"Melanie Rawn - Spellbinder" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rawn Melanie)

"They're late," said another man, who entered the room shrugging out of a suit
jacket. For all its expensive tailoring, the -wool was rumpled and a button was
coming loose. He reached for the black robe that hung with two remaining others on
a wooden garment rack, saying, "What's that dreadful smell?"
"I'm afraid it's me, Elias," said a young African-American man wearing a dark
maroon cassock. "Kate's got me reeking of gardenias, of all things."
"Martin!" The woman by the fire glanced up, brows arching mildly. "If you can't
experiment on your friends, who can you experiment on? I'm thinking of marketing it
under the name 'Victorian Whorehouse.'"
"It'll be interesting, when Ian gets here stinking of garlic as usual," commented the
old man in green.
Kate grinned. " 'Italian Victorian Whorehouse,'" she amended.
Slipping into his black robe, Elias gave in to amusementтАФbut only for a
momentтАФby saying, " 'Gay Italian Victorian Whorehouse.'"
"Now, there's a concept." The old man shook his head as Elias began to pace.
"Stop fretting, Eli. Lulah tells me that Holly's always late, and we all know that Ian's
almost as bad."
"As Simon says," came a new voice from the doorway, breezy and warm, like a
golden summery day. "I just love arriving in time to hear my character impugned."
"Just stating the facts, son."
Ian went to the garment rack and pulled his red robe from its hangar. Martin helped
him on with it, making a face when Ian sniffed ostentatiously. "Not a word," Martin
warned.
"If you think you're going to foul the hot tub trying to wash that offтАФKate, what in
the world were you thinking?"
"PurityтАФof action and purpose, at any rate," she retorted. "The rest of him I leave
to you."
"You smell fairly disgusting, yourself," Martin told his lover.
Ian winced. "Denise had this lurid little candle goingтАФa seated Goat all oiled up with
this incredible stink. Nothing subtle about our Southern cousins тАФ no offense,
Holly."
"None taken, y'all," replied the tall, freckled redhead who was the final entrant into
the room. She nodded her thanks to Elias for his help in donning her robe:
silvery-gray and smelling of rosemary. Her moonstone ring glowed subtly in the
candlelight.
"Any trouble?" Elias asked quietly.
"None. Ian's good. I'm sorry to be so late тАФ she didn't get home until three."
"And she's not at all happy," Ian contributed. "Marty, what happened to my
candle?"
"Right where you left it, along with your ratty old wand. One of these days we're
going to have to cut you a new one." His partner opened an ancient brass-studded
leather chest and gathered a few things to distribute among the group.
As the others readied themselves, Elias stayed beside Holly. He didn't wish to be too
obvious about it, but checking was necessary and he knew that she knew it. She was
still a novice at all this, at least where hut workings were concerned. What she had or
had not done while in California or Virginia or Washington, D.C., was of little
interest to him except for any annoying habits she may have picked up. Nothing
serious had arisen so far, but this was only their third Working together.
So he made his inventory. Silvery robe for stability; rosemary for purification, clarity
of thought, and, of course, remembrance; a willow wand for healing; a white candle