"Karen Koehler - Slayer--Black Miracles" - читать интересную книгу автора (Koehler Karen)

Well thatтАЩs not fair at all!Debra said.

No, not at all, Alek agreed as he felt his--their--blood boil. The first bullet whistled past his shoulder.
The secondpinked! off the blade of his sword. He kept making his way toward Samson.

Samson looked frightened. He squeezed off two more rounds. Alek slipped in-between the two bullets

Two bullets left.

Two feet left.

Samson made a valiant attempt to aim for AlekтАЩs head.

Alek bit down on the blade of his sword and leaped, easily clearing the last two bullets and gripping the
low-hanging branches of the oak overhead like an athleteтАЩs training bar. His legs came up automatically,
hooking around the biggest limb of the tree so his hands were free to handle the sword. And there he
hung, looking at a petrified and very upside down Samson like a great winged bat hanging from its perch.

тАЬPenalty,тАЭ Alek said in the last moment before he took SamsonтАЩs head.




5


He wondered if he would make it home in time for Jay Leno. Considering all things, the thought seemed
somehow ridiculous, yet it was thinking like that that kept him sane throughout all the bloodshed.

Near Fifth Avenue Alek stopped to make certain none of SamsonтАЩs blood remained on any noticeable
part of himself. His hair, which had been bound into a tight braid for his supposedly quiet evening out,
had come undone but had otherwise been spared. His face was likewise clean. His coat was never
dirtied by bloodshed for very long; instead it seemed to somehowabsorb any blood that touched it. The
fact that it did so might have made him nervous, except he was used to dealing with things that
were...well, less than normal.

He had almost made it to the curb where he hoped he would be able to hail another cab when he heard
the cries for the first time. They were distant. Another human being would not have been aware of them
at all, especially this close to the neverending roar of the busiest avenue inNew York , but he was wired
from the fight. He stopped to tilt his head and listen to them. Coming from three blocks away, in one of
the back alley niches no sane person had any business crawling around in. Probably some punk trying to
feed the monkey by working over a drunk.

No...not a drunk. It was a female in trouble. Probably a working girl in a lousy situation.

He glanced around the Avenue, but as always, never a cop when you needed one.

ItтАЩs not my problem, he reasoned. ItтАЩs been a long night already.

A cab pulled to the curb. He couldnтАЩt believe his luck.