"Elizabeth Hand - Last Summer on Mars Hill" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hand Elizabeth)

irrupting
into the dawn), and leave.

But They never did. Year after year the Light Children remained. They were a
magical commonplace, like the loons that nested on a nearby pond and made the
night an offertory with their cries, or the rainbows that inexplicably
appeared
over the Bay almost daily, even when there was no rain in sight. It was the
same
with Them. Jason would be walking down to call his father in from sailing, or
knocking at Moony's window to awaken her for a three A.M. stroll, and suddenly
there They'd be. A trick of the light, like a sundog or the aurora borealis:
golden patches swimming through the cool air. They appeared as suddenly as a
cormorant's head slicing up through the water, lingering sometimes for ten
minutes or so. Then They would be gone.

Jason saw Them a lot. The chapel was one of the places They seemed to like,
and
so he hung out there whenever he could. Sometimes he could sense Them moments
before They appeared. A shivering in the air would make the tips of his
fingers
go numb, and once there had been a wonderful smell, like warm buttered bread.
But usually there was no warning. If he closed his eyes while looking at Them,
Their image still appeared on the cloudy scrim of his inner eye, like gilded
tears. But that was all. No voices, no scent of rose petals, no rapping at the
door. You felt better after seeing Them, the way you felt better after seeing
a
rainbow or an eagle above the Bay. But there was nothing really magical about
Them, except the fact that They existed at all. They never spoke, or did
anything special, at least nothing you could sense. They were just there; but
Their presence meant everything at Mars Hill.

They were there now: flickering above the altar, sending blots of gold dancing
across the limp flowers and faded photograph. He wanted to point Them out to
Moony, but he'd tried before and she'd gotten mad at him.
"You think I'm some kind of idiot like my mother? she'd stormed, sweeping that
day's offering of irises from the altar onto the floor. "Give me a break,
Jason!"

Okay, I gave you a break, he thought now. Now I'll give you another.

Look, Moony, there They are! he thought; then said, "Moony. Look --"

He pointed, shrugging his shoulder so she'd have to move. But already They
were
gone.

"What?" Moony murmured. He shook his head, sighing.

"That picture," he said, and fumbled at his pocket for his cigarettes. "That