"Simon R. Green - Haven 06 - Bones of Haven" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Simon R)

almost to be moving, drawing closerтАж Suddenly Hawk was falling, and he put out his hands
instinctively to break his fall. His palms slapped hard against the cold stone floor of the cell, and he
was suddenly shocked into awareness again. His gaze fell on the Portrait, and he scrabbled backwards
across the floor away from it, his gaze averted, until his back was pressed against the far cell wall.

"Take it easy," said Fisher, kneeling down beside him. "Barber spotted something was wrong, and
pulled you away from the Portrait when you wouldn't answer him. You feeling all right now?"

"Sure," said Hawk quickly. "Fine. Help me up, would you?"

Fisher and Barber got him on his feet again, and he smiled his thanks and waved them away. He was
careful not even to glance in the Portrait's direction as he left the cell to make his report to Winter.

"Whatever was in the Portrait originally has got out and is running loose somewhere in Hell Wing.
One of the rioters has taken its place. Is there any way we can get him out?"

"Only by replacing him with someone else," said Storm. "That's the way the curse works."

"Then there's nothing more we can do here," said Winter. "If you've fully recovered, Captain, I think
we should move on."

Hawk nodded quickly, and the SWAT team set off down the corridor again.

"At least we've got one less rioter to worry about," said Hawk after a while. The others looked at him.
"Just trying to look on the bright side," he explained.

"Nice try," said Winter. "Hang on to that cheerfulness. You're going to need it. From what I've heard,
we'd be better off facing a dozen rioters with the plague than the Portrait's original occupant. It might
have been human once, but its time in the Portrait changed it. Now it's a nightmare in flesh and blood,
every evil thought you ever had given shape and form, and it's running loose in Hell Wing with us. So,
along with all our other problems, we're going to have to track it down and kill it before we leave.
Assuming it can be killed."

"Are you always this optimistic?" asked Fisher.

Winter snorted. "If there was any room for optimism, they wouldn't have called us in."

"Something's coming," said Storm suddenly. "I can't see it, but I can feel it. Something powerfulтАж"

Winter barked orders, and the SWAT team fell quickly into a defensive formation, with Barber, Hawk,
and Fisher at the point, weapons at the ready. Hawk glanced thoughtfully at Barber. Now that there
was finally a chance at some action, the weaponmaster had come fully alive. His dark eyes were fixed
eagerly on the gloom ahead, and his grin was disturbingly wolfish. A sudden conviction rooted itself in
Hawk that Barber would look just the same if the order ever came down for the weaponmaster to go
after him or Fisher. Barber didn't give a damn for the law or for justice. He was just a man born to kill,
a butcher waiting to be unleashed, and to him one target was as good as any other. There was no room
in a man like Barber for conscience or ethics.

A sudden sound caught Hawk's attention, and his thoughts snapped back to the situation at hand.
Something was coming towards them out of the darkness. Hawk's grip tightened on his axe. Footsteps