"Lackey, Mercedes - Born To Run" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

УAll right,Ф he said to Thoreau, as the dog padded into the study, licking his chops with satisfaction. УMaybe it is a dream. Maybe there are fairy checks as well as fairy gold. But it's here now.Ф He planted the envelope under his favorite paperweight, a bronze replica of the Space Shuttle Challenger. УIf it's gone in the morning, I'll know it was a dream. But for now, all we can do is try. Eh, Thoreau?Ф
Thoreau wagged his stub of a tail in agreement, and put his head down on his paws as Sam got up and began pulling books and bound magazines down off the shelf. He'd seen this before. He knew it was going to be a long night.

CHAPTER FOUR
The Mustang purred happily as Tannim drove into Sam's driveway. There were times, especially lately, when Tannim wondered if maybe he hadn't instilled a little too much magic into the car. Or maybe he'd planted something else besides pure Power. Lately it had seemed as if the Machа1 was almostЧsentient. It certainly seemed to approve of Sam Kelly; there was a warmth to the engine's purr that hadn't been there before he turned into the drive, and the car had embraced Sam as if he belonged inside it.
Well, for that matter, Tannim approved of Sam Kelly. He was a smart, tough old bird, and too good to waste on retirement. Now, as long as he and Keighvin hadn't gotten the old man into more danger than any of them could handle.а.а.а. His conscience bothered him a bit over that. Sam had brains and savvy, but what if he needed that and a younger man's reflexes as well?
He was taking Sam to dinner, after a couple of drinks at Kevin Barry's Pub in Savannah, on River Street. There were several Irish pubs in the area, but Kevin Barry's was the one Tannim preferred. He had the feeling that Sam would feel more at home, easier, in an atmosphere that reminded him of Ireland and all it meant.
He'd chosen a dinner meeting rather than a return to Fairgrove for a very good reason; he wanted Sam's first dose of Keighvin Silverhair to wear off before they talked again. Keighvin's formidable personality had been known to overwhelm far stronger personalities than Sam's, even without a glamorie at work.
Not that Keighvin would have used a glamorie on Sam Kelly. They wanted a willing ally, with all his faculties in working order, not a bemused dreamer.
Tannim wasn't entirely certain how old Keighvin was; certainly at least a thousand. That much living produced personalities that could easily bowl the unsuspecting over. If Sam was having second thoughts, Tannim wanted to know about it without Keighvin around to influence him.
The pub itself, however, was a good place to talk to Sam. The atmosphere, so strongly Celtic, should put Sam in the state of mind to remember and Believe, even though he was going to be completely in the Уreal world.Ф
And there was no more Уreal worldФ a clientele than the bunch that frequented Kevin Barry's. Students from SCAD, business people, locals, artists, holdover hippies, folkiesЧyou name it, and you would probably see it in Kevin Barry's. Except maybe yuppies; the place wasn't trendy enough for them.
Not enough ferns, or drinks with clever names and inflated prices. And no selection of forty-five mineral waters.
Sam must have been watching for him, for he was locking up even as Tannim arrived. He opened the passenger's side door and slid in beside Tannim as soon as the Machа1 came to a full stop. He was amazingly fit for a sixty-five-year-old man; he looked as if he'd been getting lots of regular exercise and watching his dietЧhis build was a lot like Jacques Cousteau's, in fact, who at sixty-five had still been leading his own underwater expeditions. Maybe Tannim didn't need to worry quite so much about him after all.
УAm I in for any more impromptu racing today?Ф Sam asked, with a twinkle, as Tannim pulled out again. And there was no doubt of it; the Mustang was truly purring with satisfaction, a note in its engine he'd never heard before. The Machа1 liked Sam.
Too bad I can't ever find a lover it likes that much, he thought ironically. Of course, if I do, she'll probably like the car better than me. I can see it nowЧmy girl and my car, taking off into the sunset without me.
УNo, no racing today,Ф he said, with a chuckle. УI'm taking you into Savannah. I had the feeling you probably haven't been downtown in a while.Ф
Sam nodded. УNot for years,Ф he admitted. УNever had a reason to. And to tell you the truth, I spent most of my time at Gulfstream. There wasn't much of anything I wanted to go downtown for.Ф
УI may be able to change your mind,Ф Tannim replied. УSo, how are you feeling about our offer in the cold light of day?Ф
УWellЧthe check didn't disappear, or turn into a handful of leaves when morning arrived,Ф Sam replied after a moment. УAnd my bank was perfectly happy to have it. I wasn't entirely sure it would still be there when I woke up this morning, and that's a fact. I was half convinced I must have dreamed the whole thing. Especially that car-horse-car.Ф
УI don't blame you.Ф Tannim chuckled, watching Sam out of the corner of his eye. УI know how I felt the first time I saw anyone working real magic.Ф
There. The word was out in the open. Sam hadn't flinched from it, either.
УMagic,Ф the old man mused. УThe Sidhe, and magic. Maybe I've come into my second childhood, butЧI think I could come to appreciate all this.Ф He tilted his head to the side. УSo, what happened the first time you saw magic at work?Ф
Tannim laughed. УI freaked. For the first few minutes, I thought someone had slipped me recreational pharmaceuticals without my noticing. Then, once I figured out that everything I saw was real, I just hoped that whoever was duking it out didn't notice me. I wasЧoh, sixteen or soЧand I kind of got caught on the sidelines of a magic duel.Ф He waited to see the effect of that revelation on Sam.
УFair Folk?Ф Sam asked after a moment. УA duel between elves?Ф
Tannim shook his head. УNo. A witch and a sorceress. The witch was the good guyЧor rather, gal. I didn't know who the bad guy was, or that it was a female at the time. I was just glad the witch had a good sense of ethics and was trying to keep the mayhem to a minimum where the audience was concerned.Ф
УA witch and a sorceress? Aren't they the same thing?Ф Sam asked, in a genuinely puzzled tone.
Again, Tannim shook his head. УTrust me, there's a difference between the two. The reason it was dangerous was because although the witch was being careful about innocent bystanders, the sorceress wasn't. And, like I said, in this case, the witch was the good guy. There's a lot of parallels between the Seleighe and Unseleighe Courts there.Ф
Sam nodded thoughtfully, but made no further comments for a moment. By that time, they had reached Savannah proper, and the infamous brick-work streets. Quaint and picturesque, but hell to drive on.
They got a bit of relief at a stoplight. Tannim's leg ached distantly, from hip to ankle. УI keep forgetting about these damn streets,Ф he remarked to Sam, who nodded.
УI remember now,Ф Sam responded. УThis was one of the reasons I avoided coming downtown. There wasn't anything down here that was worth having to drive this, and the cobblestones are worse.Ф
Tannim sighed. УI guess it's because I like River Street so much I sort of forget what it takes to get there. I'm sure the tourists like thisЧbut I swear, I know I'm going to have to put the car up and do an alignment when I get home.
УIt's the tight suspension, I'd wager,Ф Sam said through clenched teeth. УMakes you wish you had a Lincoln or a Caddy.Ф
Tannim laughed. УMaybe I'll remember this next time I come here, and rent one!Ф
The Mustang coughed as though its carburetor had stuck, then settled once Tannim patted the dash.

