"Harlan Ellison - Troublemakers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ellison Harlan)

I was reluctant to run after her; it was somehow terribly demeaning. But she was getting farther and
farther away. There were bums in the Square, sitting slouched on the benches, their arms out along the
backs. Itinerants, kids with beards and knapsacks. I was suddenly frightened for her. Impossible. She
had been dead for a hundred years. There was no reason for it . . . I was afraid for her!

I started running, the sound of my footsteps echoing up and around the Square. I caught her at the corner
and dragged her around. She tried to slap me, and I caught her hand. She kept trying to hit me, to
scratch my face with the manicured nails. I held her and swung her away from me, swung her around,
and around, dizzyingly, trying to keep her off-balance. She swung wildly, crying out and saying things
inarticulately. Finally, she stumbled and I pulled her in to me and held her tight against my body.

тАЬStop it! Stop, Lizette! I . . .stop it! тАЭ She went limp against me and I felt her crying against my chest. I
took her into the shadows and my unicorn came down Decatur Street and stood under a streetlamp,
waiting.

The chimera winds rose. I heard them, and knew we were well on the downhill side, that time was
growing short. I held her close and smelled the woodsmoke scent of her hair. тАЬListen to me,тАЭ I said,
softly, close to her. тАЬListen to me, Lizette. Our timeтАЩs almost gone. This is our last chance. YouтАЩve lived
in stone for a hundred years; IтАЩve heard you cry. IтАЩve come there, to that place, night after night, and IтАЩve
heard you cry. YouтАЩve paid enough, God knows. So have I. We cando it. WeтАЩve got one more chance,
and we can make it, if youтАЩll try. ThatтАЩs all I ask. Try.тАЭ

She pushed away from me, tossing her head so the auburn hair swirled away from her face. Her eyes
were dry. Ghosts can do that. Cry without making tears. Tears are denied us. Other things; I wonтАЩt talk
of them here.

тАЬI lied to you,тАЭ she said.

I touched the side of her face. The high cheekbone just at the hairline. тАЬI know. My unicorn would never
have let you touch him if you werenтАЩt pure. IтАЩm not, but he has no choice with me. He was assigned to
me. HeтАЩs my familiar and he puts up with me. WeтАЩre friends.тАЭ

тАЬNo. Other lies. My life was a lie. IтАЩve told them all to you. We canтАЩt make it. You have to let me go.тАЭ

I didnтАЩt know exactly where, but I knew how it would happen. I argued with her, trying to convince her
there was a way for us. But she couldnтАЩt believe it, hadnтАЩt the strength or the will or the faith. Finally, I let
her go.

She put her arms around my neck, and drew my face down to hers, and she held me that way for a few
moments. Then the winds rose, and there were sounds in the night, the sounds of calling, and she left me
there, in the shadows.

I sat down on the curb and thought about the years since IтАЩd died. Years without much music. Light
leached out. Wandering. Nothing to pace me but memories and the unicorn. How sad I was forhim ;
assigned to me till I got my chance. And now it had come and IтАЩd taken my best go, and failed.

Lizette and I were the two sides of the same coin; devalued and impossible to spend. Legal tender of
nations long since vanished, no longer even names on the cracked papyrus of cartographersтАЩ maps. We
had been snatched away from final rest, had been set adrift to roam for our crimes, and only once
between death and eternity would we receive a chance. This night . . . this nothing-special night . . . this