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

unhurried and reflective to be real. The continual thud of shell-
bursts, which drove men mad, did not trouble him. Several bullets
had passed through him that night, but his flesh had healed swiftly
in their wake. The carnage could not touch him physically, yet his
eyes were clouded.
The dying; he felt them all around him. Through the stink of mud,
petroleum and smoke rolled the smell of blood, heavy and sweet;
enticing to the vampire and therefore incongruous amid this horror.
The thirst rose independent of his will. Thirst and revulsion. Mixed
with the vibrant scent of the living, the powerful tang of death and
congealed blood weighed coldly in the back of his throat.
No human could have heard the cries of the injured above the
barrage, but the vampire could not shut them out. They were
everywhere, directionless; screams and sobs, the last dry groans of
those who no longer had the strength to call for help. One voice,
more plaintive and piercing than the others, cried over and over
again in German for his mother.
No one would come to help them. No one could.
Deep in a crater, the vampire found a soldier half submerged in the
mud. His uniform was plastered to his body, his face almost black

file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/Freda%20Warrington%20-%20A%20Taste%20of%20Blood%20Wine.html (10 of 711)28-12-2006 21:38:58
A Taste


with dirt, but his eyes flickered very white in the bursts of false
daylight. An English soldier, this one. There was a great hole in his
side through which the viscera gleamed dully. To the vampire's
enhanced sight the colours were vivid, the reds and purples of the
raw flesh infinitely varied even in darkness. Blood seeped down
into an oily pool in the bottom of the crater and made a crimson
spiral on the surface.
The man was in agony almost beyond speech, but he reached out to
claw at the vampire's legs. A brave grimace broke like a wound
across his face.
"Knew you'd come if I hung on. It's this ruddy 'elmentтАФcan't get
comfortableтАФ"
The vampire knelt beside him in the soil, supported his head and
removed the tin helmet. The hair beneath it was baby blond, the
face under the grime so young; too young. Surely he had lied about
his age to enlistтАж but perhaps he was considered old enough to die.
"Thanks, mate," said the soldier. "Where's Harry, have they found
Harry?"
"I don't know," the vampire replied softly. He bent down, looking at
the pulse beating in the boy's throat; avoiding his eyes. God, so
young.
"Will they be long with the stretcher?" The young man swallowed
drily. "Gawd, it hurts. Will it be long?"
"No," said the vampire. "Not long."
The skin of the boy's neck tasted foul, bitter with the ingrained filth