"Wilson,.David.-.Vampire.Book.2.-.To.Speak.With.Lifeless.Tongues" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilson David Niall)

concentrated on that light.
There were other pressures. He assaulted her
flesh, but he was attempting to violate her mind as
11
DAVID NIALL WILSON
well, her memories. He was seeking something, and
the sudden knowledge that denial of that information
would be the same as a victory gave her the
focus to draw herself slowly toward the flame of her
own being. He might have her blood—she knew
that it was her blood he stole—but he would not
have her soul. He would not drag her into the
nightmare that was his own existence, and he
would not find the answers he sought within her.
As her strength ebbed and the light grew to fill
her mind, she felt a sudden influx of energy. He
would not have her. Flesh was the cage that held
her to the world, but within the light that grew and
pulsed before her she felt the hands of her savior
reaching out to draw her in.
He shifted her in his arms, drawing her up and
out of her chair and tilting her back so that she
faced the ceiling. His dark eyes filled her sight,
threatening for a moment to blot out the light from
within, then fading to a blur of shadow at the
fringes of her consciousness. The world receded,
but something was important about his actions. He
held a wrist above her now, and he reached over
almost casually with his free hand to slice at that
wrist with a fingernail too long to be real, and too
real to be pure. Her mouth opened, and she stared
into the dark pits where his eyes should have been,
but she did not see him.
His intent was clear, and as he raised the weeping
wound above her, blood dripping in a steady
TO SPEAK WITH LIFELESS TONGUES
12
stream down his forearm, she drew on the awesome
strength of the light that called to her so strongly.
She released herself from the world, wrenching
herself from her flesh and soaring free.
From above and far away she saw her body convulse
in the Dark One’s arms. She saw the crimson
flow of blood from the cut of his arm as it dribbled
meaninglessly off over the lips of the shell that had
housed her, but she felt no emotion at the sight. No
disgust. No violation. No victory.
Her body was lost to her, but it was lost to him
as well. She sensed that his words had not been
metaphorical. There was an ageless quality in the