"Michelle West - Under The Skin" - читать интересную книгу автора (West Michelle)

the wildness; there is no magic that does not take what is within and use it. Do you
understand this?" They walked toward the neighborhood that Jane called home, and
it was only once they arrived there that Jane realized that she, and not the woman,
was leading. Show me, she thought. Where's the magic here, besides you?
"You."
"But you gave me that."
"Did I? Very well. Do you see that house? That house was planted in 1916."
''Houses aren't planted."
"Ah, but they are. And they grow as the people who live in them grow, developing
a sense for romance and bereavement, for happiness and tragedy, for life. Your
house will remember you long after you've passed by it." She began to walk toward
Arundel, and Jane followed, until they stood at the foot of her house.
"Look at this house," the woman said, and her tone was completely different. "It is
not a well-cared for house at the moment. There is anger and loss and things darker
besides."
Jane said nothing.
"And there was no magic at all in it, no belief in magic." She turned then, and
looked at Jane with her dark eyes, her light eyes. "Do you understand why you
found me, Jane?"
"No."
"Because for you there was no magic, and no life exists in the end without it."
"Most people live without magic," Jane replied, feeling prickles up and down her
spine.
"Do they?" She reached down and stroked the top of Jane's head. "Jane, your
father left your mother, and you have nothing but pain and anger to give him for it.
Why?"
"Because he lied to us. And he hurt us."
"You are hurting him greatly."
"He deserves it."
"Why?"
"Because he lied! Because he cheated on my mother for months before he told her,
and because he-he married my mother. He promised to love her forever."
"That," she said gravely, "is magic."
"What?"
"That belief. Your mother believed your father, and your father believed in himself.
That was years ago, but the house remembers."
"Well, if that was magic, then magic isn't worth shit."
"Let it go, Jane. Let it go, if it is worth so little."
Jane's snort came out a growl; it stopped her for a moment. "He can't just get away
with it," she said at last.
"No, I suppose he can't. But think: If you will have magic, then you must create it
and understand what its value is."
"I had no choice in anything either of them did."
The silver-haired woman did not answer, but instead began to walk away.
"Where are you going?"
"Into your yard."
"Why?"
"Because your mother is there."
"What the hell, my mother is supposed to be at work!" She hesitated at the gate,
and the woman opened it. "I don't want to see my mother."