"Christopher Moore - Bloodsucking Fiends" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moore Christopher)

"That will be quite enough of that," the Emperor com-manded, puffing himself up and tucking his
thumbs under the lapels of his worn overcoat.
The vampire brushed a bit of rotted lettuce from his black shirt and grinned. "I'll let you live," he
said, his voice like a file on ancient rusted metal. "That's your punishment."
 The Emperor's eyes went wide with terror, but he held his ground. The vampire laughed, then
turned and walked away.
The Emperor felt a chill run up his neck as the vampire disap-peared into the fog. He hung his
head and thought, Not this. My city is dying of poison and plague and now this -- this creature -- stalks
the streets. The responsibility is suffocating. Emperor or not, I am only a man. I am weak as water: an
entire empire to save and right now I would sell my soul for a bucket of the Colonel's crispy-fried
chicken. Ah, but I must be strong for the troops. It could be worse, I suppose. I could be the Emperor of
Oakland.
"Chins up, boys," the Emperor said to his hounds. "If we are to battle this monster, we will need
our strength. There is a bak-ery in North Beach that will presently be dumping the day-old. Let's be off."
He shuffled away thinking, Nero fiddled while his empire went to ashes; I shall eat leathery pastries.

As the Emperor trudged up California Street, trying to balance the impotence of power with the
promise of a powdered-sugar doughnut, Jody was leaving the Pyramid. She was twenty-six and pretty in
a way that made men want to tuck her into flannel sheets and kiss her on the forehead before leaving the
room; cute but not beautiful.
As she passed under the Pyramid's massive concrete buttresses she caught herself limping from a
panty-hose injury. It didn't hurt, exactly, the run that striped the back of her leg from heel to knee, the
result of a surly metal file drawer (Claims, X-Y-Z) that had leaped out and snagged her ankle; but she
was limping nonetheless, from the psychological damage. She thought, My closet is starting to look like
an ostrich hatchery. I've either got to start throwing out L'eggs eggs or get a tan on my legs and quit
wearing nylons.
She'd never had a tan, couldn't get one, really. She was a milk-white, green-eyed redhead who
burned and freckled with sun.
When she was half a block from her bus stop, the wind-driven fog won and Jody experienced
total hair-spray failure. Neat waist-length waves frizzed to a wild red cape of curl and tangle. Great, she
thought, once again I'll get home looking like Death eating a cracker. Kurt will be so pleased.
She pulled her jacket closer around her shoulders against the chill, tucked her briefcase under her
breasts like a schoolgirl car-rying books, and limped on. Ahead of her on the sidewalk she saw someone
standing by the glass door of a brokerage office. Green light from the CRTs inside silhouetted him in the
fog. She thought about crossing the street to avoid him, but she'd have to cross back again in a few feet
to catch her bus.
She thought, I'm done working late. It's not worth it. No eye contact, that's the plan.
As she passed the man, she looked down at her running shoes (her heels were in her briefcase).
That's it. Just a couple more steps. . .
A hand caught in her hair and jerked her off her feet, her brief-case went skittering across the
sidewalk and she started to scream. Another hand clamped over her mouth and she was dragged off the
street into an alley. She kicked and flailed, but he was too strong, immovable. The smell of rotten meat
filled her nostrils and she gagged even while trying to scream. Her attacker spun her around and yanked
on her hair, pulling her head back until she thought her neck would snap. Then she felt a sharp pain on the
side of her throat and the strength to fight seemed to evap-orate.
Across the alley she could see a soda can and an old Wall Street Journal, a wad of bubble gum
stuck to the bricks, a "No Parking" sign: details, strangely slowed down and significant. Her vision began
to tunnel dark, like an iris closing, and she thought, These will be the last things I see. The voice in her
head was calm, re-solved.
As everything went dark, her attacker slapped her across the face and she opened her eyes and