"Elrod, P N - Vampire Files 05 - Fire In The Blood E-Txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elrod P N)

since I've had no actual contact with the client. I can positively state that
the gentleman is determined, if nothing else, and possessed of some degree of
consideration, in that he was kind enough to send his chauffeur over to make
sure I did not miss his requested appointment." followed the cant of his eyes up
the basement steps to the hall door. As he spoke, the doorwayЧthe entire
doorwayЧwas blocked by the presence of a uniformed Negro. He was built like an
industrial-grade refrigerator. Escott couldn't really say anything in so many
words, but this was definitely one of those times when he wanted someone to
watch his back.
"So, what's the client's name?" I asked, all interest now.
"Sebastian Pierce," he said.
"Never heard of him."
"He was quite a large noise in Chicago some twenty-five years ago. After making
a fortune from various investments, he then retired to enjoy it."
"We should all be so lucky."
"And this is his chauffeur, Mr. Griffin."
Griffin nodded once at me. "Good evening, sir." The amused look on his face
indicated that he'd noticed the pajamas and bathrobe.
"Good evening," I returned, and tried to look dignified in spite of the
unconventional surroundings. Maybe Escott had told him I was checking the
furnace. "What time's this appointment?"
"Eight o'clock. We can just make it if you hurry." Escott turned and trotted
lightly up the basement steps, pausing only a moment at the top so Griffin could
vacate the doorway. He hardly made a sound. Maybe Escott wanted me to cover him,
but who the hell was supposed to cover me? I gave an inward shrug and followed.
For the time being Olivia would just have to wait at the altar.
Escott and I started rooming together a couple weeks after the night I woke up
dead on a Lake Michigan beach. He owned a three-story brick relic that had been
a bordello in less innocent days. It had plenty of space and we'd both agreed
that it offered me more privacy than a hotel. We shared the bills and I had two
rooms upstairs with my own bath, but when writing, the basement was my exclusive
territory. The intervening floors served as soundproofing, so the clack of my
typewriter in the wee morning hours didn't disturb what little sleep his
insomnia allowed him.
I'm up so late and only after dark because I'm a vampire.
Just like the folklore says, I drink blood for sustenanceЧ usually at the Union
Stockyards every other night, depending how active I am. The cattle there don't
seem to mind. Human blood has its own special appeal, but like most people, I
keep my nourishment separate from my sex life.
I don't have any aversion to crosses, garlic, or silver, though I do have a
problem with wood and crossing free-flowing water. I can't turn into a bat or
wolf, but can disappear, float around, and even walk through walls if required.
Most of the time I use doorsЧit's less conspicuous.
During the day I'm stretched out on a fairly comfortable folding bed that has a
layer of my home earth sewn up in a long, flat sheet of oilcloth. The bed is in
Escott's basement, hidden behind a fire-resistant brick wall that he'd built
himself. The tiny room beyond is located exactly under the kitchen, and Escott
had thoughtfully fitted a trap into the floor there for emergencies. It was well
hidden by his carpentry skill and a throw rug. I don't have a coffin. I hate
coffins.