JК
Burnt Offerings :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 91 из 286He was wearing a pair of dress pants that matched the vest. Without a conservative shirt under the vest it looked strangely erotic. I could still feel Damian in my head. His power, the beat and the pulse of centuries flowed through him. He wasn't dead, or at least not completely dead. I could still feel his aura, something.
"I can still feel Damian," I said.
"What do you mean, ma petite ?"
I had a horrible compulsion to touch Damian. To run my hands over his bare arms. I wasn't into necrophilia, no matter how close I walked the edge. What was going on?
"I can feel him. His energy in my head. It's like coming on a fresh corpse before the soul has left the body. He's still intact, I think."
Warrick was looking at me. "How can you know that?"
I reached out towards Damian and stopped myself, hands curling into fists. My hands ached to touch him, not sexual exactly but like seeing a really fine sculpture. I wanted to trace the lines of his body, to feel the flow and ebb of him. To. .
"What is wrong, ma petite ?"
I touched my fingertips to Damian's arm, as if afraid he would burn. My hand slid over his cool flesh, almost without me wanting it to. The force that animated Damian's body flowed through his cooling skin, flowed over my hand, down my arm, marched in goose bumps across my body.
I gasped.
"What are you doing, ma petite ?" Jean-Claude was rubbing his arms as if he, too, felt it.
Warrick put out a hand towards me like he was holding his hand in front of fire, not sure if he could or should touch. He pulled back, rubbing his hand on his pants. "It is true. You are a necromancer."
"You ain't seen nothing yet," I whispered. I turned to Jean-Claude. "When you pull out the sword, the trick is going to be to keep the power from leaving with the opening of the wound. To keep, for lack of a better word, his soul from fleeing, right?"
Jean-Claude was watching me, as if he'd never really seen me before. Nice to know I could still surprise him. "I do not know, ma petite . I am not a witch or a student of magical metaphysics. I will invoke the oath, speak the ritual, and hope he survives."
"Sometimes when I call a zombie from the grave, it's easier to call them a second time." I slid my hands down to hold Damian's limp hand, but it wasn't enough. My power and the power inside the vampire needed a more immediate touch than mere hands.
"He is not a zombie, ma petite ."
"Warrick said you hadn't called Damian from the grave, but I have.
"I can still feel Damian," I said.
"What do you mean, ma petite ?"
I had a horrible compulsion to touch Damian. To run my hands over his bare arms. I wasn't into necrophilia, no matter how close I walked the edge. What was going on?
"I can feel him. His energy in my head. It's like coming on a fresh corpse before the soul has left the body. He's still intact, I think."
Warrick was looking at me. "How can you know that?"
I reached out towards Damian and stopped myself, hands curling into fists. My hands ached to touch him, not sexual exactly but like seeing a really fine sculpture. I wanted to trace the lines of his body, to feel the flow and ebb of him. To. .
"What is wrong, ma petite ?"
I touched my fingertips to Damian's arm, as if afraid he would burn. My hand slid over his cool flesh, almost without me wanting it to. The force that animated Damian's body flowed through his cooling skin, flowed over my hand, down my arm, marched in goose bumps across my body.
I gasped.
"What are you doing, ma petite ?" Jean-Claude was rubbing his arms as if he, too, felt it.
Warrick put out a hand towards me like he was holding his hand in front of fire, not sure if he could or should touch. He pulled back, rubbing his hand on his pants. "It is true. You are a necromancer."
"You ain't seen nothing yet," I whispered. I turned to Jean-Claude. "When you pull out the sword, the trick is going to be to keep the power from leaving with the opening of the wound. To keep, for lack of a better word, his soul from fleeing, right?"
Jean-Claude was watching me, as if he'd never really seen me before. Nice to know I could still surprise him. "I do not know, ma petite . I am not a witch or a student of magical metaphysics. I will invoke the oath, speak the ritual, and hope he survives."
"Sometimes when I call a zombie from the grave, it's easier to call them a second time." I slid my hands down to hold Damian's limp hand, but it wasn't enough. My power and the power inside the vampire needed a more immediate touch than mere hands.
"He is not a zombie, ma petite ."
"Warrick said you hadn't called Damian from the grave, but I have.