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Bloody Bones :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 21 из 272Redbuds are such delicate things that if they came out in the height of summer they'd get lost in all the leaves and flowers, but here with nothing but naked trees the redbuds were eye-catching. A few dogwoods had started to bloom, adding their white to the lavender. Spring in the Ozarks, ah.
"The view is magnificent," I said.
"Yes," Stirling said, "it is, isn't it?"
My black Nikes were covered in rust-colored dirt. The raw, wounded earth filled the mountaintop. This hilltop had probably been just as pretty as the rest once. There was an arm bone sticking out of the dirt next to my feet. The lower arm, judging from the length. The bones were slender and still connected by a dry remnant of tissue.
Once I'd seen one bone, my eyes found more to look at. It was like one of those magic-eye pictures where you stare and stare and suddenly see what's there. I saw them all, studding the ground like hands reaching up through a river of rust.
There were a few splintered coffins, their broken halves spilling out into the air, but mostly it was just bones. I knelt and put my hands palm down on the ruined earth. I tried to get some sense of the dead. There was something faint and far-off like a whiff of perfume, but it was no good. In the bright spring sunlight I couldn't work my. . magic. Raising the dead isn't evil, but it does require darkness. I don't know why.
I stood up, brushing my hands against the coverall, trying to clean the red dust away. Stirling was standing at the edge of the naked dirt staring off into space. There was a distance to his gaze that said he wasn't admiring the trees.
He spoke without looking at me, "I can't bully you, can I, Ms. Blake?"
"Nope," I said.
He turned to me with a smile, but it left his eyes empty, haunted. "I invested everything I had into this project. Not just my money, but clients' money. Do you understand what I am saying, Ms. Blake?"
"If the bodies up here are Bouviers, you're screwed."
"How eloquently you put it."
"Why are we up here alone, Mr. Stirling? Why all the skullduggery?"
He took a deep breath of the gentle air and said, "I want you to say they aren't Bouvier ancestors even if they are." He looked at me when he said it. Watched my face.
I smiled and shook my head. "I won't lie for you."
"Can't you make the zombies lie?"
"The dead are very honest, Mr. Stirling. They don't lie."
He took a step towards me, face very sincere. "My entire future is riding on you, Ms. Blake."
"No, Mr.
"The view is magnificent," I said.
"Yes," Stirling said, "it is, isn't it?"
My black Nikes were covered in rust-colored dirt. The raw, wounded earth filled the mountaintop. This hilltop had probably been just as pretty as the rest once. There was an arm bone sticking out of the dirt next to my feet. The lower arm, judging from the length. The bones were slender and still connected by a dry remnant of tissue.
Once I'd seen one bone, my eyes found more to look at. It was like one of those magic-eye pictures where you stare and stare and suddenly see what's there. I saw them all, studding the ground like hands reaching up through a river of rust.
There were a few splintered coffins, their broken halves spilling out into the air, but mostly it was just bones. I knelt and put my hands palm down on the ruined earth. I tried to get some sense of the dead. There was something faint and far-off like a whiff of perfume, but it was no good. In the bright spring sunlight I couldn't work my. . magic. Raising the dead isn't evil, but it does require darkness. I don't know why.
I stood up, brushing my hands against the coverall, trying to clean the red dust away. Stirling was standing at the edge of the naked dirt staring off into space. There was a distance to his gaze that said he wasn't admiring the trees.
He spoke without looking at me, "I can't bully you, can I, Ms. Blake?"
"Nope," I said.
He turned to me with a smile, but it left his eyes empty, haunted. "I invested everything I had into this project. Not just my money, but clients' money. Do you understand what I am saying, Ms. Blake?"
"If the bodies up here are Bouviers, you're screwed."
"How eloquently you put it."
"Why are we up here alone, Mr. Stirling? Why all the skullduggery?"
He took a deep breath of the gentle air and said, "I want you to say they aren't Bouvier ancestors even if they are." He looked at me when he said it. Watched my face.
I smiled and shook my head. "I won't lie for you."
"Can't you make the zombies lie?"
"The dead are very honest, Mr. Stirling. They don't lie."
He took a step towards me, face very sincere. "My entire future is riding on you, Ms. Blake."
"No, Mr.