"S. P. Somtow - Vanilla Blood" - читать интересную книгу автора (Somtow S. P)

—Uh…

—You may proceed, Jeremy.

—Well, sir, I really joined it for the sex. I mean, there was a rumor that the Brotherhood had these orgies
in the old Hanson house.

—That's an abandoned house?

—Yes, sir, by the cemetery. I don't know why it ain't been tore down yet; it's kinda an eyesore. It's
condemned, though. I always used to walk past it on my way to school. It's a big old place, creaky
doors, peeling paint, scary statues of devils with leathery wings… and the big angel with the bronze
sword… not shiny anymore, green mostly… not since the ringleaders of the Brotherhood was all put in
jail. But that used to be the weirdest thing about that place. It was all crumbling and dirty except for that
sword. That tall angel stood next to them wrought-iron gates and it held its sword high in the air and the
sword was all polished… and you know, walking to school in winter, with the sun just rising, you could
of swore that thing was on fire. The way it caught the sunlight. So the kids called it the Flaming Sword,
like the preacher says about the Angel of Death. Anyways… there was this rumor that someone had wild
parties there… you might call them raves, I guess… lotta E, lotta dope, lotta loose wenches, if you know
what I mean. So when Cat Sperling kept looking at me from the other end of the hall, she was a senior
and all, with tits like balloons, you could say I was interested. Everyone knew that Cat had something to
do with them parties. And everyone wanted that bitch, shit, even the girls wanted her. But there's
something weird about her that you need to know. It wasn't no big Hollywood special-effect kinda thing
but… she carried the night around with her…

—Could you explain that a little more clearly, Jeremy? Take your time.

—Well, sir, it didn't matter if the sun was out, or if all the lights was on inside that school room. She
always had like a shadow on her. Her skin was real pale, and it glimmered… well, like the moon was
shining… but just on her, you understand, just on her. There was a silvery thing about her eyes, too…
you know like when you're in the woods all alone at night and you catch the moonlight dancing amongst
the leaves… you catch my drift, sir?

—You're saying she was attractive. She had a unique look. Some kind of makeup, perhaps.

—Yeah well, it was like on no infomercial about pearly essence face cream… a lotta girls use that shit…
she was different. It was like she was the real thing, and the others were all just imitating her. Did I tell
you about the black hair? It was long, all the way to her waist. And she wore black lipstick. It matched.

—A Goth, then.

—More than that. Like I said. Not a wanna-be. The real thing.

—Objection, Your Honor, I fail to see how this catalog of feminine charms has any relevance
whatsoever to the defense's case!

—Stop posturing, Counselor. I've sent away the cameras; and the jury looks awake for the first time
since this sorry spectacle began. I'm going to allow it. You may proceed, Mr. Kindred.

—Just tell the story in your own words, Jeremy.