"Laurell K. Hamilton - Anita Blake 09 - Obsidian Butterfly" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Laurell K)

Jonathan (or Cathy, or whoever)?" one more time tonight, I'd scream. I did not
want to watch one more person "go with his or her feelings" ever. At least
with most of the lawyers the bereaved didn't come to the graveside. The
court-appointed lawyer would ascertain that the zombies raised had enough
cognitive ability to know what they were signing, then he would sign off on
the contract as a witness. If the zombie couldn't answer the questions, then
no legal signature. The corpse had to be of "sound" mind to sign a legally
binding signature. I'd never raised a zombie that couldn't pass the legal
definition of soundness, but it happened sometimes. Jamison, a fellow animator
at Animator's Inc., had a pair of lawyers come to blows on top of the grave.
What fun.
The air was cool enough to make me shiver as I walked down the sidewalk to
my door. I could hear the phone ringing as I fumbled the key into the lock. I
hit the door with my shoulder because no one ever calls just before dawn
unless it's important. For me that usually meant the police, which meant a
murder scene. I kicked the door closed and ran for the phone in the kitchen.
My answering machine had clicked on. My voice died on the machine and Edward's
voice came on.
"Anita, it's Edward. If you're there, pick up." Silence.
I was running full out and skidded on my high heels, grabbing the receiver
as I slid into the wall and nearly dropped the phone. I yelled into the
receiver as I juggled the phone, "Edward, Edward, it's me! I'm here!"
Edward was laughing softly when I could finally hear him.
"Glad I could be amusing. What's up?" I asked.
"I'm calling in my favor," he said quietly.
It was my turn for silence, Once upon a TIME Edward had come to my aid,
been my backup, He'd brought a friend, Harley, with him as more backup, I'd
ended up killing Harley. Now, Harley had tried to kill me first, and I'd just
been quicker, but Edward had taken the killing personally. Picky, picky.
Edward had given me a choice: either he and I could draw down on each other
and find out once and for all which of us was better, or I could owe him a
favor. Some day he would call me up and ask for me to be his backup like
Harley. I'd agreed to the favor. I never wanted to come up against Edward for
real. Because if I did, I was pretty sure I'd end up dead.
Edward was a hit man. He specialized in monsters. Vampires, shapeshifters,
anything and everything. There were people like me that did it legal, but
Edward didn't sweat the legalities, or hell, the ethics. He even occasionally
did a human, but only if they had some sort of dangerous reputation. Other
assassins, criminals, bad men, or women. Edward was an equal opportunity
killer. He never discriminated, not for sex, religion, race, or even species.
If it was dangerous, Edward would hunt it and kill it. It's what he lived for,
what he was тАУ a predator's predator.
He'd been offered a contract on my life once. He'd turned it down and had
come to town as my bodyguard, bringing Harley with him. I'd asked him why he
hadn't taken the contract. His answer had been simple. If he took the
contract, he only got to kill me. If he protected me, he thought he'd get to
kill more people. Perfect Edward reasoning.
He's either a sociopath or so close it makes little difference. I may be
one of the few friends that Edward has, but it's like being friends with a
tame leopard. It may curl on the foot of your bed and let you pet its head,