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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
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“She starts the fight, then feeds on it,” Biddy said, as Nicca helped her to her feet.
“She did once,” Frost said, “but that is no more.”
“You think not,” Dogmaela said. “Cathbodua still enjoys a good quarrel, make no mistake about it, Killing Frost. She grows bored with so much peace.”
“This is not peace,” Frost said.
“Perhaps,” she said, “but it is not battle either.”
“Let’s hope not,” Rhys said. “And now, children, let’s go talk to the nice policemen before they freeze their badges off.”
“Badges?” Dogmaela said. “Is that some new slang for balls?”
Rhys grinned at her. “And when we walk over there they will all get their badges out and flash them at the princess.”
Frost and I both said “Rhys” at the same time.
Dogmaela said, “What an odd custom.”
She was a literalist with almost no sense of humor. Rhys was going to hurt himself with this one. I explained the truth to her as we all walked over to the parking lot. She gave him a dirty look. He smiled at her like a lascivious angel.
“Behave yourself,” I told him under my breath.
“I have behaved myself,” he said softly. “When you’ve talked to the head fed, you’ll think I was a saint.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s not bleeding.”
I looked at him and tried to decide if he was teasing me, too. His face said no. How bad could one FBI agent be? As the old saying goes, we were about to find out.
CHAPTER 14
THE POLICE, ALL FLAVORS, STOOD IN THE DECEMBER COLD. Maybe some of them had been in their vehicles trying to stay warm and only got out when they saw us coming, but somehow they had the feel of people who’d been standing around in the cold for a while. If it wasn’t for us, then why weren’t they in their cars, in vans with the heaters on? Because their chiefs were standing out in the cold. You didn’t sit in a nice warm car while your officers stood ankle deep in snow. We’d had the parking area cleared off, but apparently snow had blown back across the surface.
I recognized Major Walters by the broad-shouldered square of him and his height. The man he was standing almost toe to toe with was shorter by at least five inches, and no one I knew. But I’d have bet good money he was FBI. And the way he was yelling at Walters, probably the head fed.
When I’d told Special Agent Raymond Gillett not to come, I hadn’t specified that he not send the feds.
“She starts the fight, then feeds on it,” Biddy said, as Nicca helped her to her feet.
“She did once,” Frost said, “but that is no more.”
“You think not,” Dogmaela said. “Cathbodua still enjoys a good quarrel, make no mistake about it, Killing Frost. She grows bored with so much peace.”
“This is not peace,” Frost said.
“Perhaps,” she said, “but it is not battle either.”
“Let’s hope not,” Rhys said. “And now, children, let’s go talk to the nice policemen before they freeze their badges off.”
“Badges?” Dogmaela said. “Is that some new slang for balls?”
Rhys grinned at her. “And when we walk over there they will all get their badges out and flash them at the princess.”
Frost and I both said “Rhys” at the same time.
Dogmaela said, “What an odd custom.”
She was a literalist with almost no sense of humor. Rhys was going to hurt himself with this one. I explained the truth to her as we all walked over to the parking lot. She gave him a dirty look. He smiled at her like a lascivious angel.
“Behave yourself,” I told him under my breath.
“I have behaved myself,” he said softly. “When you’ve talked to the head fed, you’ll think I was a saint.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s not bleeding.”
I looked at him and tried to decide if he was teasing me, too. His face said no. How bad could one FBI agent be? As the old saying goes, we were about to find out.
CHAPTER 14
THE POLICE, ALL FLAVORS, STOOD IN THE DECEMBER COLD. Maybe some of them had been in their vehicles trying to stay warm and only got out when they saw us coming, but somehow they had the feel of people who’d been standing around in the cold for a while. If it wasn’t for us, then why weren’t they in their cars, in vans with the heaters on? Because their chiefs were standing out in the cold. You didn’t sit in a nice warm car while your officers stood ankle deep in snow. We’d had the parking area cleared off, but apparently snow had blown back across the surface.
I recognized Major Walters by the broad-shouldered square of him and his height. The man he was standing almost toe to toe with was shorter by at least five inches, and no one I knew. But I’d have bet good money he was FBI. And the way he was yelling at Walters, probably the head fed.
When I’d told Special Agent Raymond Gillett not to come, I hadn’t specified that he not send the feds.