"David Wilson - Vampire Book 3 - To Dream of Dreamers Lost" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilson David Niall)

тАЬI speak for the Church in this,тАЭ Santorini grated
TO DREAM OF DREAMERS LOST
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finally. тАЬThe bargain was not metтАФthe alliance has
been broken. Surely you can see our position.тАЭ
тАЬHas it now?тАЭ MontrovantтАЩs eyes gleamed wickedly.
тАЬI hope that you and I still consider ourselves
allies, Antonio, truly I do.тАЭ
тАЬOf course,тАЭ Santorini cut in quickly. тАЬThat is
why I am here. You and I must forge a new alliance,
and quickly. It is clearly the Order which has broken
the trust. We must find a way to return what
they have taken before Rome grows impatient with
us both.тАЭ
Montrovant laughed mirthlessly, reaching for the
decanter on his desk and refilling both of their
glasses. тАЬYou think I give a damn about Rome,
Antonio? I do not. Your Church, and your Pope,
can rot and fall to dust tomorrow and it is the same
to me. You have known this from the start. Our
alliance has nothing at all to do with faith. Those
of my brotherhood may share your belief, but be
certain of this, I believe only in the darkness, and
in myself.тАЭ
тАЬThere will come a time when you will regret
that,тАЭ Santorini replied, his voice little more than
a whisper. тАЬFor all who walk the Earth, there is a
judgment.тАЭ
тАЬWhen, and if, I am judged, my friend,тАЭ
Montrovant chuckled, тАЬyou will not exist, even in
memory. Now, we have business to attend to, and
I suggest that we get started. I have kept my end of
the agreement. I have brought you proof. The vault
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DAVID NIALL WILSON
is empty, as I suspect it has been all along, and the
Order has vanished. I have provided a witness.тАЭ
MontrovantтАЩs gaze slipped to the side, coming to
rest on a sealed chest of the same dark polished
mahogany as his desk. He stood, his tall, lean frame
dramatic in a long, sweeping cloak and coal-black
suit. The cross of the Templars was embroidered
into the material, catching the light and glittering
hypnotically. The Templars had been disbanded,
officially, but Montrovant did not fear the wrath of
kings, or God. He might have been a shadow, but
somehow he made the simple act of standing seem
elegant and fascinating. Santorini shook his head,
trying to clear his momentary lapse of concentration,
but all he achieved was to increase the