"Mckinley,.Robin.-.Sunshine" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKinley Robin)

Something like a grimace moved momentarily across his too-still face. УBo knows me well.Ф
УKnowsЕФ I said thoughtfully. УKnows that you wouldnТtЕright away. The bale of hay to keep the goat happy while the hunters in the trees wait for the tiger.Ф
УNot quite,Ф he said. УHumans can survive several days, perhaps a week, without food, I believe. But you wonТt remainЕattractive for that long.Ф
Attractive. I looked down at the cranberry-red dress. It had had a hard night. It was creased, and there was more than one smudge of dirt at the hem as well as the spots that wiping a teary face make, and my feet, sticking out from underneath, were scratched and filthy. I would have looked no less a lady in my T-shirt and jeans. I ate the bread in my hand, and then I broke off more, and ate that. It tasted no better than it looked, and while it had a funny aftertaste I assumed that was just flour improvers and phony flavoring garbage and nothing worse. It also might be my mouth, which tasted pretty funny anyway after the night IТd just had. I ate most of the first loaf. How long were these supplies supposed to last? I opened the bottle of water and drank a third of it. It was a standard two-quart plastic bottle of brand-name spring water and the ring-seal on the lid had been intact when I twisted it loose.
I looked at him again. His eyes were only half open, but still watching me. He was well in shadow but while he sat as unmoving as ever, he looked smaller now. Under siege.
I moved into the sunlight streaming through the window. Food and water had helped and the touch of the sun on my skin helped even more. I set the sack down again, with the rest of the bread in it, and sighed and stretched, as if I were getting out of bed on a Monday morning, the one morning a week I got up after the sun did. I felt tired butЕalive. I clung to this tiny moment of comparative peace because most of me knew it was false. I wondered how much worse the crash would be when the rest of me remembered, than if I hadnТt had it at all.
As I say, I am a light freak. My mom found this out the first year after we left my dad. SheТd got this ugly cheap dark little apartment in the basement of an old townhouseЧshe wouldnТt take any of my dadТs money so we were really poor at firstЧand I spent eight months crying and being sick all the time. She thought this was about losing my dad, and the doctors she took me to agreed with her because they couldnТt find anything wrong with me except listlessness and misery, but the minute she could afford it she got us into a better apartment, on the top floor of the house next door, with real windows. (This was when she started working for Charlie, and the minute he heard she had a sick kid he gave her a raise. He didnТt find out till later how young I was, and that she was leaving me home alone while she worked, and that the reason she tried for a job at the coffeehouse in the first place was because it was so close she could run home and check on me during her breaks.) It was winter, and she said I spent three weeks moving around the new place lying in every scrap of sunlight that came indoorsЧincluding moving a table and a heavy chest of drawers that were in my wayЧand by the end of that time I was well again. I donТt remember this, but I do remember that that eight months is the only time in my life IТve ever been sick.
I stood there in the sunlight feeling the life and warmth of it and holding off the crash.
I was still clutching the bottle of water. I looked at the vampire again. His eyes were shut, perhaps because I was standing in the light. There seemed to be a thin sheen of sweat on his skin. Did vampires sweat? It didnТt seem a very vampiry thing to do.
I stepped out of the sunlight, and his eyes half opened again. He didnТt look around for me; his eyes opened on where I was. I almost stepped back into the sunlight again, but I didnТt quite. I walked over to him, to within easy armТs reach. УYou havenТtЕkilled me yet because if you did, that would mean Bo had won.Ф
УYes,Ф he said. His voice, inflectionless as it was, sounded exhausted.
Pretending to myself I didnТt know what I was about to do, I held up the bottle of water. If vampires sweated, maybe they drank waterЕtoo. УWould you like some water?Ф
He opened his eyes the rest of the way. УWhy?Ф
Involuntarily I smiled. His turn for the intensive course in human mores. УI donТt like bullies.Ф This wasnТt quite the whole truth, but it was as much of the truth as I knew myself.
He made the cough-growl noise again. УYes,Ф he said.
I held out the bottle and he took it. He sat looking at it for a moment, looked at me again, then at the bottle. He unscrewed the plastic cap. All of this was happening at ordinary human speed, although all his movements had that creepy vampire fluency. But thenЕanother third of the water disappeared. I didnТt see him drink. I didnТt see his throat move with swallowing. But there was only one-third of the water left in the bottle, and he was screwing the cap back on. And he looked a little better. The mushrooms he was the color of hadnТt been in the back of the fridge quite so long, and they werenТt quite so wizened. УThank you,Ф he said.
