"P. N. Elrod - Vampire Files 08 - The Dark Sleep" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elrod P N)

I shut my eyes against the vision, willing it out of my mind. It had been two months, more than two
months, since the killings at what had come to be known as "The Dance Hall of Doom" occurred. You'd
think I'd be over it by now. I'd gotten away clean from the slaughter_except for the crap lingering in my
head. The various investigations had pretty much closed the case; the smarter ones even hastened the
closing lest some bright light decided the official version and the facts didn't jibe quite as well as they
should. It was a shoot-out between law and crooks with both sides killing one another off, no survivors,
and that was that. Several government agents gave their lives in the performance of their duty and were
honorably laid to rest, their sacrifice held up as an example to their peers. Nobody needed to hear the
true story; times were discouraging enough.

"'Lo, Fleming," said a deep voice above and behind me.

I gave a start in spite of myself. If my heart had been beating it might have gone on strike just then.

2

Gordy Weems, manager of the Nightcrawler and resplendent in the new tux he'd had tailor-made for the
opening, loomed over me with a hint of smile on his normally phlegmatic face. "What's up, you see a
ghost?"

"No, but you sure as hell move like one." He was a huge man, not fat, and amazingly light on his feet for
his bulk. Despite the surrounding babble Ishould have been able to hear his approach. Maybe I was
having a case of opening-night jitters myself.Or more likely a hangover from a not-so-long-ago
closing night .

"You looked like hell for a moment," he said. "Anything I should know about?"

I shook my head. "Just remembering that damned dance hall."

What little hint of pleasure he'd shown instantly disappeared. "One rough job."

"And then some." He'd been along with me, and I'd helped him survive the killings and get away.
Apparently he had his own bad memories to look after.

"Where's Bobbi?" I asked. I knew where she'd be, but 'wanted a change of subject.

"Backstage getting warmed up. Might be a good idea to keep clear."

"Yeah, I will." Better I stay out front so she could concentrate on her work. Bobbi would be nervous
enough without having me underfoot. Besides, I'd already offered my good-luck wishes the night before,
having Escott's answering service order a big bunch of flowers sent to her dressing room today. Daisies
and carnations, mostly, her favorites.

He glanced at his watch. "We got thirty before the show, let's go upstairs."

"Won't you be needed down here?"

"Not unless there's a riot. The staff's got brains, they can handle anything short of that. The rest is the
stage manager's problem."