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Swallowing Darkness :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 28 из 242Scars make some people think you must have done something to earn them.
"What does that mean?" the older cop asked. He wasn't going to let it go. He stood with his partner, surrounded by what he would think were nightmares. They'd taken their guns. And you would have to be a fool to not see the physical potential in Doyle and the rest of the men in the room, let alone the extra bits that Sholto was showing. The policeman was no fool, but he also saw Gran as a little old lady, and he wasn't leaving until he knew that she was all right. I was beginning to see how he'd survived in the job for more than a decade, and maybe why he'd never gotten out of uniform. If I were him, I'd have left the room and called for backup. But then, I was a woman, which makes you more cautious around violence.
"Grandmother," I said, and it may have been one of the few times I'd used her full title. She was just Gran. But tonight I wanted the police to know that we were family.
She looked at me, and there was pain in her eyes. "Oh, Merry, child, do nae call me by a title."
"The fact that you don't approve of my choice in men doesn't give you the right to use your magic to trash my hospital room, Gran."
"It was the spell. You know that."
"Do I?" I let my voice hold coldness, because I wasn't sure. "The spell was designed to simply magnify what you truly feel, Gran. You truly do hate Sholto, and Doyle, and they are the fathers of my children. That will not change."
"Are you saying the ol'... woman made the stuff float and hit everyone?" the older cop asked. He sounded doubtful.
Gran pulled at Sholto's grip. "I am meself again, Lord of Shadows. Ya can let me go."
"Swear. Swear by the Darkness that Eats all Things that you will not try and hurt me, or anyone in this room."
"I'll swear ta no hurt anyone in this room, at this moment, but I will nae promise beyond that, because ya are the murderer of my mother."
"Murderer," the older cop said.
"He killed her mother, my great-grandmother, about five hundred years ago, or am I off by a century or two?" I asked.
"You're off by about two hundred years," Rhys said. He was in front of the policemen, smiling, pleasant, but he didn't have a magic that could go with the smile. Someone else in the room did though. "Why don't you talk to the nice policemen, Galen?" Rhys said.
Galen looked puzzled, but he moved the small distance to the policemen. If it bothered him to be standing directly under a crowd of nightflyers it didn't show. Which meant it didn't bother him, because Galen was almost incapable of lying that well.
"What does that mean?" the older cop asked. He wasn't going to let it go. He stood with his partner, surrounded by what he would think were nightmares. They'd taken their guns. And you would have to be a fool to not see the physical potential in Doyle and the rest of the men in the room, let alone the extra bits that Sholto was showing. The policeman was no fool, but he also saw Gran as a little old lady, and he wasn't leaving until he knew that she was all right. I was beginning to see how he'd survived in the job for more than a decade, and maybe why he'd never gotten out of uniform. If I were him, I'd have left the room and called for backup. But then, I was a woman, which makes you more cautious around violence.
"Grandmother," I said, and it may have been one of the few times I'd used her full title. She was just Gran. But tonight I wanted the police to know that we were family.
She looked at me, and there was pain in her eyes. "Oh, Merry, child, do nae call me by a title."
"The fact that you don't approve of my choice in men doesn't give you the right to use your magic to trash my hospital room, Gran."
"It was the spell. You know that."
"Do I?" I let my voice hold coldness, because I wasn't sure. "The spell was designed to simply magnify what you truly feel, Gran. You truly do hate Sholto, and Doyle, and they are the fathers of my children. That will not change."
"Are you saying the ol'... woman made the stuff float and hit everyone?" the older cop asked. He sounded doubtful.
Gran pulled at Sholto's grip. "I am meself again, Lord of Shadows. Ya can let me go."
"Swear. Swear by the Darkness that Eats all Things that you will not try and hurt me, or anyone in this room."
"I'll swear ta no hurt anyone in this room, at this moment, but I will nae promise beyond that, because ya are the murderer of my mother."
"Murderer," the older cop said.
"He killed her mother, my great-grandmother, about five hundred years ago, or am I off by a century or two?" I asked.
"You're off by about two hundred years," Rhys said. He was in front of the policemen, smiling, pleasant, but he didn't have a magic that could go with the smile. Someone else in the room did though. "Why don't you talk to the nice policemen, Galen?" Rhys said.
Galen looked puzzled, but he moved the small distance to the policemen. If it bothered him to be standing directly under a crowd of nightflyers it didn't show. Which meant it didn't bother him, because Galen was almost incapable of lying that well.