"Wilson,.David.-.Vampire.Book.1.-.Bitter.Ashes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilson David Niall)

encountered, or so his Pa had told him.
There was a shuffle of feet beyond the door, and
the sound of hushed voices. The old man had
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DAVID NIALL WILSON
known they’d come. He’d also known they would
cower in the shadows, uncertain of how to
approach, but too curious to stay away. He wished
that they had grown to more wisdom. One of them
was his own grandchild, and he’d hoped to see that
young one grow to adulthood.
Montrovant ignored the sound; at least he gave
no indication that he’d heard it. He strode toward
the door without once looking back. It was as
though he believed that his words, once spoken,
could never be denied. He didn’t turn toward the
taverna. Instead, he turned toward the cliffs
overlooking the village, where the bright, waxing
moon outlined the monastery against a backdrop of
cloudy darkness. The squat, severe lines of the
stone edifice sat like a short silk cap on the
mountain’s peak. The monastery brought its own
fears. Stories had circulated about the place for
years, dark stories, but there was no proof, and the
Church cared well for the people of the village.
None pressed the issue.
The whispered voices grew bolder. The stranger
seemed to pose no immediate threat, but
somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach the old
man knew it was a mask. He wanted to call out to
the young ones, to send them away, but he found
that his voice would not function. Not this time.
He saw a young boy creeping up along the side
of the wall, moving closer to the dark one. The lad
TO SIFT THROUGH BITTER ASHES
12
was holding his breath, measuring each step
carefully. He was nearly to the door of the stable at
the stranger’s back, and the stablemaster prayed for
one long second that he would make it. He could
see the boy’s eyes, wide as saucers. In the dead
silence of the night he believed he could hear the
youngster’s heart slamming waning courage
through his veins.
Suddenly the man was not watching the
mountains. He had spun, and the boy was held aloft
before him, screaming in terror. The dark one had
a hand gripping the lad beneath each shoulder. He
held him above his head as easily as a mother might
hold her infant. He drew the boy close, so close