"Charles De Lint - Jack, The Giant-Killer" - читать интересную книгу автора (De Lint Charles)

levers.
The boy rose in a crouch, speared by the beams of
nine headlights. And it wasnтАЩt a boy, Jacky saw suddenly.
It was a manтАФa little man no taller than a child, with a tuft
of white hair at his chin, and more spilling out from under
a red cap. He had a short wooden staff in his hand that he
brandished at the bikers. His eyes glowed red in the
headbeams of the Harleys, like a foxтАЩs or a catтАЩs.
She saw all this in just one moment, the space between
one breath and the next, then her sneakers slipped on the
wet grass underfoot and she went sprawling. Adrenaline
burned through her, bringing her to her feet with a grace
and speed she wouldnтАЩt have been able to muster sober,
that she shouldnтАЩt have at all, drunk as she was. She saw
the little man charge the bikers.
A spark of light leapt from the leader of the black-clad
riders. It made a circuit of each biker, crackling from hand
to hand until it returned to the leader. Then it arced out
and the staff exploded. Not one of the riders had moved,
but the staff hung in splinters from the little manтАЩs hand. A
second spark made its circuit, darting from the leader to
the little man. He stiffened, dancing on the spot as though
he was being electrocuted, then he crumpled and fell to
the ground in a limp heap. Jacky reached the closest biker
at the same time.
 As she reached out to grab the black-leather clad arm,
the man turned. She looked for his face under his helmet,
but there seemed to be nothing there. Only shadow,
hidden by the smoked glass of a visor. She stumbled back
as the rider twisted the accelerator control of his bike. The
machine answered with a deep-throated growl and the bike
pulled away.
One by one they moved out, the roar of their loud
engines dwindling as they drew away. Jacky watched them
return the way theyтАЩd come. She hugged herself, shaking.
Then they were gone, around the corner, out of sight. The
sound of the machines should have remained, but it too
was cut off abruptly as the last machine disappeared from
view.
Jacky took a step towards the little man. His head lay at
an impossible angle, neck broken. Dead. She swallowed
thickly, throat dry. She looked at the backs of the houses.
There was still no sign that anyone in them had heard a
thing. She hesitated, looking from the houses back to the
broken body of the little man.
His cap had fallen when heтАЩd collapsed, coming to rest
not far from her feet. She picked it up. A manтАЩs dead, she
thought. Those bikersтАж She remembered what sheтАЩd
seen behind that one visor. Nothing. Shadow. But that had
been because of the smoked glass. That had been justтАж