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

THE PAST

The man had short brown hair, neatly trimmed. His eyes were that mold-colored shade between gray
and brown, a color everyone has seen at one time or another in the back of their fridge. His skin was the
color of cheap milk chocolate, and his height was supremely average. He was dressed in a suit several
shades lighter than his skin tone, a white button-down shirt, and a gray tie with brown stripes. He had a
plain gold wedding band on the third finger of his left hand, although he wasn't married. He wore black
wire-rimmed glasses, although his eyesight was 20/20, and his shoes had never been shined. He looked
like an accountant.

He wasn't an accountant.

The man gazed through the glass at DOE, JANE, born seventy-two minutes ago. DOE, JANE was a
sweetly chubby infant with a wild shock of dark red hair. DOE, JANE was apparently born surprised,
because her hair stood straight up from her skull, and her small reddish brows arched above her blue,
blue eyes. She opened her small, wet mouth and let out a yell the man who wasn't an accountant could
hear even through the glass.

"Well?" the nurse asked. She was a floater, here at the hospitalтАФso thought those in charge of such
thingsтАФbecause of understaffing. In truth, her presence at the delivery of DOE, JANE had been foretold
six centuries ago. As had the violent death of DOE, JANE's father just minutes before the child crowned.
As had, of course, DOE, JANE herself. "Is it... are they right? Is thatтАФ?"

"She who will redeem us, and our king," the man replied, "yes. She is Morgan Le Fay, among us again,
and this time she will do what she could not before. This time..." The man smiled, showing a great many
white teeth. Too many, it seemed, for his average, unassuming mouth. 'This time, ours will be done."

The nurse smiled back. By contrast, her smile wasn't frightening in the leastтАФshe had the grin of a
beauty contestant. But her eyes were dead.

They watched DOE, JANE through the glass for a long time.




1

THE PRESENT

Michael Wyndham stepped out of his bedroom, walked down the hall, and saw his best friend, Derik
Gardner, on the main floor headed for the front door. He grabbed the banister and vaulted, dropped
fifteen feet, and landed with a solid thud he felt all the way through his knees. "Hey, Derik!" he called
cheerfully. "Wait a sec!" From his bedroom he heard his wife mutter, "Ihate when he does that... gives
me a flippin' heart attack every time," and couldn't help grinning. Wyndham Manor had been his home all
his life, and the only time he walked up or down those stairs was when he was carrying his daughter,
Lara. He didn't know how ordinary humans could stand walking around in their fragile little shells. He'd
tried to talk to his wife about this on a few occasions, but her eyes always went flinty, and her gun hand
flexed, and the phrase "hairy fascist bastard" came up, and things got awkward. Werewolves were tough,
incredibly tough, but compared to Homo sapiens, who wasn't?