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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 23 из 293The demi-fey do not levitate, they fly, and in the larger size, their wings can’t lift them.
Blood had formed a wide, dark pool around her body. Someone had come up behind her and slit her throat. To get that close to her, it had to have been someone she trusted, or someone with enough magic to sneak up on her. Of course, they had also needed enough magic to negate her immortality. There weren’t that many things in faerie that could do both.
“What happened, Beatrice?” I said softly. “Who did this to you?”
Galen came up beside me. “Merry.”
I looked up at him.
“Are you all right?”
I shook my head, and looked down the hallway to our second body. Out loud I said, “I’ll be fine.”
“Liar,” he said softly, and he tried to bend over me, tried to hold me. I didn’t push him away, but I moved back. Now wasn’t the time to cling to someone. According to our culture, I should have been touching someone. But the handful of guards that had come to L.A. with me had only worked at the Grey Detective Agency for a few months. I’d been there a few years. You didn’t huddle at crime scenes. You didn’t comfort yourself. You did your job.
Galen’s face fell a little, as if I’d hurt his feelings. I didn’t want to hurt him, but we had a crisis here. Surely he could see that. So why, as so often happened, was I having to waste energy worrying about Galen’s feelings when I should have been doing nothing but concentrating on the job? There were moments, no matter how dear he was to me, that I understood all too well why my father had not chosen Galen for my fiancé.
I walked toward the second body. The man lay just short of the hallway’s intersection with another, larger hallway. He was on his stomach, arms outspread. There was a large stain of blood on his back, and more of it curling down along the side of his body.
Rhys was squatting by the corpse. He looked up as I approached. The demi-fey peeked out at me through Rhys’s thick white hair, then hid her tiny face, as if she were afraid. The demi-fey usually went around in large groups like flocks of birds or butterflies. Some of them were shy when on their own.
“Do we know what killed him yet?” I asked.
Rhys pointed to the narrow hole in the man’s back. “Knife, I think.”
I nodded. “But they took the blade with them. Why?”
“Because there was something special about the knife that might give them away.”
“Or they simply did not want to lose a good blade,” Frost said.
Blood had formed a wide, dark pool around her body. Someone had come up behind her and slit her throat. To get that close to her, it had to have been someone she trusted, or someone with enough magic to sneak up on her. Of course, they had also needed enough magic to negate her immortality. There weren’t that many things in faerie that could do both.
“What happened, Beatrice?” I said softly. “Who did this to you?”
Galen came up beside me. “Merry.”
I looked up at him.
“Are you all right?”
I shook my head, and looked down the hallway to our second body. Out loud I said, “I’ll be fine.”
“Liar,” he said softly, and he tried to bend over me, tried to hold me. I didn’t push him away, but I moved back. Now wasn’t the time to cling to someone. According to our culture, I should have been touching someone. But the handful of guards that had come to L.A. with me had only worked at the Grey Detective Agency for a few months. I’d been there a few years. You didn’t huddle at crime scenes. You didn’t comfort yourself. You did your job.
Galen’s face fell a little, as if I’d hurt his feelings. I didn’t want to hurt him, but we had a crisis here. Surely he could see that. So why, as so often happened, was I having to waste energy worrying about Galen’s feelings when I should have been doing nothing but concentrating on the job? There were moments, no matter how dear he was to me, that I understood all too well why my father had not chosen Galen for my fiancé.
I walked toward the second body. The man lay just short of the hallway’s intersection with another, larger hallway. He was on his stomach, arms outspread. There was a large stain of blood on his back, and more of it curling down along the side of his body.
Rhys was squatting by the corpse. He looked up as I approached. The demi-fey peeked out at me through Rhys’s thick white hair, then hid her tiny face, as if she were afraid. The demi-fey usually went around in large groups like flocks of birds or butterflies. Some of them were shy when on their own.
“Do we know what killed him yet?” I asked.
Rhys pointed to the narrow hole in the man’s back. “Knife, I think.”
I nodded. “But they took the blade with them. Why?”
“Because there was something special about the knife that might give them away.”
“Or they simply did not want to lose a good blade,” Frost said.