JК
Circus of the Damned :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 18 из 210Something that livedin blood and darkness.
The phone shrilled, and I had to swallow a scream. I wasn't usually this nervous. It was just a nightmare, dammit. Just a dream.
I fumbled for the receiver and managed, "Yeah."
"Anita?" The voice sounded hesitant, as if its owner might hang up.
"Who is this?"
"It's Willie, Willie McCoy." Even as he said the name, the rhythm of the voice sounded familiar. The phone made it distant and charged with an electric hiss, but I recognized it.
"Willie, how are you?" The minute I said it, I wished I hadn't. Willie was a vampire now; how okay could a dead man be?
"I'm doing real well." His voice had a happy lilt to it. He was pleased that I asked.
I sighed. Truth was, I liked Willie. I wasn't supposed to like vampires. Any vampire, not even if I'd known him when he was alive.
"How ya doing yourself?"
"Okay, what's up?"
"Jean-Claude got your message. He says ta meet him at the Circus of the Damned at eight o'clock tonight."
"The Circus? What's he doing over there?"
"He owns it now. Ya didn't know?"
I shook my head, realized he couldn't see it, and said, "No, I didn't."
"He says to meet 'im in a show that starts at eight."
"Which show?"
"He said you'd know which one."
"Well, isn't that cryptic," I said.
"Hey, Anita, I just do what I'm told. Ya know how it is?"
I did know. Jean-Claude owned Willie lock, stock, and soul. "It's okay, Willie, it's not your fault."
"Thanks, Anita." His voice sounded cheerful, like a puppy who expected a kick and got patted instead.
Why had I comforted him? Why did I care whether a vampire got its feelings hurt, or not? Answer: I didn't think of him as a dead man. He was still Willie McCoy with his penchant for loud primary-colored suits, clashing ties, and small, nervous hands. Being dead hadn't changed him that much. I wished it had.
"Tell Jean-Claude I'll be there."
"I will." He was quiet for a minute, his breath soft over the phone. "Watch your back tonight, Anita."
"Do you know something I should know?"
"No, but. . I don't know."
"What's up, Willie?"
"Nuthin', nuthin'." His voice was high and frightened.
"Am I walking into a trap, Willie?"
"No, no, nuthin' like that." I could almost see his small hands waving in the air. "I swear, Anita, nobody's gunnin' for you."
I let that go. Nobody he knew of was all he could swear to.
The phone shrilled, and I had to swallow a scream. I wasn't usually this nervous. It was just a nightmare, dammit. Just a dream.
I fumbled for the receiver and managed, "Yeah."
"Anita?" The voice sounded hesitant, as if its owner might hang up.
"Who is this?"
"It's Willie, Willie McCoy." Even as he said the name, the rhythm of the voice sounded familiar. The phone made it distant and charged with an electric hiss, but I recognized it.
"Willie, how are you?" The minute I said it, I wished I hadn't. Willie was a vampire now; how okay could a dead man be?
"I'm doing real well." His voice had a happy lilt to it. He was pleased that I asked.
I sighed. Truth was, I liked Willie. I wasn't supposed to like vampires. Any vampire, not even if I'd known him when he was alive.
"How ya doing yourself?"
"Okay, what's up?"
"Jean-Claude got your message. He says ta meet him at the Circus of the Damned at eight o'clock tonight."
"The Circus? What's he doing over there?"
"He owns it now. Ya didn't know?"
I shook my head, realized he couldn't see it, and said, "No, I didn't."
"He says to meet 'im in a show that starts at eight."
"Which show?"
"He said you'd know which one."
"Well, isn't that cryptic," I said.
"Hey, Anita, I just do what I'm told. Ya know how it is?"
I did know. Jean-Claude owned Willie lock, stock, and soul. "It's okay, Willie, it's not your fault."
"Thanks, Anita." His voice sounded cheerful, like a puppy who expected a kick and got patted instead.
Why had I comforted him? Why did I care whether a vampire got its feelings hurt, or not? Answer: I didn't think of him as a dead man. He was still Willie McCoy with his penchant for loud primary-colored suits, clashing ties, and small, nervous hands. Being dead hadn't changed him that much. I wished it had.
"Tell Jean-Claude I'll be there."
"I will." He was quiet for a minute, his breath soft over the phone. "Watch your back tonight, Anita."
"Do you know something I should know?"
"No, but. . I don't know."
"What's up, Willie?"
"Nuthin', nuthin'." His voice was high and frightened.
"Am I walking into a trap, Willie?"
"No, no, nuthin' like that." I could almost see his small hands waving in the air. "I swear, Anita, nobody's gunnin' for you."
I let that go. Nobody he knew of was all he could swear to.