I couldnТt quite bring myself to say, УYouТre welcome.Ф I moved far enough away again that while I was still mostly in the shade, the sun was touching my back, and sat down. The band of sun-warmth was a little like having a friendТs arm around me. УYou could have just taken it.Ф
УNo,Ф he said.
УWell. Ordered me to give you some.Ф
УNo,Ф he said.
I sighed. I felt irritated with this treacherous, villainous, mortally dangerous creature. The weight of irony might smash what remained of my mind into pieces before he did, in fact, kill me.
He said slowly, УI can take nothing from you. I can only accept what you offer. I can at mostЕask.Ф
УOh, please!Ф I said. УI can refuse to let you kill me! Vampires have never killed anyone who hasnТt said Сoh yes please I want to die, I want to die now, I want you to drink all my blood and whatever else it is that vampires do so that even my corpse is so horrible that after the police are done with it I will be burned instantly and the ashes sterilized before theyТre turned over to the next of kin!Т Ф I would never have said such a thing while it was dark. Daylight was my time. For a few more hours I could forget that the nightmare would come again too soon. I was tired, and half-crazy with what I had already been through, and at some level I didnТt care any more. I had seen the sun once moreЧit was a beautiful dayЧand if I was going to go out now, I was going to go out still me.
УIf you have the strength of will you can stop me or any vampire,Ф he said. Again the words came slowly, as they had when he had first spoken to me in the night. The curious thing was that he seemed to want to speak. HeТd also used the word vampire. Well, so had I. УThese signs,Ф and he gestured briefly at his ankle. УThey areЕeffective signs. They will do what they are made for. They willЧcontain. As Bo arranged for them to do here. They will also prevent inhuman harm to a human. But they can only do that if the human who bears the warding holds against the will of the one who stands against. Vampires are stronger than humans. Rarely can any hold out against our will. Why do you think you should not look in our eyes? We canЕpersuade you anyway. But looking into a vampireТs eyes is any humanТs doom.Ф
In horror I said: УThen they do ask you to kill them. They do beg you toЕФ
УYes,Ф he said.
I whispered: УThen, is itЕokay, at the very end? Do theyЕlike it, at the end?Ф
There was a long pause. УNo,Ф he said.
There was a longer pause. I jerked away from him, stood up, stood in the sunlight again. I pulled the bodice of the dress away from my body so the sun could pour down inside. I pushed my hair back so the light could touch all of my face, and then I turned round and pulled my hair up on the top of my head so that it could warm the back of my neck and shoulders. I was not going to cry again. I was not going to cry again. I could look at it as practical water conservation.
I looked at him as I stood in the sunlight. His eyes were closed. I stepped out of the sunlight, still watching him. His eyes half-opened as soon as I was in shadow. УHow long can you hold out?Ф I said sharply, my voice too loud. УHow long?Ф
Again his words were slow. УIt is not hunger that will break me,Ф he said. УIt is the daylight. The daylight is driving me mad. Some sunset soon I will no longer be myself.Ф His eyes flicked fully open, his face tipped back to stare at me. I averted my eyes, looked at the weal on his forearm. УI mayЕkill you then. I may kill myself. I donТt know. The history of vampires is a long one, but I do not know of anyone who has hadЕquite this experience.Ф
I sat down. I heard myself saying, УCan I do anything?Ф
УYou are doing it. You are talking to me.Ф
УIЕФ I said. УIТm not much of a talker. Our wait staff are the ones who know how to talk, and listen. IТm out back, most of the time, getting on with the baking.Ф Although several of our regulars hung around out back, if they felt like it. There was also a tiny patio area behind the coffeehouse that Charlie always meant to get done up so we could use it for more seating, but he never did, maybe partly because it had become a kind of private clubhouse for some of the regulars. When the fan wasnТt going but the bakery doors were open I listened to the conversations, and people came and leaned on the threshold so I could listen more easily. Pat and JesseТs more interesting stories got told out back.
УThe worst time is the hours around noon,Ф he said. УMy mind is full ofЕФ He paused. УMy mind feels as if it is disintegrating, as if the rays of your sun are prizing me apart.Ф
Silence fell again, and the sun rose higher.
