JК
The Killing Dance :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 283 из 285The memories came fast, then faster, flowinglike some sort of carnival ride. Blackness gained on the images, like ink filling water. When the darkness ate everything, I floated for an impossible second, then went out like a candle flame. Nothing.
I didn't even have time to be scared.
45
I woke in a pastel pink hospital room. A nurse in a matching pink smock smiled down at me. Fear pumped like fine champagne. Where was Richard? Where was Jean-Claude? What I finally managed to ask, was, "How did I get here?"
"Your friend brought you." She motioned with her head.
Edward sat in a chair by the far wall, leafing through a magazine. He looked up and our eyes met. His face gave away nothing.
"Edward?"
"My friends call me Ted, Anita, you know that." He had that good of boy smile that could only mean he was pretending to be Ted Forrester. It was his only legal identity that I'd ever met. Even the cops thought he was this Ted person. "Nurse, can we have a few minutes alone?"
The nurse smiled, looked curiously from one to the other of us, and left, still smiling.
I tried to grab Edward's hand and found my left hand was taped to a board and stuck with an IV. I grabbed at him with my right hand, and he held it. "Are they alive?"
He smiled, a mere twitch of lips. "Yes."
A relief like I'd never known flowed through my body. I collapsed back against the bed, weak. "What happened?"
"You came in suffering from lycanthrope scratches and a very nasty vampire bite. He almost drained you dry, Anita."
"Maybe that's what it took to save us."
"Maybe," Edward said. He sat on the edge of the bed. His jacket gaped enough to flash his shoulder holster and gun. He caught me looking. "The police agree that the monsters might hold a grudge. There's even a cop outside your door."
We weren't holding hands now. He stared down at me and something very cold passed over his face. "Did you have to kill Harley?"
I started to say yes, but I stopped myself. I replayed it in my mind. Finally. I looked up at him. "I don't know, Edward. When you were knocked out, he couldn't see you anymore. I tried to talk to him, but he couldn't hear me. He started to raise the machine gun." I met Edward's empty blue eyes. "I shot him. You saw the body. I even put one through his head. A coupe de grace."
"I know." His face, his voice gave nothing away. It was like watching a mannequin talk, except that this mannequin was armed and I wasn't.
"It never occurred to me not to shoot, Edward. I didn't even hesitate.
I didn't even have time to be scared.
45
I woke in a pastel pink hospital room. A nurse in a matching pink smock smiled down at me. Fear pumped like fine champagne. Where was Richard? Where was Jean-Claude? What I finally managed to ask, was, "How did I get here?"
"Your friend brought you." She motioned with her head.
Edward sat in a chair by the far wall, leafing through a magazine. He looked up and our eyes met. His face gave away nothing.
"Edward?"
"My friends call me Ted, Anita, you know that." He had that good of boy smile that could only mean he was pretending to be Ted Forrester. It was his only legal identity that I'd ever met. Even the cops thought he was this Ted person. "Nurse, can we have a few minutes alone?"
The nurse smiled, looked curiously from one to the other of us, and left, still smiling.
I tried to grab Edward's hand and found my left hand was taped to a board and stuck with an IV. I grabbed at him with my right hand, and he held it. "Are they alive?"
He smiled, a mere twitch of lips. "Yes."
A relief like I'd never known flowed through my body. I collapsed back against the bed, weak. "What happened?"
"You came in suffering from lycanthrope scratches and a very nasty vampire bite. He almost drained you dry, Anita."
"Maybe that's what it took to save us."
"Maybe," Edward said. He sat on the edge of the bed. His jacket gaped enough to flash his shoulder holster and gun. He caught me looking. "The police agree that the monsters might hold a grudge. There's even a cop outside your door."
We weren't holding hands now. He stared down at me and something very cold passed over his face. "Did you have to kill Harley?"
I started to say yes, but I stopped myself. I replayed it in my mind. Finally. I looked up at him. "I don't know, Edward. When you were knocked out, he couldn't see you anymore. I tried to talk to him, but he couldn't hear me. He started to raise the machine gun." I met Edward's empty blue eyes. "I shot him. You saw the body. I even put one through his head. A coupe de grace."
"I know." His face, his voice gave nothing away. It was like watching a mannequin talk, except that this mannequin was armed and I wasn't.
"It never occurred to me not to shoot, Edward. I didn't even hesitate.