"Mercedes Lackey - Tregarde 2 - Burning Water" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

genuine asthmatic, had about as much chance of being drafted as a nun.
"You were sayingтАФ" Quasi prompted, shifting the box a little, and pointedly ignoring Mark's
snorts of laughter.
"My point is, what the hell are we doing having a seance?" Tim demanded, squinting almond eyes
at their host.
"One," Quasi replied amiably, "This is Halloween. It is traditional, as it were, and I am all in favor
of tradition. Two, I'm curious about that 'spell' I dug up. My anthro prof claims he's seen magic workтАФ
you know, stuff that had no rational explanation. The way I see it, if a magic spell ever works at all, I'm
betting it will work on Halloween. Three, I'm paying for the booze."
"And very good booze it is," Phil agreed, nodding so hard his glasses slid down his nose. "Well
worth a bit of cavorting and chanting."
"Okay," Tim replied, mollified. "That's a good reason."
"Hey, we're hereтАФ" Mark interrupted, hauling himself up the last few stairs and getting to the
door on the landing ahead of them all. "I want to get this over with."
He held the door open for the other three. Phil had been entrusted with the key to the apartment,
and skipped to the front of the group. The hallway was even dimmer than the staircase; Mark suspected
that the bulbs in the light fixtures were at best fifteen-watt refrigerator bulbs. It was probably just as well;
by the musty smell, nobody had cleaned the hall carpet for years. Mark was just as glad he didn't have to
look at it. It might be growing something.
Phil fumbled with the lock while the other three made rude comments, and finally got the scarred
and gouged door open. Quasi shouldered him aside impatiently; Mark trailed in behind his three friends.
Quasi had obviously been hard at work earlier today; his usual clutter of Salvation Army furniture
and books had been pushed up against the wall. The couch was shoved against the wall next to the door
they'd entered. It was absolutely covered with junk. The chairs and orange-crate tables were piled up
against each other on the back wall. The curtains were tightly closed and then pinned shut with enormous
safety pins.
It was, without a doubt, the cleanest this place had been in weeks.
Drawn on the anonymously brown rug in colored chalk was an intricate diagram. Placed at the
four corners of the design were rickety candlesticks apparently salvaged from a church; they stood as tall
as Mark's shoulder and held black candles as thick as his wrist. In the center of the diagram was a hibachi
stoked with instant-starting charcoal. Beside the hibachi was a sheet of newspaper with a neat arrangement
of little piles of unidentifiable flotsam on it.
The three invitees stared at the bizarre setup. Quasi set the box down on his cracked vinyl sofa and
took control of the situation.
"Okay, since you want to get this over with, let's move it. Phil, you go stand in the southтАФ"
"Right." He made a face. "Which way is south, Leatherstocking?"
 "Behind the candlestick in front of the record player." Quasi cast his eyes up toward the ceiling.
"Give me strength."
"If you're gonna raise a demon, you should be looking in the other direction," Tim pointed out.
"How many times do I have to tell you cretins? We're not raising a demon, we're trying to contact
a dead person. That's what this book saysтАФ" Quasi waved a thick paperback at them; the cover said
Voudoun Today. Mark squinted at the letters, which wavered in front of his eyes.
"Voo-doon? What's that?" Mark wanted to know.
"It's not 'voo-doon,' dummy, it's voodoo. Sheesh. You go stand to Phil's right."
"Over hereтАФ" Phil flapped his right hand helpfully. Tim took the other open position without
being directed.
"Shouldn't we be wearing robes or something?" Mark asked, looking.down at his jeans and
Grateful Dead T-shirt doubtfully. It didn't seem like the right outfit to be talking to a ghost inтАФeven if he
didn't believe it would work. WellтАФthe skull on the front was okay, but the outfit itself seemed kind ofтАФ
disrespectful.