"Evans,.Linda.-.Far.Edge.Of.Darkness" - читать интересную книгу автора (Evans Linda)

Sibyl jammed the accelerator pedal against the floor.

Impossibly, the car lurched forward.

The brilliant rupture swooped hungrily toward her, vast as the
surface of the sun. Sibyl screamed and fought the gear shift. It was
frozen in place, solid as a mountain. Lightning caught the VW and
danced over the hood, spraying pink hell across the windshield.

Then blinding white light swallowed Nuggie whole.

Sibyl threw her arms across her face and screamed again, high,
ragged. The brilliance was so intense it burned. A flash of
disorienting nausea tore through her, along with the sensation of
falling forever. The last thing she remembered was the vile smell
of vomit.



Logan didn't outrun the storm.

Not that he really tried. He was enjoying the view across the lake
and the clean, green scent of the wind far too much to seek
shelter. He'd sat here since early morning, knitting more of that
hideous sweater he'd begun several months ago, just to keep his
restless hands occupied. While he knitted, Logan watched tall,
ungainly wading birds stalk fish for their dinnerЧand 'gators stalk
birds for theirs. So far the 'gators had gone hungry. Logan's belly
rumbled in hollow sympathy.

All through the day a steady parade of college kids, outrageous in
pink jeans and orange hair, had hiked down from main campus.
Most ignored him, much as they might have ignored a lizard
sunning on a log. That was all right. He ignored them, too. Others,
though . . .

Logan glanced up as a foursome made their noisy approach down
the wooded path to the observation deck where he sat. Nice-
looking kids. Or they might have been, if their clothes hadn't been
artistically ripped to shreds, their hair chopped off apparently by
machetes, and their faces painted with inch-thick purple and
orange makeup.

At least, the girls' were, if he was interpreting the bulges correctly.
There wasn't much evidence on which to base a determination,
since all four wore at least some makeup, a number of massive,
unmatched earrings, and clothes loose enough to disguise even
the most tell-tale anatomy. The cloying scent of clove cigarettes
filled the air. The cloying sameness of their "rebellious look"
blurred them into a whole generation with the same face, the same