"Barbara Karmazin - Blackbird 2 - Out of the Dark" - читать интересную книгу автора (Karmazin Barbara)

open and willing to love and give love in return. Would he ever feel the salt of a kiss upon his mouth and
know the sweet agony of his lover's climax searing through his mind and body?

A trio of miniature Nubian goats stuck their heads past the half opened door on the other side of the
room, then scampered inside and curled up on the floor by his feet. The smallest one butted her head
against the soft leather of his boots.

The goats might miss him. The small garden and water fountain at the farthest end of the series of rooms
carved out of the blue clay cavern would sustain them until they died of old age.

Rachel would miss him. She was his only friend. Fifteen years ago when she retired from her job as a
private investigator, she'd helped him liberate the parents of these goats from a hidden military base.

After he brought them here, the first thing he did was take the few surgical instruments he owned and
remove the male goat's scent glands. Washing them twice a month with scented shampoo also kept their
odor to a bearable level within the confines of his underground home.

The results of that foray had given him another reliable income source. Milk from one goat produced as
much silk as ten thousand spiders. Five times stronger than Kevlar, ten times stronger than steel,
spidersilk was a highly prized commodity.

Rachel was human. Another twenty or thirty years from now, she would die. Human lifespans were so
briefтАФunlike the normal Sidhe lifespan of over three centuries. Human bodies aged so rapidly. Even
now, Rachel looked like his mother despite the fact that he was older. And after she died, then what
remained for him? Another two centuries of loneliness?

Mider stood. If he busied himself making more spidersilk clothing, his melancholy should retreat. Rachel
was his friend. He did not want to cause her sorrow or force her to mourn him during the brief years that
remained for her. When she died, then that would be the proper time to end his life. He went to the heavy
wooden door of the adjoining chamber and pulled it open.

Blue clay walls and ceiling soared above his head. Tiny florescent lights embedded in the walls lit the
room. A black cauldron simmered on a hot plate. A remote viewing sofscreen hung on a hook on the
wall opposite the hot plate and cauldron.

The soft chiming sound of the security perimeter alarm broke the silence. That alarm signaled the
approach of another within his section of the tunnel system. Mider frowned. Rachel wasn't supposed to
arrive for another six hours. Her visits were like clockwork. If she'd planned to change the time of her
visit, she would have left him a note at their pre-arranged message drop in the sub-basement of the
Chicago Tribune building, or sent him an email. He went to the sofscreen on the wall and turned on the
corridor spy cam.

The screen's image showed Rachel riding down the coal chute entrance. She leaned against an ancient
metal shopping cart piled to overflowing with scraps of cardboard and rags. Her gaze darted from side to
side as if she expected pursuit. Mider leaned closer to the screen andreached for her mind with his.

Fear and worry were the strongest elements of her emotional aura. Rachel fussed and pulled at her cart
as if it contained a precious object d'art instead of trash, keeping it steady until she exited the chute. She
would be at his door in a few moments.