JК
Circus of the Damned :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 96 из 210The crowd of lawyers and relatives huddled at the foot of the grave. There was no family member inside the blood circle with the new animator. Normally, you put a family member behind the tombstone so he or she could control the zombie. This way, only the animator could control it. But it wasn't an oversight, it was the law. The dead could be raised to request and dictate a will but only if the animator, or some neutral party, had control of it.
The mound of flowers shuddered and a pale hand shot upward, grabbing at the air. Two hands, the top of a head. The zombie spilled from the grave like it was being pulled by strings.
The new animator stumbled. He fell to his knees in the soft dirt and dying flowers. The magic stuttered, wavering. He'd bitten off one zombie more than he could finish. The dead man was still struggling from the grave. Still trying to get its legs free, but there was no one controlling it. Lawrence Kirkland had raised the zombie, but he couldn't control it. The zombie would be on its own with no one to make it mind. Uncontrolled zombies give animators a bad name.
One of the lawyers was saying, "Are you all right?"
Lawrence Kirkland nodded his head, but he was too exhausted to speak. Did he even now realize what he'd done? I didn't think so. He wasn't scared enough.
I walked up to the huddled group. "Ms. Blake, we missed you," the lawyer said. "Your. . associate seems to be ill."
I gave them my best professional smile. See nothing wrong. A zombie isn't about to go amuck. Trust me.
I walked to the edge of the blood circle. I could feel it like a wind pushing me back. The circle was shut, and I was on the outside. I couldn't get in unless Lawrence asked me in.
He was on all fours, hands lost in the flowers of the grave. His head hung down, as if he was too tired to raise it. He probably was.
"Lawrence," I said softly, "Lawrence Kirkland."
He turned his head in slow motion. Even in the dark I could see the exhaustion in his pale eyes. His arms were trembling. God, help us.
I leaned in close so the audience couldn't hear what I said. We'd try to keep the illusion that this was just business as usual, as long as I could. If we were lucky, the zombie would just wander away. If we weren't lucky, it would hurt someone. The dead are usually pretty forgiving of the living, but not always. If Andrew Doughal hated one of his relatives, it would be a long night.
"Lawrence, you have to break the circle and let me in," I said.
He just stared at me, eyes dull, no glimmer of understanding. Shit.
"Break the circle, Lawrence, now.
The mound of flowers shuddered and a pale hand shot upward, grabbing at the air. Two hands, the top of a head. The zombie spilled from the grave like it was being pulled by strings.
The new animator stumbled. He fell to his knees in the soft dirt and dying flowers. The magic stuttered, wavering. He'd bitten off one zombie more than he could finish. The dead man was still struggling from the grave. Still trying to get its legs free, but there was no one controlling it. Lawrence Kirkland had raised the zombie, but he couldn't control it. The zombie would be on its own with no one to make it mind. Uncontrolled zombies give animators a bad name.
One of the lawyers was saying, "Are you all right?"
Lawrence Kirkland nodded his head, but he was too exhausted to speak. Did he even now realize what he'd done? I didn't think so. He wasn't scared enough.
I walked up to the huddled group. "Ms. Blake, we missed you," the lawyer said. "Your. . associate seems to be ill."
I gave them my best professional smile. See nothing wrong. A zombie isn't about to go amuck. Trust me.
I walked to the edge of the blood circle. I could feel it like a wind pushing me back. The circle was shut, and I was on the outside. I couldn't get in unless Lawrence asked me in.
He was on all fours, hands lost in the flowers of the grave. His head hung down, as if he was too tired to raise it. He probably was.
"Lawrence," I said softly, "Lawrence Kirkland."
He turned his head in slow motion. Even in the dark I could see the exhaustion in his pale eyes. His arms were trembling. God, help us.
I leaned in close so the audience couldn't hear what I said. We'd try to keep the illusion that this was just business as usual, as long as I could. If we were lucky, the zombie would just wander away. If we weren't lucky, it would hurt someone. The dead are usually pretty forgiving of the living, but not always. If Andrew Doughal hated one of his relatives, it would be a long night.
"Lawrence, you have to break the circle and let me in," I said.
He just stared at me, eyes dull, no glimmer of understanding. Shit.
"Break the circle, Lawrence, now.