"Laura Resnick - Enter the Night" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Laura)

long-ago Spanish prince? -- which she drew through the shining waves of her
hair again and again in a rhythm as hypnotic as that of her song. Her skin was
as pearl-white as the inside of a perfect coconut; her body was soft and
shapely and graceful beyond any dream of womanhood. I gazed at her in mute
adoration and fell hopelessly, helplessly in love. And the fiery gleam in her
amber eyes told me she knew it.
"Beware the Ixtabay," my grandfather had said so many times in my
childhood. "Beware that dainty demon!"
_But he could not have known_, I thought, staring thunderstruck at her
loveliness. _How could he have possibly known?_ There could be no evil, no
danger in such perfect beauty.
"She hypnotizes onlookers, who follow her into the bush and go insane,"
Grandfather always said, and I wondered why my father had been so foolhardy.
But now I knew, yes, now I understood why my father had followed her.
There could be no other choice. The warm promise of her smile, the graceful
poetry of her gestures, the lilting sigh of her song, and the mysterious glow
in her eyes all offered a gift greater and more powerful than any lingering
fear of danger.
As in legend, she descended from her tree and walked above the surface
of the ground, each small, pale foot stepping lightly on the misty air as she
led me deeper into the bush. So entranced was I that I let my torch drop from
my hand. It fell upon the damp earth, sizzled, and died. I hesitated for only
a moment, then I saw the gleaming curve of her arm in the dim moonlight as she
beckoned me to follow, and I could no more resist her lure than I could will
myself to stop breathing.
****
They found me in the jungle, feverish, raving, and unable to account
for the three days I had been missing. Upon hearing the news, Chikki became
convinced that I would die without her. She defied her family and came to our
village, moving into my grandfather's house to help my mother nurse me. I
would have died even so, but my grandfather -- against my mother's wishes --
brought an obeah priest to the village to brew potions, chant spells, and
fight against the curse which had come upon me. The priest placed gourds
filled with food in the doorway to ward off sickness brought by Duendes,
crossed my worn shoes in order to prevent evil spirits from entering them
during my sleep, painted the indigo cross on my forehead, fed me broth made
from the flesh of the wowla, and chased the fatal magic of the Ixtabay out of
my soul. But though I lived, he could never chase her from my heart.
I heard the faint stirring of her song for many long, tormented nights,
and I often broke my promise to resist it. Usually someone would stop me
before I could escape from our tiny house, and more than once they resorted to
tying me to the bed. But once I tricked them all into thinking I was too weak
to warrant a guard, and I slipped into the dark jungle before anyone could
catch me. They chased me all night, their torches a banner of man in that
other manless world as I crashed blindly through branches, fronds, and twining
vines, searching for the love which, having welcomed me but once, would now
elude me forever.
They brought me home at dawn, shaking and demented, wishing for the
same peace which had ended my father's torment so long ago. How could I go on
living if I was never again to know the embrace of the Ixtabay? All other