"Brooks,.Terry.-.Word03.-.Angel.Fire.East" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brooks Terry)

Her mother's picture was missing from the group. Caitl in Anne
Freemark had been too fragile for the magi c' s demands. She had
died young, just after Nest was born, a victim of her demon lover's
treachery. Nest kept her pictures on a table in the living room
where it was always sunlit and cheerful.

The knock came a third time just as she reached the door and
opened it. The tiny silver bells that encircled the bough wreath that
hung beneath the peephole tinkled softly with the movement. She
had not done much with Christmas decoration sЧn o tree, no
lights, no tinsel, only fresh greens, a scattering of brightly colored
bows, and a few wall hangings that had belonged to Gran. This
year Christmas would be celebrated mostly in her heart.

The chill, dry winter air was sharp and bracing as she unlatched the
storm door, pushed it away, and stepped out onto the porch.

The old man who stood waiting was dressed all in black. He was
wearing what in other times would have been called a frock coat,
which was double-breasted with wide lapels and hung to his knees.
A flat-brimmed black hat sat firmly in place over wisps of white hair
that stuck out from underneath as if trying to escape. His face was
seamed and browned by the wind and sun, and his eyes were a
watery gray as they blinked at her. When he smiled , as he was
doing, his whole face seemed to join in, creasing cheerfully from
forehead to chin. He was taller than Nest by several inches, and he
stooped as if to make up for the disparity.

She was reminded suddenly of an old-time preacher, the kind that
appeared in southern got h ics and ghost stories, railing against
godlessness and mankind's paucity of moral resolve.

"Good morning," he said , his voice gravelly and deep. He dipped
his head slightly, reaching up to touch the brim of his odd hat.

"Good morning," she replied.

"Miss Freemark, my name is Findo Gask, " he announced. "I am a
minister of the faith and a bearer of the holy word."

As if to emphasize the point, he held up a black, leather-bound
tome from which dangled a silken bookmark.

She nodded , waiting. Somehow he knew her name, although she
had no memory of meeting him before.

"It is a fine, grand morning to be out and about, so I won't keep
you," he said , smiling reassuringly. "I see you are on your way to
church. I wouldn't want to stand in the way of a young lady and her