"Freda Warrington - A Taste of Blood Wine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Warrington Freda)

"Kristian, in God's nameтАФ"
"Ah, now the heretic calls on God? I won't do it yet. I'll give you
time to think." As he spoke, he lifted his hands and began to scrape
Karl's dried blood from under his fingernails, as if cleaning a

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dagger. "But don't think for too long. Such a shame, if Ilona has to
pay for your waywardness."
Before Karl could respond, Kristian stepped away, opening his
hands in malediction. Then his body elongated to a dark streak that
arced away and vanished into the Crystal Ring. Only the after-
image of his faceтАФcloud-white, etched with the severe brows, the
dark pits of his eyes, the single black moleтАФlingered for a second
before dispersing into nothingness.
Kristian was gone, but his threat hung in the air like a column of
smoke. Harmless in itself, the sinister flag of destruction. Karl
began to feel cold. The noise of battle seemed muffled now, but the
voices of the dying came through clear as trumpets, and pain rose
from them in silvery waves.
He had to stay. A painful decision, callousтАФbut the only one he
could make. To heed the threat was to let Kristian win.
There is no God here. No revelations in Kristian's words or in
medieval superstition to explain any of this, he thought. Science
thenтАж what can that tell a vampire, who by the laws of natural
philosophy should not exist?
One voice in particular drew him now; a German, crying pitifully
over and over again, "MuftiтАж Mufti, hilf mirтАж "
He went towards the sound. A strange breast-high mist was drifting
across the battlefield, like a vampire of another kind, sucking the
last remnant of warmth from the dead. It crept down into the shell-
hole where the young English soldier lay drained of life; not the
first of the wounded to whom the vampire had brought swift


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oblivion that night, nor the last.
This night would be endless.




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