"Nick Pollotta - Bureau 13 - Judgment-Night" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pollotta Nick)

тАЬScram!тАЭ the illusion bellowed, and the bear did a splendid
impersonation of a hairy express train, plowing straight
through a clump of bushes in its haste to leave the vicinity.
Continuing onward, we encountered the main road, a
modern marvel of cracked concrete and really put the pedal
to the metal. Alongside the highway, the trees seemed
particularly thick, their gnarled branches almost appearing to
reach out towards us with malevolent intent. Hopefully, that
was just my imagination.
An hour later we passed the sign saying, тАЬPineville тАФ5
milesтАЭ and started to relax. Populated cities were pretty much
a safe zone. Nobody fought in the middle of downtown
anyplace. Too many bystanders with cameras, police with
guns, stupid dogs, traffic, eager-beaver vigilantes and a
thousand things that can turn a clockwork scheme into a total
fiasco. We know that for a fact, it was a perfect description of
our last mission.
Crossing the town line, Raul started scratching at his neck,
so I checked out the horizon with my glasses. Even at this
range, the reason he was itching was plainly apparent.
Overshadowing the normal aura of a small town was a
malignant cloud of pulsating ethereal vibrations. It almost
dripped with slime.
тАЬMagic up ahead,тАЭ I announced coolly. тАЬBig time and evil.тАЭ
Jessica cursed and George worked the bolt on his M60. To
everybody but us, the weapon appeared to be a banjo. The
effect was a permanent illusion that had taken Raul and
Richard working together a full week to accomplish. Sure
scared the hell out of airport security guards.
46
 Judgement Night: Bureau 13 Book 1
by Nick Pollotta


тАЬHow dark an aura?тАЭ Father Donaher asked, fumbling in
his coat pocket for shells.
тАЬPurple, with splotches of black.тАЭ
That was bad, sure enough, but nowhere near as vile as
the monstrosity we had vanquished at the lake. This was
starting to have the feel of a concentrated effort by somebody
seriously to eliminate us. Which wasn't an entirely bad thing.
Saved us the trouble of having to hunt down the monsters.
Also, definitely removed the question of whether they were
friendly or not.
If George had been driving, we would have charged
straight into town and announced our presence on a bullhorn.
But wisely Jessica was at the wheel, so instead we parked by
a bait'n'tackle store and proceeded on foot.
Pineville was laid out in square strips, the center of a town
a traffic circle and small park with the obligatory bronze