JК
The Killing Dance :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 232 из 285There were so many cars that they were parked on every bit of spare ground, some so close to the woods that they touched the trees.
There may have been a full moon up there somewhere, but the clouds were so thick, the darkness so complete, that it was like standing inside a cave. Except this cave had movement. A small oozing wind trailed through the thick, night-darkened leaves. It was like some invisible giant trailed fingertips through the trees, bending them, rattling the leaves, giving movement to the night that made my shoulders tight. It was like the night itself was alive in a way that I'd never seen before.
Richard's hand was warm and slightly moist. He'd dampened that creeping energy so that it wasn't uncomfortable to touch him. I appreciated the effort. His leather cloak whispered as he moved closer. It was tied across his chest, covering only one shoulder. The cloak, combined with the full sleeves of the brilliant blue shirt, made the whole outfit seem antique.
Richard pulled on my hand, bringing me against his body, into the circle of his arms, the brush of the leather cloak. The clouds slid apart and suddenly we were bathed in a thick, silver glow. Richard was staring outward. He seemed to be listening to something that I couldn't hear. His hands convulsed around my hands, an almost painful squeeze. He stared down at me as if just remembering I was there.
He smiled. "Can you feel it?"
"What?"
"The night?"
I started to answer, no, then stopped. I looked around at the hurrying woods, the feeling of movement. "The woods seem more alive tonight."
His smile widened, a brief flash of teeth, almost a snarl. "Yes."
I tried to pull away, but his hands tightened. "You're doing it," I said. My heart was suddenly thudding in my throat. I'd thought to be afraid of a lot of things tonight, but not of Richard.
"We're supposed to share power. That's what I'm doing. But it has to be my power, Anita. The pack won't be impressed with zombies."
I swallowed past my beating heart and forced myself to stand very still. Made myself return the grip of his hands. I hadn't thought what it would mean. I wasn't going to be in charge. Not my power but his. I was going to be fuel for his fire, not the other way around.
"It's Jean-Claude's mark," I said. "That's what's doing it."
"We hoped it would work this way," Richard said.
And I knew that the we he was referring to didn't include me. "How does it work?"
"Like this." That trembling energy broke over his skin like a rush of warmth. It plunged through his hands into my hand.
There may have been a full moon up there somewhere, but the clouds were so thick, the darkness so complete, that it was like standing inside a cave. Except this cave had movement. A small oozing wind trailed through the thick, night-darkened leaves. It was like some invisible giant trailed fingertips through the trees, bending them, rattling the leaves, giving movement to the night that made my shoulders tight. It was like the night itself was alive in a way that I'd never seen before.
Richard's hand was warm and slightly moist. He'd dampened that creeping energy so that it wasn't uncomfortable to touch him. I appreciated the effort. His leather cloak whispered as he moved closer. It was tied across his chest, covering only one shoulder. The cloak, combined with the full sleeves of the brilliant blue shirt, made the whole outfit seem antique.
Richard pulled on my hand, bringing me against his body, into the circle of his arms, the brush of the leather cloak. The clouds slid apart and suddenly we were bathed in a thick, silver glow. Richard was staring outward. He seemed to be listening to something that I couldn't hear. His hands convulsed around my hands, an almost painful squeeze. He stared down at me as if just remembering I was there.
He smiled. "Can you feel it?"
"What?"
"The night?"
I started to answer, no, then stopped. I looked around at the hurrying woods, the feeling of movement. "The woods seem more alive tonight."
His smile widened, a brief flash of teeth, almost a snarl. "Yes."
I tried to pull away, but his hands tightened. "You're doing it," I said. My heart was suddenly thudding in my throat. I'd thought to be afraid of a lot of things tonight, but not of Richard.
"We're supposed to share power. That's what I'm doing. But it has to be my power, Anita. The pack won't be impressed with zombies."
I swallowed past my beating heart and forced myself to stand very still. Made myself return the grip of his hands. I hadn't thought what it would mean. I wasn't going to be in charge. Not my power but his. I was going to be fuel for his fire, not the other way around.
"It's Jean-Claude's mark," I said. "That's what's doing it."
"We hoped it would work this way," Richard said.
And I knew that the we he was referring to didn't include me. "How does it work?"
"Like this." That trembling energy broke over his skin like a rush of warmth. It plunged through his hands into my hand.