JК
Guilty Pleasures :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 50 из 205A slender figure, a little thick around the middle, too many beers, too little exercise. He was maybe thirty.
“Come,” Zachary said.
The man moved out into the room. His eyes were round with fear. A pinkie ring winked in the firelight. He stank of fear and death.
He was still tanned, eyes still full. He could pass for human better than any vampire in the room, but he was more a corpse than any of them. It was just a matter of time. I raised the dead for a living. I knew a zombie when I saw one.
“Do you remember Nikolaos?” Zachary asked.
The zombie's human eyes grew large, and the color drained from his face. Damn, he looked human. “Yes.”
“You will answer Nikolaos's questions, do you understand that?”
“I understand.” His forehead wrinkled as if he were concentrating on something, something he couldn't quite remember.
“He would not answer our questions before. Would you?” Nikolaos said.
The zombie shook its head, eyes staring at her with a sort of fearful fascination. Birds must look at snakes that way.
“We tortured him, but he was most stubborn. Then before we could continue our work, he hung himself. We really should have taken his belt away.” She sounded wistful, pouty. The zombie was staring at her. “I … hung myself. I don't understand. I …”
“He doesn't know?” I asked.
Zachary smiled. “No, he doesn't. Isn't it fabulous? You know how hard it is to make one so human, that he forgets he has died.”
I knew. It meant somebody had a lot of power. Zachary was staring at the confused undead like he was a work of art. Precious.
“You raised him?” I asked.
Nikolaos said, “Did you not recognize a fellow animator?” She laughed, lightly, a breeze of far-off bells.
I glanced at Zachary's face. He was staring at me, eyes memorizing me. Face blank, with a thread of something making the skin under one eye jump. Anger, fear? Then he smiled at me, brilliant, echoing. Again there was that shock of recognition.
“Ask your question, Nikolaos. He has to answer now.”
“Is that true?” she asked me.
I hesitated, surprised that she had turned to me. “Yes.”
“Who killed the vampire, Lucas?”
He stared at her, face crumbling. His breathing was shallow and too fast.
“Why doesn't he answer me?”
“The question is too complex,” Zachary explained. “He may not remember who Lucas is.”
“Then you ask him the questions, and I expect him to answer.” Her voice was warm with threat.
“Come,” Zachary said.
The man moved out into the room. His eyes were round with fear. A pinkie ring winked in the firelight. He stank of fear and death.
He was still tanned, eyes still full. He could pass for human better than any vampire in the room, but he was more a corpse than any of them. It was just a matter of time. I raised the dead for a living. I knew a zombie when I saw one.
“Do you remember Nikolaos?” Zachary asked.
The zombie's human eyes grew large, and the color drained from his face. Damn, he looked human. “Yes.”
“You will answer Nikolaos's questions, do you understand that?”
“I understand.” His forehead wrinkled as if he were concentrating on something, something he couldn't quite remember.
“He would not answer our questions before. Would you?” Nikolaos said.
The zombie shook its head, eyes staring at her with a sort of fearful fascination. Birds must look at snakes that way.
“We tortured him, but he was most stubborn. Then before we could continue our work, he hung himself. We really should have taken his belt away.” She sounded wistful, pouty. The zombie was staring at her. “I … hung myself. I don't understand. I …”
“He doesn't know?” I asked.
Zachary smiled. “No, he doesn't. Isn't it fabulous? You know how hard it is to make one so human, that he forgets he has died.”
I knew. It meant somebody had a lot of power. Zachary was staring at the confused undead like he was a work of art. Precious.
“You raised him?” I asked.
Nikolaos said, “Did you not recognize a fellow animator?” She laughed, lightly, a breeze of far-off bells.
I glanced at Zachary's face. He was staring at me, eyes memorizing me. Face blank, with a thread of something making the skin under one eye jump. Anger, fear? Then he smiled at me, brilliant, echoing. Again there was that shock of recognition.
“Ask your question, Nikolaos. He has to answer now.”
“Is that true?” she asked me.
I hesitated, surprised that she had turned to me. “Yes.”
“Who killed the vampire, Lucas?”
He stared at her, face crumbling. His breathing was shallow and too fast.
“Why doesn't he answer me?”
“The question is too complex,” Zachary explained. “He may not remember who Lucas is.”
“Then you ask him the questions, and I expect him to answer.” Her voice was warm with threat.