"Murphy,.C.E.-.Walker.1.5.-.2005.-.BANSHEE.CRIES" - читать интересную книгу автора (Murphy C. E)

me completely of its own will, hand drifting to rub my sternum
through my winter jacket.

There was no hole in my breastbone, no scar to suggest thereТd
ever been one. But I found myself pulling in a very deep breath,
trying to rid myself of the memory of a silver blade shoved through
my lung and the bubbling, coppery taste of blood at the back of my
throat. IТd nearly died eleven weeks ago, and instead found that
buried within me was the power to heal myself, and maybe a great
deal more. More than one person had called me a shaman since
then. I didnТt like it at all.

УIТm not any good at this, Morrison. I donТt know if I can do it on
purpose.Ф My voice was strained and thin, full of reluctance.
Morrison didnТt say anything. Once upon a timeЧnot that long
agoЧthe only thing he and I had had in common was a complete
disdain for the paranormal and people who believed there were
things that went bump in the night. IТd been struggling for the past
three months to get back to that place. Back to a world that made
sense, where I didnТt feel a coil of bright power burbling in the core
of me, waiting to be used. I desperately wanted to believe it had
been some kind of peculiar dream. Most days I was able to cling to
that.

Morrison was not helping me cling. I could feel the tension in him,
not with any extrasensory perception, but with how still he was
holding himself, and the deliberate steadiness of his breathing. He
wasnТt any happier than I was about asking, which perversely made
me willing to play ball. I put my teeth together, muttering, УOnly you
could get me to do this.Ф

That struck me as being alarmingly accurate. I found myself
abruptly eager to do it, so I didnТt have to think about what IТd just
said.

Unfortunately, I was at a complete loss as to how to proceed. IТd
pulled denial over my head like a blanket the past several weeks.
Now that someone was asking me to use my impossible new gifts,
I didnТt know where to start.

Just thinking about it made the power inside me flutter like a new
life, full of hope and possibility. I swallowed against nausea that
was as unpleasantly familiar as the idea of life inside me, and
tentatively reached for the bubble of power.

A spirit guide called Coyote had suggested to me I work through
the medium I knew best: cars. In reaching for that bubble of
energy, I tried to do that. Morrison wanted me to see. Well, if I
wasnТt seeing clearly, then the windshields needed washing.