УI donТt suppose youТd be interested in recipes,Ф I said, a little wildly. УMy bran and corn and oatmeal muffins are second only to cinnamon rolls in the numbers we sell. And then thereТs all the other stuff, lots more muffinsЧI can make spartan muffins out of anythingЧand tea bread and yeast bread and cookies and brownies and cakes and stuff. On Friday and Saturday I make pies. Even Charlie doesnТt know the secret of my apple pie. I suppose the secret would be safe with you.Ф Charlie didnТt know the secret of my Bitter Chocolate Death, either, but I didnТt feel like mentioning death in the present circumstances, even chocolate ones.
The vampireТs eyes were half open, watching me.
УI havenТt got much more life to tell you about. IТm not a deep thinker. I only just made it through high school. I was a rotten student. I hated learning stuff for tests only because someone told me I had to. The only thing I was ever any good at was literature and writing with Miss Yanovsky.Ф June Yanovsky had tangled with the school board because she chose to teach a section of classic vampire literature to her junior elective. She said that denying kids the opportunity to discuss Dracula and Carmilla and Immortal Death was in the same category of muddleheaded misguided protectiveness that left them to believe that they couldnТt get pregnant if they did it standing up with their shoes on. She won her case. УIТdСve dropped out if it wasnТt for her, and also Charlie really laid into me about how much my mom would hate it if I did. He was right, he usually is, especially about my mom. IТd been working at the coffeehouse since I was twelve, and I went straight from part time to full time after I graduated. IТve never done anything. The farthest IТve been from New Arcadia is the ocean a few times on vacation when the boys were little and the coffeehouse smaller and Charlie could still be dragged away occasionally. I like to read. My best girlfriend is a librarian. But I donТt have time to do much except work and sleep. Sometimes I feel like there ought to be somethingЕФ An image of my gran formed in my memory: an image from the last time I had seen her. I had never decided whether or not it was only hindsight that made me feel she had known I would not see her again, that she was going away. Superficially she had seemed as she always had. She had said good-bye as she always had. There was nothing different about that meeting except that it had been the last. УSometimes I feel like there should be something else, but I donТt know what it is.Ф Slowly I added, УThatТs why I drove out to the lake last night.Ф
I couldnТt let the silence after that linger. УYou could tell me about your life,Ф I said. УEr.Ф Life? What did you call it? УYourЕwhatever. You must have done lots of stuff besidesЕer.Ф
УNo,Ф he said.
That was clear enough. I looked over my shoulder. The sun was getting up there. I looked at him again. The old-mushroom color was very bad again, and there was definitely sweat on his skin. He looked like he was dying, or he would have if he was human. He only didnТt look like he was dying because he didnТt look human.
УYou could tell me a story,Ф he said. The words were almost gasps. Did vampires breathe?
УAЧwhat?Ф I said stupidly.
УA story,Ф he said. Pause. УYou haveЕlittle brothers. You told themЕstories?Ф
Scheherazade had it easy, I thought. All she was risking was a nice clean beheading from some human with a cleaver. And while her husband was off his rocker at least he was human. УOhЧumЧ yesЧI guess. But, you know, Puss in Boots. Paul Bunyan. Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel. The Knight in the Oak Tree. And they were always wanting stories about spacemen and laser guns. I read all of BurroughsТs Mars books and all of QuatermainТs Alpha Centauri books to give me ideas, except the women in my stories werenТt so hopeless. Nothing veryЧerЧriveting.Ф
УPuss in Boots,Ф he said.
УYeah. You know, fairy tales. ThatТs the one when the cat does all this clever stuff to help his master out, so his master winds up really important and wealthy and marries the princess, even though he was only the millerТs son.Ф
УFairy tales,Ф he said.
УYes.Ф I wanted to ask him if he hadnТt been a child once, that surely he remembered fairy tales. Surely every child got told fairy tales. Or if it had been that long ago that he couldnТt remember. Or maybe you forgot everything about being human once you were a vampire. Maybe you had to. In that case how did he know I wouldТve told my brothers stories? УThere are lots of them. Snow White. Cinderella. Sleeping Beauty. The Twelve Dancing Princesses. The Frog Prince. The Brave Little Tailor. Jack the Giant Killer. Tom Thumb. My brothers liked the ones best that had the least kissing in them. So they liked Puss in Boots and Jack the Giant Killer rather than Cinderella and Snow White, who they thought were all glang. I agreed with them actually.Ф