"Laura Resnick - Under a Sky More Fiercely Blue" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Laura)

taken me with him to Vizzini.
Vizzini went to a cupboard and pulled out a map of Sicily. Luciano rose
from his chair and rounded the table so that he and the don could study the
map together. As terrified as I was, I knew this was another sign. He was
making it so easy for me, I knew that I had to do it. I stared at the two men,
willing my hands to move, feeling my dinner churning in my stomach as I
pictured the act in my mind.
Luciano glanced up, as if he felt the intensity of my gaze. He studied
me speculatively, his expression slightly puzzled.
Vizzini finally looked up, too, and smiled lazily. "You're listening
with interest, aren't you, Toto? You're a smart boy, and brave. Some day, you
will be one of us. Would you like that?"
I shook my head slowly. "I don't think so. My father was one of you,
and that's why he's dead."
Luciano straightened, holding my gaze. "Your father was of the
Society?"
I nodded. "And my brothers, Marco and Rosario. Not important men. Not
rich men, like you. We were always poor. But they were men of honor. Of
loyalty."
I think Vizzini guessed the truth before Luciano -- maybe because they
did things differently in America. Vizzini said, "They didn't die in the war,
did they?"
"No."
"Did the Fascists kill them?" Luciano asked very quietly.
I shook my head again. "_Vendetta_."
Luciano's eyes grew cold and wary. "Why are you still alive?"
"I killed their killers." To my shame, my voice broke as I remembered
the explosion of the _lupara_, the men's abrupt screams, the splattering of
shattered bone and mangled flesh, the stench of blood and death. "They were
the last ones. There's no one left in my village except women and children and




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old men. Now it's over. We would leave, but my brother Tommaso might be alive.
He might come home from the war someday, and I don't know how he would find us
if we left."
Luciano's eyes flashed uneasily to the pistol which lay on the table,
so near to me, so far from him.
"I can't leave," I said.
"Toto..." Luciano said slowly. "We could -- "
"No! It's over." I picked up the pistol before he could move. "No
more." My hand shook as I cocked the hammer. "You want to make us all live
that way, your way, my father's way." I shook my head and whispered, "No."
"Toto." Luciano's voice was commanding, threatening. He took two steps
toward me.
"Stop!" I shouted.
I smelled their blood even before I shot them. I think they both died
from the first two shots I fired, for I had a good aim and they were only a