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The Lunatic Cafe :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 69 из 234Kaspar and I stood in the hallway, alone. There were no sounds from behind the door. The silence was so heavy, it thrummed in my head.
"I can't hear them?"
"Soundproof room," he said.
Logical. I stared down at the file folder. There was a bloody handprint on it. I held it gingerly at the edge, waiting for the blood to dry.
"Are we supposed to sit down and have a business meeting?"
"Knowing Marcus, the information will be complete. He's a very good bureaucrat."
"But not a very good pack leader."
He glanced at the door. "I'd say that somewhere else if I were you."
He had a point. I stared up at him. His baby-fine hair was nearly white, almost feathery. I shook my head. It couldn't be.
He grinned at me. "Go ahead. Touch it."
I did. I brushed fingers through his hair, and it was soft and downy like the under feathers on a bird. Heat rose from his scalp like fever. "Jesus."
Something heavy smacked into the door. I felt the vibrations through the floor. I backed away, hesitating about putting the Browning away. I compromised and put my hand in the pocket of my trench coat. It was the only coat I owned with pockets deep enough to swallow the Browning.
Kaspar opened the door to the dining rooms. There were still people eating. Humans out for a night on the town. Carving their steaks, eating their veggies, oblivious to the potential destruction just two doors away.
I had a horrible urge to yell, Flee, flee for your lives. But they wouldn't have understood. Besides the Lunatic Cafe had been here for years. I'd never heard of an incident here. Of course, I'd killed one man, werewolf, whatever. I didn't think there was going to be enough evidence to turn over to the cops. Maybe a few well-gnawed bones.
Who knew what disasters had been covered up here?
Kaspar handed me a business card. It was white and shiny with Gothic script that said,
KASPAR GUNDERSON,
ANTIQUES AND COLLECTIBLES.
"If you have any questions, I will try to answer them."
"Even if the questions are about what the hell you are?"
"Even that," he said.
We were walking as we talked. He offered me his hand beside the bar in the outer dining room. The outside door was in sight, fun almost over for the night. Thank God.
My smile froze on my face. I knew one of the men at the bar. Edward was sitting there sipping a tall, cold drink. He never glanced at me, but I knew he saw me. Kaspar cocked his head to one side. "Is anything wrong?"
"No," I said, "no.
"I can't hear them?"
"Soundproof room," he said.
Logical. I stared down at the file folder. There was a bloody handprint on it. I held it gingerly at the edge, waiting for the blood to dry.
"Are we supposed to sit down and have a business meeting?"
"Knowing Marcus, the information will be complete. He's a very good bureaucrat."
"But not a very good pack leader."
He glanced at the door. "I'd say that somewhere else if I were you."
He had a point. I stared up at him. His baby-fine hair was nearly white, almost feathery. I shook my head. It couldn't be.
He grinned at me. "Go ahead. Touch it."
I did. I brushed fingers through his hair, and it was soft and downy like the under feathers on a bird. Heat rose from his scalp like fever. "Jesus."
Something heavy smacked into the door. I felt the vibrations through the floor. I backed away, hesitating about putting the Browning away. I compromised and put my hand in the pocket of my trench coat. It was the only coat I owned with pockets deep enough to swallow the Browning.
Kaspar opened the door to the dining rooms. There were still people eating. Humans out for a night on the town. Carving their steaks, eating their veggies, oblivious to the potential destruction just two doors away.
I had a horrible urge to yell, Flee, flee for your lives. But they wouldn't have understood. Besides the Lunatic Cafe had been here for years. I'd never heard of an incident here. Of course, I'd killed one man, werewolf, whatever. I didn't think there was going to be enough evidence to turn over to the cops. Maybe a few well-gnawed bones.
Who knew what disasters had been covered up here?
Kaspar handed me a business card. It was white and shiny with Gothic script that said,
KASPAR GUNDERSON,
ANTIQUES AND COLLECTIBLES.
"If you have any questions, I will try to answer them."
"Even if the questions are about what the hell you are?"
"Even that," he said.
We were walking as we talked. He offered me his hand beside the bar in the outer dining room. The outside door was in sight, fun almost over for the night. Thank God.
My smile froze on my face. I knew one of the men at the bar. Edward was sitting there sipping a tall, cold drink. He never glanced at me, but I knew he saw me. Kaspar cocked his head to one side. "Is anything wrong?"
"No," I said, "no.