"George R. R. Martin - WC 4 - Aces Abroad" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

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Wildcards IV: Aces AbroadAces Abroad
Book 4 of Wildcards
Edited by George R.R. Martin
ISBN: 0-553-27628-X


THE TINT OF HATRED
Stephen Leigh
Prologue
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1986, WASHINGTON, DC:
The Sony threw flickering light over Sara's Thanksgiving feast: a Swanson turkey
dinner steaming in foil on the coffee table. On the television screen a mob of
misshapen jokers marched through a sweltering New York summer afternoon, their
mouths moving in silent screams and curses. The grainy scene had the jerky look
of an old newsreel, and suddenly the picture swung about to show a handsome man
in his mid-thirties, his sleeves rolled up, his suit coat slung over a shoulder
and his tie loose on his neck-Senator Gregg Hartmann, as he had been in 1976.
Hartmann strode through the police lines blockading the jokers, shrugging away
the security men who tried to hold him, shouting at the police himself. Alone,
he stood between the authorities and the oncoming crowd of jokers, motioning
them back.
Then the camera panned toward a disturbance within the ranks of jokers. The
images were jumbled and out of focus: at the center was the ace/prostitute known
as Succubus, her body seemingly made of quicksilver flesh, her appearance
constantly shifting. The wild card had cursed her with sexual empathy. Succubus
could take on whatever shape and form most pleased her clients, but that ability
was now out of control. Around her, people responded to her power, grasping out
for her with a strange lust on their faces. Her mouth was open in an imploring
scream as the pursuing crowd, police and jokers both, bore her down. Her arms
were stretched out in supplication, and as the camera panned back, there was
Hartmann again, his jaw open in surprise as he gaped at Succubus. Her arms were
reaching for him, her plea was for him. Then she was gone under the mob. For
several seconds she was buried, lost. But then the crowd drew back in horror.
The camera followed Hartmann closer: he shoved through those around Succubus,
angrily pushed them away.
Sara reached for the VCR's remote switch. She touched the pause button, freezing
the scene, a moment of time that had shaped her life. She could feel the hot
tears streaking her face.
Succubus lay twisted in a pool of blood, her body mangled, her face turned
upward as Hartmann stared at her, mirroring Sara's horror.
Sara knew the face that Succubus, whoever she might have really been, had found
just before death. Those young features had haunted Sara since
childhood-Succubus had taken on Andrea Whitman's face.
Sara's older sister's face. Andrea who, at thirteen, had been brutally murdered
in 1950.
Sara knew who had kept that pubescent image of Andrea locked away in his mind
for so many years. She knew who had placed Andrea's features on the infinitely
malleable body of Succubus. She could imagine that face on Succubus as he lay