"Child Of The Stones" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mcauley Paul J)

УYou know of it?Ф

УItТs been lying low in the Hackney Marshes ever since IТve been running this place, Mr C, but recently itТs been growing bolder, if you know what I mean. Change is in the air, isnТt it? Yours isnТt the only old face IТve seen recently,Ф she added in a more confidential tone, nodding towards the man in the grey suit as he threw down some coins and left. УForeigner, he is, but IТve a feeling I know him from way back when.Ф

I watched him walk away down the little alley. He was unfamiliar, but I could not help wondering if he had anything to do with the two men in the red Jaguar.

УHeТs been coming in about this time for the past week,Ф Rose said. УSits in the corner, drinks his coffee, doesnТt say a word to a soul.Ф She smiled at Miranda, who was staring at the taxi driver. УAnd what will you be having, dear? A Coke, perhaps. A little sugar does you good after youТve had a shock. Much better than coffee or alcohol. YouТre lucky you fell in with Mr C. He looks a little odd, I know, what with that black suit of his, and his bow tie and his hat and his cane, but heТs the best of us.Ф

I took off my Homburg and executed a small bow. УWhy, thank you, Rose.Ф

УPish-posh, Mr C, I wouldnТt say it if it wasnТt true. ThatТs why IТm pleased to see you out and about again.Ф

While Miranda sucked on the straw stuck in her can of Coca-Cola, I squeezed brown sauce from the plastic bottle into my bacon sandwich, stirred three spoonfuls of brown sugar into my tea, and added a dash of brandy from my flask. I asked her about the imp she had made into her familiar, where she had found it and how she had mastered it, but she shrugged off my questions, and took out a crushed pack of cigarettes and lit one. The left side of her face was reddened, beginning to swell from the blow sheТd received. She blew out smoke and said, УYou think youТre a character, donТt you? What with your fancy words and your funny clothes.Ф

УSomething happened just now, on the canal bridge. Something attacked you.Ф

УIf that bloke tries it on again,Ф Miranda said with sudden cold ferocity, УIТll cut off his dick. I swear I will.Ф

УYou know quite well that I do not mean LizТs boyfriend. Did you see it, Miranda, when it took your familiar?Ф

УDonТt know what youТre talking about,Ф Miranda said, but the hand holding her cigarette was shaking. I saw thin white lines on the skin inside her wrist. I saw oval white scars.

УYou can see imps, and you can make them obey you. Your familiar was one such. You found it and trained it to do your bidding. That attachment grew a kind of leash or umbilicus between you and your pet, and it nearly caused your downfall. The revenant that ate your familiar swallowed the umbilicus too, and for that reason you were briefly attached to it. You may not have seen it, Miranda, but I know that you must have felt its hunger.Ф

The girl shrugged, and would not meet my gaze.

УYou tried to use the imp you had captured and trained against the man. He wouldnТt be able to see it, but it would have scared him away. I believe that you wanted to do it for a good reason. You wanted to help the girl. Is that how you always use the imps you make into your familiars?Ф

Miranda drew so hard on her cigarette that its tip crackled, and gave me a flat, challenging stare. She said, УWhat do they look like to you?Ф

УThey are mostly black, and most of them are no bigger than insects. They are spawned by discharge of violent emotion, or by delirium induced by drink or drugs. The one you had tamed was exceptionally large.Ф

УThereТs a bloke that lives near me. He drinks a lot, and heТs always angry at something or other. His flat is full of Сem. Law courts are good places too. Lots of fear and anger there. I get Сem to follow me, feed Сem up, get Сem to do what I want. It ainТt so different from training a dog.Ф Miranda drew on her cigarette again. УI suppose youТre gonna give me grief about it.Ф

УThere are worse things in the world than imps,Ф I said. УYou met one of them just now.Ф

УI see all kinds of things. People who arenТt really there. Dead people. Ghosts. ThereТs one over there, reading a newspaper. HeТs one of the harmless ones. I try to make them do stuff too, but they donТt listen. How about you? Can you make them do what you want?Ф

УYou have a rare gift, Miranda, and it frightens you. It makes you feel that you are different - that there is something wrong with you. You punish yourself because of it. You cut your flesh with razor blades. You stub cigarettes out on your skin. You punish your body because you believe that it is betraying you. I understand, because I have that gift too. I see the things that you seeЧФ

УYou donТt understand nothing,Ф Miranda said. She crushed out her cigarette on the tableТs scarred red Formica and stood up. Her can of Coca-Cola fell over, spilling a fizzing slick. УI donТt know what your game is, but I want you to leave me alone. All right?Ф

I was surprised to discover that I felt disappointed by her rejection. As she turned away, I said, УIf you want to talk to me again, come here and ask about Mr Carlyle. Will you do that?Ф

She kicked the door open, and walked straight out.

Behind the counter, Rose looked at me and shook her head slightly, but whether in amusement, sympathy, or disapproval it was impossible to tell.
* * * *
Ever since my parents died and I quit Edinburgh for London, I have spent most of my life alone, and for most of that time I have lived in a tall, narrow Georgian house in Spitalfields, at the edge of the City of London. It is a quiet, comfortably shabby place. The only modern improvements are the gas lighting and the gas geyser that, when lit, with much volcanic rumbling spits a miserly stream of hot water into the bath. The few ghosts that inhabit the house are harmless; they, and the mice in the walls, are my only company. I make sure that every threshold is well protected, and I do not advertise for clients. Anyone in need of my services must find their own way to me.