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Blue Moon :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 27 из 327Ididn't know whether he was playing dead or trying to get a tan.
"A little help here," Jason said, kicking his foot towards the rest of the luggage. Two suitcases and a huge trunk still sat unclaimed.
I walked towards them. "Jesus, only one of those suitcases is mine. Who's the clotheshorse?"
Zane and Cherry put the coffin gently on the Tarmac. "Just one suitcase is mine," Zane said.
"Three of them are mine," Cherry said. She sounded vaguely embarrassed.
"Who brought the trunk?"
"Jean-Claude sent it," Jason said. "Just in case we do meet with the local master. He wanted us to make a good show of it."
I frowned at the trunk. "Please tell me there's nothing in there that Jean-Claude plans on me wearing."
Jason grinned.
I shook my head. "I don't want to see it."
"Maybe you'll get lucky," Jason said. "Maybe they'll try to kill you instead."
I frowned at him. "You're just full of happy thoughts."
"My speciality," he said.
Nathaniel turned his head and looked at me, hands clasped across his bare stomach. "I can lift the coffin, but it's not balanced right for carrying. I need help."
"You certainly do," I said.
He blinked up at me, one hand raised to block the sun. I moved until my body blocked the sun and he could look at me without squinting. He smiled up at me.
"What's with the coffin sunbathing?" I asked.
The smile wilted around the edges, then faded completely. "It's the scene in the crypt," he said as if that explained everything. It didn't.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
He raised just his shoulders and head off the coffin like he was doing stomach crunches. His abs bunched nicely with the effort. "You really haven't watched my movies, have you?"
"Sorry," I said.
He sat up the rest of the way, smoothing his hair back with both hands in a practiced gesture. He slipped a silver clasp around the hair and flipped the tail of auburn hair behind his back.
"I thought silver jewelry burned when it touched a lycanthrope's skin," I said.
He wiggled his hair, settling the silver clasp securely against his neck. "It does," he said.
"A little pain makes the world go round, I guess."
He just stared at me with his strange eyes. He was only nineteen, but the look on his face was older, much older. There were no lines on that smooth skin, but there were shadows in those eyes that nothing would ever erase. Cosmetic surgery for the soul was what he needed.
"A little help here," Jason said, kicking his foot towards the rest of the luggage. Two suitcases and a huge trunk still sat unclaimed.
I walked towards them. "Jesus, only one of those suitcases is mine. Who's the clotheshorse?"
Zane and Cherry put the coffin gently on the Tarmac. "Just one suitcase is mine," Zane said.
"Three of them are mine," Cherry said. She sounded vaguely embarrassed.
"Who brought the trunk?"
"Jean-Claude sent it," Jason said. "Just in case we do meet with the local master. He wanted us to make a good show of it."
I frowned at the trunk. "Please tell me there's nothing in there that Jean-Claude plans on me wearing."
Jason grinned.
I shook my head. "I don't want to see it."
"Maybe you'll get lucky," Jason said. "Maybe they'll try to kill you instead."
I frowned at him. "You're just full of happy thoughts."
"My speciality," he said.
Nathaniel turned his head and looked at me, hands clasped across his bare stomach. "I can lift the coffin, but it's not balanced right for carrying. I need help."
"You certainly do," I said.
He blinked up at me, one hand raised to block the sun. I moved until my body blocked the sun and he could look at me without squinting. He smiled up at me.
"What's with the coffin sunbathing?" I asked.
The smile wilted around the edges, then faded completely. "It's the scene in the crypt," he said as if that explained everything. It didn't.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
He raised just his shoulders and head off the coffin like he was doing stomach crunches. His abs bunched nicely with the effort. "You really haven't watched my movies, have you?"
"Sorry," I said.
He sat up the rest of the way, smoothing his hair back with both hands in a practiced gesture. He slipped a silver clasp around the hair and flipped the tail of auburn hair behind his back.
"I thought silver jewelry burned when it touched a lycanthrope's skin," I said.
He wiggled his hair, settling the silver clasp securely against his neck. "It does," he said.
"A little pain makes the world go round, I guess."
He just stared at me with his strange eyes. He was only nineteen, but the look on his face was older, much older. There were no lines on that smooth skin, but there were shadows in those eyes that nothing would ever erase. Cosmetic surgery for the soul was what he needed.