"Mary Janice Davidson - Wyndham Werewolves 03 - Derik's Bane" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davidson Mary Janice)

head was throbbing, and it was hard to think.

Still, she should have been toast about three minutes ago.
 Okay, that was it. No more fooling around. She was treed on top of her dresser, which was bare of
things to throw at the momentтАФshe'd run out of ammo, finally. Instead of cowering, she crouched on it
like a cat, one with several swipes left in its paws.

"You son of a bitch," she rasped, hoarse from all the screaming hysterics. "I haven't done a single thing to
deserve thisтАФ"

"Well, not yet," he said.

"тАФand now look at this mess! Worse than usual! My house is a wreck, there's a tear in my skirt, there's
dead bodies all over my workplace, and my crazy blond stud of a mechanic's helper is trying to kill me!
Son of a bitch!"

"It's been a bad day for both of us," he admitted. Then, "Blond stud?" He was absurdly flattered.

"Fuck you! I want you to get lost andleave me the hell alone!"

She had screamed that last part, shrieked it, roared it. Her fury was intense, overwhelmingтАФ he couldn't
get the smell of burning cedar out of his noseтАФit was practically choking him.

Suddenly, startlingly, the pain in his head intensifiedтАФcripes, it felt like his skull was splitting!тАФand he
started to get dizzy for the first time in his life. It was extremely unpleasant. But before he could complain,
or explain, everything got dark around the edges, and the room tilted, and then he didn't know anything,
anything at all.




9

More exhilarated than frightened, Sara finished taping Psycho Jerkoff to her kitchen chair with her last
roll of electrician's tape (a must for any single woman's toolbox). Then she stood back, looked at him for
a long minute, and went to get her bag.

She supposed she should find a phone and call 911, but she wasn't too worried about what's-his-face
getting out of that chair. In fact, she wondered if he'd ever get up again ... he was the color of kitchen
plaster, and his body had a loose, boneless feel she didn't like at all.

She found her bag, shook the dirt off it, stepped over the spilled planter, and returned to the kitchen.
She briefly wished for a cell phoneтАФ she kept losing the fucking things, and she was paying for it
nowтАФand bent to Psycho Jerkoff. She peeled up one of his eyelids and grimacedтАФ blown pupil.Really
blown . .. the thing looked like a burst pumpkin, all brownish orange leaks. The sclera was shot with red
threads, and his breathing was gasping, agonal.

What had she done to him? Was it like the rapist who was waitingтАФ

But she wouldn't think about that now. What happened back then wasn't relevant to this poor fucker ...