Some things never change, Sam thought, as he watched a trio of black-clad art students walk by in the shade of the old, Spanish-moss-bedecked oaks. There seemed to be an unwritten rule that young artists had to wear black and act morose at least twelve hours out of every day. He'd seen that sort of thing, in a different way, with the Gulfstream engineers, who thought that if they wore blue cotton shirts, club ties, and Cross pens, they would be taken for Brain Trust. Sam had never been able to take that kind of thing seriously after watching a PBS documentary about mimicry in moths.
The art students were a constant source of amusement and amazement for the locals, but the kids always meant well. It tickled Sam that their school was slowly buying out the entire downtown, building by building. УAre those ninjas, or performance artists?Ф Tannim chuckled, nodding at a duo in black gis and black, absurdly baggy pants, like rappers wore on MTV. They lounged beneath a wrought-iron balcony that was old when their great-grandparents were their age. They reminded Tannim of similar sights in New Orleans, and the mix of cultures and ambience there.
УPoster kids for mousse abuse,Ф Sam replied solemnly. УNinjas would have better taste.Ф
УGeez, you could hide aircraft in those pants,Ф Tannim commented, after a second look. УBetter keep them away from Gulfstream, Sam. Some of your planes might mistake them for hangars.Ф
A blue-haired old lady under the trees of one of the dozens of tiny park squares nagged at her husband as the balding man focused his camera on a building across the street. УWait until the kids are in the picture, George,Ф she shrilled. УI want a picture with art kids in it. This is where the art school is, I want art kids in the picture.Ф
The old man just grunted and made minute adjustments of the focus. The art students just ignored it all and continued drifting along in front of the boutique windows, expressions of studied angst decorating their young faces.
УMaybe he can't hear her,Ф Tannim suggested. УHis shorts are drowning her out.Ф Indeed, the man was wearing possibly the most obscene pair of Bermudas Sam had ever experienced; an appalling print in cerise and chartreuse. He and his wife were completely unaware of the team of video students behind themЧtaping every move they made. Sam nearly died, choking down laughter.
They found themselves creeping along at five miles an hour, stuck behind one of the horse-drawn sightseers carriages. Tannim put up with it for a little, but finally muttered something under his breath and turned off their street at the next light, leaving the coveys of tourists and micro-herds of art students behind. After about a mile, Sam noticed they had left the glass-front boutiques and hole-in-the-wall shops behind as well. The buildings were neglected, now; paint cracked and peeling, windows broken and patched with tape and cardboard, yards full of weeds. The cars here were in the same shape as the houses. There weren't many businesses; what few there were had grates over the windows and rusted bars on the doors.
Sam would not have wanted to break down here, and now he recalled another reason for not visiting downtown. River Street was flanked by two bad neighborhoods. Even in daylight, Sam would not have wanted to be alone out here. The sullen expressions of the toughs lounging on the corners were not feigned or practiced, and their cold, dead eyes gave Sam the chills. He kept his eyes on the dashboard, and Tannim was uncharacteristically silent.
Finally the young man broke the silence. УThis neighborhood's economy isn't depressed,Ф he said grimly, Уit's suicidal.Ф
They turned another corner and drove for about half a mile, with the buildings slowly improving again. Finally they turned onto River Street itself, and as they hit the cobblestones and the punishment really began, Sam felt able to take his eyes off the dashboard. That was when he found that the dubious sorts weren't limited to the bad neighborhoods, either; there was a cluster of kids in front of a shop with a Уfor rentФ sign in the window, and from the look of them, they were exchanging money for drugs. Sam watched the loitering toughs out of the comer of his eye, and remembered that this was yet another reason why he had avoided the downtown area in general. He certainly wouldn't want to come here alone at night, and maybe not even with someone. He knew he was tougher than he lookedЧyes, and a lot sprier than he let onЧbut he was no match for a street-gang.
And he was smart enough to know it.
A cop car rumbled down one of the cobblestone ramps from the street above River, and the gang evaporated, vanishing into the covered alleyways behind the River Street stores.
Well, maybe it wouldn't be so dangerous. The cops were certainly a presence. And then, again, there were a number of Irish pubs around here, and a lot of Irish on the street as wellЧthe ones without the bags and cameras and look of tourists. If he did happen to find himself in trouble, it could be there'd be more help here than he first reckoned.