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

spot that had a sword sticking out of the middle of it. Mark stared at the blade with a slackened jaw; it had
buried itself into the floor for a depth of at least two inches. He couldn't imagine how the hell she had
tossed it that hard.
The girl was again standing between him and the spot where the thing had been, surveying the
wreckage with her feet slightly apart, and her hands on her hips. As he stared stupidly at her back, she
turned to face him.
She was not happy.
 "Well," she said at last. An angry frown marred her otherwise pretty face as she grabbed the hilt
without looking at it and wrenched the sword from the floor with an audible crack. "You sure blew my
study plans all to hell. I'm not too thrilled about having to drop everything to rescue an almost-damned
fool. What have you got to say for yourself?"
"UhтАФ" He swallowed hard. "Thanks?" She stared at him for another long moment, then began
laughing. So it was that Mark Valdez, criminology student, and Diana Tregarde, expert in the occult, first
met.
***
She never did let me off the hook for interrupting her midterm studying, either, Mark reflected
wryly. Recruited me for her ghost-hunting squad before you could say "poltergeist." LordтАФghosts, phony
mediums, the Celtic NightmareтАФhalf the time I thought I was making a mistake in letting her boss me
around like that, in letting her railroad me into her Spook Squad. I should be, I am, just as gladтАФnow.
She told me once that she always helps if anybody asksтАФthat she has toтАФand unless my instincts are all
wrong, we need her, and badly.
"Amerine Airways flight 185, service from Hartford, Connecticut, with continuing service to
Phoenix, now arriving gate 18 . . . ." The announcement broke into his recollections and brought him to
his feet, pushing forward with the rest of the modest crowd awaiting passengers from the plane.
He had to watch for her carefullyтАФeven after all these years he was still vaguely amazed at how
tiny she was. She'd certainly been impressive enough when she'd rescued him; she'd seemed ten feet tall,
no matter what her true physical size was. But for all that she loomed large in his memory, she scarcely
topped five feet, about the height of the average ballet dancer. She looked like a dancer, tooтАФor at least
she used toтАФ
He saw her finally; nearly the last one down the jetway. She had a pair of turquoise nylon carry-on
bags and a hefty purse slung over her shoulders, and was wearing an outfit that he remembered was almost
a uniform for her, a black leotard and jeans. She waved at him and eased her way gracefully toward him
through the throng of embracing relatives and friends.
She hadn't changed a bit; still wore her long, silken brown hair waist-length and unbound, still had
the same piquant, heart-shaped face with her high, prominent cheekbones and brown eyes so huge she
looked like one of those stupid velvet paintings of big-eyed kidsтАФand she still had her dancer's grace and
dancer's figure.
"Hello, love!" She dropped her carry-on bags, threw her arms around him, and gave him a very
thorough and shamelessly hearty kiss.
"You had me worried for about five minutes," he said, when he'd recovered from the inevitable
effect. "I realized I hadn't heard from you since you told me your flight number, and for one long moment
I wasn't entirely sure you were going to be on that plane."
"Oh ye of little faith," she chuckled, picking up her bags and indicating with a nod of her head that
he should lead the way. "I'm sorry; I was smack in the middle of a particularly tangled love triangle, and I
had to get it sorted out and in my publisher's hands before I left. I literally finished the damn thing at the
last minute. I did drop the FedEx package with the final in it at the pickup box at the airport. Good thing I
have an account with them, or I wouldn't have made it."
It was Mark's turn to chuckle. Diana took no compensation for her occult workтАФand being unable
to live on air, had a perfectly non-arcane way of paying the rent and grocery bills.
She was a writerтАФbut not of horror or even books about the occult, as might be thought.