"C. S. Friedman - Coldfire 2 - When True Night Falls" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friedman C. S)

he had chosen to assign him to therapy instead, and now he
was paying the price for that decision.

"Listen," she whispered. "Here he comes."

He nodded, noting that though her jacket and pants were
dark enough for cover her pale skin glowed like a beacon in
the moonlight. They should have thought of that. Rubbed
her down with charcoal, or lampblack, or . . . something.
Made her dark, like him, so that they could creep through
the night unseen. Too late for that now, he thought. He
cursed himself for carelessness and motioned for her to
keep low, so that the weeds might obscure her face.

True night was about to fail. Less than half an hour now.
Case told himself that the term was a mere technicality, that
even on Earth heavy cloudcover might obscure the stars
and moon, leaving a man in total darkness - but he knew
that there was more to it than that. He had tasted its true
power once in the field, by turning off his lantern so that
the darkness was free to envelop him - a darkness so
absolute, so utterly boundless, that all the shadows of Earth
paled by comparison. The mere memory of it made his skin
crawl. By now the whole camp would be alight with
beacons, bright floods fighting to drive back the shadows of
the triple night. As if mere light would help. As if mere
walls could keep the serpent out of Eden, or prevent it from
reading their secret thoughts, from turning their fears and
even their desires against them.

As he listened for the sound of Ian's approach, he
remembered the night it had come for him, the serpent
incarnate in an angel's form. Remembered how all his fear
and his skepticism and even his innate caution were
banished from his soul in an instant, as though they had
never existed. Because what had stepped out from the
shadows was his son - his son!- as young and as healthy as
he had been ten years ago, before the accident that took him
from Case's life. And in that moment there was no fear in
the Commander's heart, no suspicion, not even a moment's
doubt. Love filled him with such force that he trembled,
and tears poured down his cheeks. He whispered his son's
name, and the figure moved toward him. He reached out his
hand, and the creature touched him - it touched him! - and
it was warm, and alive, and he knew it by touch and scent
and a thousand other signs. Christ in heaven, his son was
alive again! He opened his arms wide and gathered the boy
up, buried his face in his hair (and the smell was familiar,
even that was right) and cried, let all the pain pour out in a
tsunami of raw emotion, an endless tide of grief and love