"Nightworld 8 - Black Dawn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Lisa J)

It was raining, of course. Not a terrible storm, just a steady spitting patter that Maggie hardly noticed. It plastered her hair down but it also concealed the noise of her steps.

And the low-lying clouds blocked out Mount Rainier. In clear weather the mountain loomed over the city like an avenging white angel.

I'm actually following somebody, Maggie thought. She could hardly believe it, but she was really moving down her own home street like a spy, skirting cars and ducking behind rhododendron bushes.

While all the time keeping her eyes on the slender figure in front of her.

That was what kept her going. She might have felt silly and almost embarrassed to be doing thisbut not tonight. What had happened put her far beyond embarrassment, and if she 'started to relax
inside and feel the faint pricklings of uncertainty, memory surged up again and swept everything else away.

The memory of Sylvia's voice. The buckle might not have been fastened right. And the memory of her mother's hand going limp as her body sagged.

I'll follow you no matter where you go, Maggie thought. And then ...

She didn't know what then. She was trusting to instinct, letting it guide her. It was stronger and smarter than she was at the moment.

Sylvia's apartment was in the U district, the college area around the University of Washington. It was a long walk, and by the time they reached it, the rain was coming down harder. Maggie was glad to get out of it and follow Sylvia into the underground garage.

This is a dangerous place, she thought as she walked into the echoing darkness. But it was simply a note made by her mind, with no emotion attached. At the moment she felt as if she could punch a mugger hard enough to splatter him against the wall.

She kept a safe distance as Sylvia waited for the elevator, then headed for the stairs. Third floor. Maggie trotted up faster than the elevator could make it and arrived not even breathing hard. The door of the stairwell was half open and she watched from behind it as Sylvia walked to an apartment door and raised a hand to knock.

Before she could, the door opened. A boy who looked a little older than Maggie was holding it, letting a couple of laughing girls out. Music drifted to Maggie, and the smell of incense.

They're having a party in there.

That shouldn't be so shocking-it was Saturday night. Sylvia lived with three roommates; they were undoubtedly the ones having the party. But as the girls walked past Sylvia they smiled and nodded and Sylvia smiled and nodded back before walking calmly through the door.

Hardly the sort of thing you do when your boyfriend's just been killed, Maggie thought fiercely. And it doesn't exactly fit the "tragic heroine" act, either.

Then she noticed something. When the boy holding the door let go, it had swung almost shut--but not quite.

Can I do it? Maybe. If I look confident. I'd have to walk right in as if I belonged, not hesitate.

And hope she doesn't notice. Then get behind her. See if she talks to anybody, what she says ...

The laughing girls had caught the elevator. Maggie walked straight up to the door and, without pausing, she pushed it open and went inside.

Look confident, she thought, and she kept on going, instinctively moving toward a side wall. Her entry didn't seem to have caused a stir, and it was easier than she'd thought to walk in among these strangers. The apartment was very dark, for one thing. And the music was medium loud, and everybody seemed to be talking.

The only problem was that she couldn't see Sylvia. She put her back to the wall and waited for her eyes to adjust.

Not over there-not by the stereo. Probably in one of the bedrooms in back, changing.

It was as she moved toward the little hallway that led to the bedrooms that Maggie really noticed the strangeness. Something about this apartment, about this party ... was off. Weird. It gave her the same feeling that Sylvia did.

Danger.