"Gilman,.Laura.Anne.-.Overrush.(A.Wren.and.Sergei.Story)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gilman Laura Anne)

Wren nodded once. It wasn't the usual run for Sergei to be with her
on a job, but you had to mix it up every now and again. If they start
expecting one, give them two. If they expect two, don't hit them at
all that night, that week, that place. And when they expect stealth,
walk in the front door.
"Mr. Didier, a pleasure, a pleasure indeed ..." Wren tuned out the
host's nervous bubbling. If 'jackers were bad about hanging around
each other, gallery owners were worse. At least a 'jacker would let
you see the knife before it went into your back. She detached
herself from Sergei's side and began to wander around the gallery.
It was larger than Sergei's and more eclectic. There was a series
of oddly twisted wire shapes that she thought she might like. Then
she saw them from a different angle and shuddered. Maybe not.
Snagging a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter,
she took a ladylike swig, licked her lips, and in a heartbeat
effectively disappeared from the awareness of everyone else in
the room. There wasn't any real magic to itЧherd-mentality
clothing, a perfectly ordinary body and face, and a strong desire
not to be noticed, sewn together by the faintest of mental
suggestions that wafted along the current that was humming in the
lights strung along the room, illuminating the exhibits.
Walking slowly, she made a half-circuit of the main floor, then
moved up the short, straight staircase against the back of the wall.
Nobody saw her lift the velvet rope barricading the steps, nobody
saw her move up into the private areas of the gallery.
She barely paused at the primary security system at the top of the
stairs. Her no-see-me cantrip was passive, neither defensive nor
aggressive, and she passed through the barrier of current without a
hitch.
Wren cast one look back down the stairs, picking Sergei out of the
crowd with ease. He was leaning in to hear what an older woman
was saying, his shoulders relaxed, his right hand holding a glass,
his left gesturing as he replied, making the woman laugh. If you
didn't know what to look for, you'd never recognize the break in the
line of his coat as a holster. The one time Wren had picked up the
compact, heavy handgun, she'd spent the next hour dry-heaving
over the toilet. Psychometry wasn't one of her stronger skills, but
she could feel the lives that gun had taken.
But hating something didn't mean it wasn't a good idea to bring it
along.
Moving down the hallway, Wren counted doorways silently,
stopping when she came to the seventh. A touch of the doorknob
confirmed that there were elementals locking it. Trying to use
magic to force them out would bring smarter guards down to
investigate, exactly what she didn't want.
Going back to the stairs, she leaned against the wall, just below the
protective barrier, and took a deep breath. As she exhaled, slowly,
she touched the current, sending a wave of disturbance racing
down the stairs.
The twinkling lights in the gallery window went out with a satisfying