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

glint of his eyes and a detached loneliness in the
tones of his voice that hinted at knowledge beyond
the scope of human years. There was hunger there
as well, and not all of that hunger was directed at
her blood, though that was a large part of it.
As she drifted away she sensed that he, too,
fought his way through bondage. He sought answers,
but the essence of his being forced other
issues to the forefront of his mind and robbed him
of time and concentration. He fed because he had
to, but there was more that he’d wanted from
Mother Agnes of the Convent of Our Lady of Bitter
Tears. He would get nothing.
Other voices called out to her now, musical and
inviting, and the light had grown so bright that all
else disappeared from her thoughts. She slipped
within that glow, and her essence co-mingled with
13
DAVID NIALL WILSON
the energy of the light. It was a true communion,
a joining, and the voices became her own, or she
became the voices. The chambers and the stone
walls of the convent dropped away until nothing
remained.
The dark figure felt the life slip from his aging
victim’s body, and he cursed. It was not directed at
God, or at himself, but at eternity in general.
Montrovant felt the rivulet of blood making its way
down his flesh and cursed himself for not cramming
the cut between the old one’s lips before she could
escape him. She was gone, and the blood that splattered
and dribbled over her wrinkled, silent face
was nothing but strength and sustenance wasted.
The wound healed quickly, and with a contemptuous
toss he flung the husk that had been Mother
Agnes across the room. Her bones shattered on
impact with the stone of the wall, and her blooddrained
flesh made a wet, smacking noise as it
spread out on impact and fell to the floor, limp and
empty. He hadn’t meant to throw her so violently,
but she’d been his best hope and now he would
have to move on and try again.
Montrovant strode to the window, wiping his
sleeve across his lips to clear away the last of the
Mother Superior’s blood. He’d shared enough of
her thoughts before she escaped him to know that
his time in the convent was at an end. That meant
that he, or le Duc, would have to find an answer—
any answer—this very night.
TO SPEAK WITH LIFELESS TONGUES