JК
Guilty Pleasures :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 193 из 205It is hard, messy work, though I don't throw up anymore. I am a professional, after all.
He took a small case out of his own backpack. It held syringes. He drew out an ampule of some greyish liquid. “Silver nitrate,” he said.
Silver. Bane of the undead. Scourge of the supernatural. And all nicely modernized. “Does it work?” I asked.
“It works.” He filled one syringe and asked, “How old is this one?”
“A little over a hundred,” I said.
“Two ought to do it.” He shoved the needle into the big vein in Valentine's neck. Before he had filled the syringe a second time, the body shivered. He shoved the second dose into the neck. Valentine's body arched against the walls of the coffin. His mouth opened and closed. He gasped for air as if he were drowning.
Edward filled up another syringe and handed it towards me. I stared at it.
“It isn't going to bite,” he said.
I took it gingerly between my thumb and the first two fingers on my right hand.
“What's the matter with you?” he asked.
“I'm not a big fan of needles.”
He grinned. “You're afraid of needles?”
I scowled at him. “Not exactly.”
Valentine's body shook and bucked, hands thumping against the wooden walls. It made a small, helpless noise. His eyes never opened. He was going to sleep through his own death.
He gave one last shuddering jump, then collapsed against the side of the coffin like a broken rag doll.
“He doesn't look very dead,” I said.
“They never do.”
“Stake their heart and chop off their heads, and you know they're dead.”
“This isn't staking,” he said.
I didn't like it. Valentine lay there looking very whole and nearly human. I wanted to see some rotting flesh and bones turning to dust. I wanted to know he was dead.
“No one has ever gotten up out of their coffin after a syringe full of silver nitrate, Anita.”
I nodded but remained unconvinced.
“You check the other side. Go on.”
I went, but I kept glancing back at Valentine. He had haunted my nightmares for years, nearly killed me. He just didn't look dead enough for me.
I opened the first coffin on my side, one-handed, holding the syringe carefully. An injection of silver nitrate probably wouldn't do me much good either. The coffin was empty. The white imitation silk lining had conformed to the body like a mattress, but the body wasn't there.
I flinched and stared around the room, but there was nothing there.
He took a small case out of his own backpack. It held syringes. He drew out an ampule of some greyish liquid. “Silver nitrate,” he said.
Silver. Bane of the undead. Scourge of the supernatural. And all nicely modernized. “Does it work?” I asked.
“It works.” He filled one syringe and asked, “How old is this one?”
“A little over a hundred,” I said.
“Two ought to do it.” He shoved the needle into the big vein in Valentine's neck. Before he had filled the syringe a second time, the body shivered. He shoved the second dose into the neck. Valentine's body arched against the walls of the coffin. His mouth opened and closed. He gasped for air as if he were drowning.
Edward filled up another syringe and handed it towards me. I stared at it.
“It isn't going to bite,” he said.
I took it gingerly between my thumb and the first two fingers on my right hand.
“What's the matter with you?” he asked.
“I'm not a big fan of needles.”
He grinned. “You're afraid of needles?”
I scowled at him. “Not exactly.”
Valentine's body shook and bucked, hands thumping against the wooden walls. It made a small, helpless noise. His eyes never opened. He was going to sleep through his own death.
He gave one last shuddering jump, then collapsed against the side of the coffin like a broken rag doll.
“He doesn't look very dead,” I said.
“They never do.”
“Stake their heart and chop off their heads, and you know they're dead.”
“This isn't staking,” he said.
I didn't like it. Valentine lay there looking very whole and nearly human. I wanted to see some rotting flesh and bones turning to dust. I wanted to know he was dead.
“No one has ever gotten up out of their coffin after a syringe full of silver nitrate, Anita.”
I nodded but remained unconvinced.
“You check the other side. Go on.”
I went, but I kept glancing back at Valentine. He had haunted my nightmares for years, nearly killed me. He just didn't look dead enough for me.
I opened the first coffin on my side, one-handed, holding the syringe carefully. An injection of silver nitrate probably wouldn't do me much good either. The coffin was empty. The white imitation silk lining had conformed to the body like a mattress, but the body wasn't there.
I flinched and stared around the room, but there was nothing there.