"Rusch, Kristine Kathryn - Chimera" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rusch Kristine Kathryn)

"You were the most beautiful thing," the woman said, apparently oblivious to the distress her words caused. "I never believed humans could fly until I saw you."

"I don't fly any longer," Gen said.

The woman nodded. "Dance is such a cruel discipline, even with the modern enhancements. No matter how our technologies improve, our bodies still have limits."

"I never believed that," Gen said.

The woman looked at her measuringly. Gen swallowed. The tears threatened to spill. She shook her head slightly as if the movement could force the tears back into her tear ducts. Then she clutched her hands together, feeling the thin, fragile bones. "I'm sorry. I think Dr. Prichard was wrong. I'm not ready for this."

"You don't know until you try." The woman came closer. She smelled faintly of cinnamon and apples. She took Gen's twisting hands into her own. They were big and warm and soothing. "I'm Anna Capstik. Welcome to my home."

Gen closed her eyes. How long had it been since anyone had touched her? Since the accident, she'd turned away from hugs, stepped back from a friendly arm around her shoulder, and pretended not to notice an outstretched hand. But she didn't pull away from Anna.

Gen made her eyes open and nodded once. "Thank you," she said again.

"Come into the kitchen," Anna said. "Most of the animals will come out then."

"You don't have them somewhere else?"

Anna laughed. "You sound as if I can control them. They're as unruly as children." She squeezed Gen's hands and let go. "I do have some in isolation. They're so traumatized when they come here. The ones who have the run of the house are the ones that I'll adopt out."

Gen took a deep breath. "I'm still not sureЧ"

"Dr. Prichard is, though," Anna said. "Trust her. She makes wise decisions."

Gen nodded. She had had to trust all of her doctors after the accident. They had made a thousand decisions for her when she was unconscious: rebuilding her legs in ways that would still allow her to teach dance; growing her a new liver, new kidneys, and injecting stem cells into her heart. She always thought it ironic that they felt her heart needed repair, but they didn't grow her a new one. Perhaps if they had done that, she wouldn't have needed the counseling, wouldn't have had the nightmares, wouldn't have locked herselfЧ

"Gen?" Anna was looking at her. "Are you all right?"

Gen nodded. "Nervous. The last time I cared for somethingЕ"

She didn't finish the sentence, but Anna knew. Everyone knew. Gen had been a celebrity who, when she retired from the stage, had come home to Portland. Her classes were world-renowned. Parents sent their little darlings to her to learn the finer points of ballet. Until nine months ago, she had gone on media interviews all over the world, had guest-instructed everywhere from New York to Beijing, and all the time she had used her influence to bring money and prestige to her own favorite city.

So the city was trying to give back now. Only it couldn't. No one could. Dar was dead.

She shuddered. She still couldn't see her son as anything except a crushed pile of bones, flesh, and blood, his skull shattered, his eyeЧ

"Gen?" Anna asked again.

"I'm coming," Gen said.

Anna led her through a formal dining room with a picture window overlooking an enclosed yard. Someone had planted a flowering cherry tree outside so that it was perfectly centered with the window. Tulips and daffodils bloomed beneath the cherry tree, a reminder that spring always came early in Oregon.

A movement caught Gen's eye. She turned, saw a furry head duck behind a three-foot-high Delft vase positioned near the kitchen door.

"Move that, Cedric," Anna said, "and you'll be in trouble again."

There was no answering response from the hiding creature. Anna gave Gen a tiny smile and pushed open the swinging door.