JК
The Laughing Corpse :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 144 из 213But remember, ma … Anita, if you hurt me, it hurts you. I could survive the strain of your death. The question, amante de moi, is could you survive mine?"
Amante de moi? What the hell did that mean? I decided not to ask. "Damn you, Jean-Claude, damn you."
"That, dear Anita, was done long before you met me."
"What does that mean?"
His eyes were as innocent as they ever were. "Why, Anita, your own Catholic Church has declared all vampires as suicides. We are automatically damned."
I shook my head. "I'm Episcopalian, now, but that isn't what you meant."
He laughed then. The sound was like silk brushed across the nape of the neck. It felt smooth and good, but it made you shudder.
I walked away from him. I just left him there in front of the obscene window display. I walked into the crowd of whores, hustlers, customers. There was nobody on this street as dangerous as Jean-Claude. I had brought him down here to protect me. That was laughable. Ridiculous. Obscene.
A young man who couldn't have been more than fifteen stopped me. He was wearing a vest with no shirt and a pair of torn jeans. "You interested?"
He was taller than me by a little. His eyes were blue. Two other boys just behind him were staring at us.
"We don't get many women down here," he said.
"I believe you." He looked incredibly young. "Where can I find Wheelchair Wanda?"
One of the boys behind him said, "A crip lover, Jesus."
I agreed with him. "Where?" I held up a twenty. It was too much to pay for the information, but maybe if I gave it to him, he could go home sooner. Maybe if he had twenty dollars, he could turn down one of the cars cruising the street. Twenty dollars, it would change his life. Like sticking your finger in a nuclear meltdown.
"She's just outside of The Grey Cat. At the end of the block."
"Thanks." I gave him the twenty. His fingernails had grime embedded in them.
"You sure you don't want some action?" His voice was small and uncertain, like his eyes. Out of the comer of my eye I saw Jean-Claude moving through the crowd. He was coming for me. To protect me. I turned back to the boy. "I've got more action than I know what to do with," I said.
He frowned, looking puzzled. That was all right. I was puzzled, too. What do you do with a master vampire that won't leave you alone? Good question. Unfortunately, what I needed was a good answer.
24
Wheelchair Wanda was a small woman sitting in one of those sport wheelchairs that are used for railing.
Amante de moi? What the hell did that mean? I decided not to ask. "Damn you, Jean-Claude, damn you."
"That, dear Anita, was done long before you met me."
"What does that mean?"
His eyes were as innocent as they ever were. "Why, Anita, your own Catholic Church has declared all vampires as suicides. We are automatically damned."
I shook my head. "I'm Episcopalian, now, but that isn't what you meant."
He laughed then. The sound was like silk brushed across the nape of the neck. It felt smooth and good, but it made you shudder.
I walked away from him. I just left him there in front of the obscene window display. I walked into the crowd of whores, hustlers, customers. There was nobody on this street as dangerous as Jean-Claude. I had brought him down here to protect me. That was laughable. Ridiculous. Obscene.
A young man who couldn't have been more than fifteen stopped me. He was wearing a vest with no shirt and a pair of torn jeans. "You interested?"
He was taller than me by a little. His eyes were blue. Two other boys just behind him were staring at us.
"We don't get many women down here," he said.
"I believe you." He looked incredibly young. "Where can I find Wheelchair Wanda?"
One of the boys behind him said, "A crip lover, Jesus."
I agreed with him. "Where?" I held up a twenty. It was too much to pay for the information, but maybe if I gave it to him, he could go home sooner. Maybe if he had twenty dollars, he could turn down one of the cars cruising the street. Twenty dollars, it would change his life. Like sticking your finger in a nuclear meltdown.
"She's just outside of The Grey Cat. At the end of the block."
"Thanks." I gave him the twenty. His fingernails had grime embedded in them.
"You sure you don't want some action?" His voice was small and uncertain, like his eyes. Out of the comer of my eye I saw Jean-Claude moving through the crowd. He was coming for me. To protect me. I turned back to the boy. "I've got more action than I know what to do with," I said.
He frowned, looking puzzled. That was all right. I was puzzled, too. What do you do with a master vampire that won't leave you alone? Good question. Unfortunately, what I needed was a good answer.
24
Wheelchair Wanda was a small woman sitting in one of those sport wheelchairs that are used for railing.