"Whitley Strieber - The Night Church" - читать интересную книгу автора (Strieber Whitley)

basement, I was real scared. . . ."
"I was asleep too. Guess we're overtired."
"I guess."
He started in on her again. "Not now!" She gave his hand a pat.
"Put the boy to bed."
Little Jerry was already in his pajamas, playing with his toy trains in the hallway behind them.
"Come on, darling, bedtime."
He padded along behind his mother. When they reached the bedroom she gave him a goodnight kiss,
embracing him, feeling the solidity and warmth of him, smelling his clean smell, loving him so very much.
"Goodnight, Jerry. You sleep tight, now."
"You too, Mom."
"And say your prayers. Guardian Angel and three Hail Marys."
"I will, Mom."
She left him, then, to the dark of his little room.
George was waiting for her. Liberace's TV show was just starting. She sank down into George's arms as
the swelling music filled the room.
Neither of them heard the slight click made by the pantry door as it opened, nor the sigh as a raincoat
brushed past the dining room curtains, nor the hiss of breath, which was the only sound the old man made
as he stood in the hallway watching them.
"Lover," George whispered, "Lover . . ." How she adored her George with his tough ways and tender
heart. She snuggled closer to him, inhaling the mixture of Jade East aftershave and tobacco that was his
odor.
"You will give me your son."
Now what was that he had said? "George?"
"Yeah?"
"What did you say?"
"Nothing."
"I thought you said something."
"Musta been the TV."
"There's nobody talking." Liberace smiled radiantly, re-splendent in his rhinestone dinner jacket. He was
playing Liszt's "Hungarian Rhapsody Number One," and nobody was talking.
"You will give him to me."
Letty felt an awful, queasy sensation, as if she had just smelled something dead. "Oh, George, I feel
sick!"
He didn't seem to notice. He was fooling with the TV. "I think we're picking up that Hartford station
again. There's some kind of a drama or something. That's what we're hearing on the audio."
"You will give him to me. Say yes, both of you. Yes!"
Letty was dizzy, so much so that she couldn't even think straight. Somebody wanted something from her,
somebody important wanted her to say yes, to give away little Jerry. . ..
"No!"
A terrible silence entered the room. George seemed fro-zen before the TV. Something touched Letty's
shoulder. She could feel cold fingers digging into her muscles. Her soul screamed revulsionтАФthe hand even
felt wicked.
"He's only going away to school, Letty. The finest school in the world. And you and George are entering
a new life, with new hopes and new beliefs. A better life than you have ever known before." The voice
seemed now to be coming from inside her own head, yet she was aware of a dim form in the room, a man
leaning against the far wall beside the picture of the new Pope she had just hung up yesterday, a man who
was all hat and coat and hypnotic voice. A man who was evil in a way Letty could hardly believe, totally,
utterly, in every atom of his being.
So evil he might not even be a man. But his voice curled and twisted through her mind like seductive