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Guilty Pleasures :: Гамильтон Лорел
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“But what is a ghoul, animator? Is it truly dead?”
“Yes.”
“Am I dead?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?” She had a small scar near her upper lip. She must have gotten it before she died.
“I'm sure,” I said.
She laughed then, a sound to bring a smile to your face and a song to your heart. My stomach jerked at the noise. I might never enjoy Shirley Temple movies again.
“I don't think you are sure in the least.” She stood, one smooth motion. A thousand years of practice makes perfect.
“I want the zombie put back, now, tonight,” I said.
“You are not in a position to want anything.” The voice was cold, very adult. Children didn't know how to strip skin with their voice.
“I raised it. I don't want it tortured.”
“Isn't that too bad?”
What else could I say? “Please.”
She stared down at me. “Why is it so important to you?”
I didn't think I could explain it to her. “It just is.”
“How important?” she asked.
“I don't know what you mean.”
“What would you be willing to endure for your zombie?”
Fear settled into a cold lump in the pit of my gut. “I don't know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do,” she said.
I stood then, not that it would help. I was actually taller than she was. She was tiny, a delicate fairy of a child. Right. “What do you want?”
“Don't do it, Anita.” Willie was standing away from us, as if afraid to come too close. He was smarter dead than he had been alive.
“Quiet, Willie.” Her voice was conversational when she said it, no yelling, no threat. But Willie fell silent instantly, like a well trained dog.
Maybe she caught my look. Whatever, she said, “I had Willie punished for failing to hire you that first time.”
“Punished?”
“Surely, Phillip has told you about our methods?”
I nodded. “A cross-wrapped coffin.”
She smiled, brilliant, cheery. The shadows leeched it into a leer. “Willie was very afraid that I would leave him in there for months, or even years.”
“Vampires can't starve to death. I understand the principle.” I added silently in my head: You bitch. I can only be terrified so long before I get angry. Anger feels better.
“You smell of fresh blood. Let me taste you, and I will see your zombie safe.”
“Does taste mean bite?” I asked.
She laughed, sweet, heartrending. Bitch. “Yes, human, it means bite.” She was suddenly beside me.
“But what is a ghoul, animator? Is it truly dead?”
“Yes.”
“Am I dead?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?” She had a small scar near her upper lip. She must have gotten it before she died.
“I'm sure,” I said.
She laughed then, a sound to bring a smile to your face and a song to your heart. My stomach jerked at the noise. I might never enjoy Shirley Temple movies again.
“I don't think you are sure in the least.” She stood, one smooth motion. A thousand years of practice makes perfect.
“I want the zombie put back, now, tonight,” I said.
“You are not in a position to want anything.” The voice was cold, very adult. Children didn't know how to strip skin with their voice.
“I raised it. I don't want it tortured.”
“Isn't that too bad?”
What else could I say? “Please.”
She stared down at me. “Why is it so important to you?”
I didn't think I could explain it to her. “It just is.”
“How important?” she asked.
“I don't know what you mean.”
“What would you be willing to endure for your zombie?”
Fear settled into a cold lump in the pit of my gut. “I don't know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do,” she said.
I stood then, not that it would help. I was actually taller than she was. She was tiny, a delicate fairy of a child. Right. “What do you want?”
“Don't do it, Anita.” Willie was standing away from us, as if afraid to come too close. He was smarter dead than he had been alive.
“Quiet, Willie.” Her voice was conversational when she said it, no yelling, no threat. But Willie fell silent instantly, like a well trained dog.
Maybe she caught my look. Whatever, she said, “I had Willie punished for failing to hire you that first time.”
“Punished?”
“Surely, Phillip has told you about our methods?”
I nodded. “A cross-wrapped coffin.”
She smiled, brilliant, cheery. The shadows leeched it into a leer. “Willie was very afraid that I would leave him in there for months, or even years.”
“Vampires can't starve to death. I understand the principle.” I added silently in my head: You bitch. I can only be terrified so long before I get angry. Anger feels better.
“You smell of fresh blood. Let me taste you, and I will see your zombie safe.”
“Does taste mean bite?” I asked.
She laughed, sweet, heartrending. Bitch. “Yes, human, it means bite.” She was suddenly beside me.