"Robert Weinberg - Logical Magician 01 - A Logical Magician" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weinberg Robert)

temperature hovered slightly above freezing and it rained for weeks, or it was near sixty
every day with bright sunny skies. Jack's first year in Chicago, six inches of snow had
fallen on Easter, only to melt three days later in eighty-degree heat. To the delight of
everyone this year, especially the weather forecasters, spring had arrived in fine fashion,
with beautifully balmy afternoons and comfortable temperatures.
Raising the curtains, Jack Set the sunshine bathe him in its warmth. Raising his arms
over his head, he stretched for the ceiling. Lazily, his gaze swept across the edge of the
campus and to the street beyond. And froze.
Slowly and carefully, he backed away from the glass. His eyes remained fixed on
two figures barely visible in the shadows of a deserted building a hundred yards distant.
Neither gave an indication they had spotted him. Jack wanted to keep it that way.
Once he edged past the last possible angle of visibility, he immediately dropped to
the floor. Scrambling on his hands and knees, he crawled back to the window. Cautiously,
he raised his eyes above the window ledge, positioning himself so that the center frame hid
his forehead.
Squinting, Jack searched nervously for the unholy duo he had glimpsed seconds
ago. It only took an instant to locate them. As far as he could tell, they had not moved.
He breathed a sigh of relief. His enemies evidently knew approximately where he was
located, but didn't have a precise fix on his whereabouts. He was safe, though not for
long. Even now, companions of the two across the street might be searching the building
for him.
At the precise instant that thought passed through Jack's mind, someone knocked
on his apartment door.
"Hey, Jack," called a familiar voice from the hallway. "It's me, Simon. Open up."
Cursing slightly, Jack scurried over to the door and opened it. "Get inside," he
commanded softly, urgently. "Quick."
"Now what?" asked Simon, stepping into the apartment. He looked around
anxiously. "The forces of darkness are at low ebb during the daytime. We're safe till
night."
"Glad to hear that," said Jack. He pointed a finger at the rear window. "Want to tell
our buddies across the street the news?"
Moving with inhuman grace, Simon positioned himself at the glass. The changeling's
features shifted to a bland, innocuous face resembling neither his nor Jack's. Only then did
he risk a look out the window. After a few seconds, his skin turned a delicate but definite
shade of green. Jack licked his lips uneasily.
"You recognize them?" he asked.
"Unfortunately," said Simon. He slipped back to the center of the parlor,
rearranging his visage with each step. Jack closed his eyes, unable to watch. He found the
process unsettling. It reminded him of a Gumby cartoon, but with a real person instead of
a clay image.
"A young punk and a big dog, right?" asked Jack, wanting to be sure there was no
mistake. "They were lounging in the doorway of the deserted store down the block.
Neither of them possesses an aura."
Simon's face was still green. There was no humor in his voice when he spoke. "And
you thought a vampire was bad news. Walsh was a pushover compared to those two
watching this place. We're in real trouble now, Jack."
"How cheering," said Jack, noting that Simon included himself in the danger. At
least there was no more waffling on the faerie's part. "Care to tell me who that character
really is, and why that dog gives me the shivers?"
Simon edged back to the window. He beckoned Jack to follow. "Notice anything