"Roger Zelazny - Amber 06 - Trumps Of Doom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

manage a kick to its head. I couldn't get out of its way either.
Its forelegs were level with my midriff, and I hoped that my uncle had
been right about this one too, as I seized them and twisted backward and
inward with all of my strength, dropping to one knee to avoid those jaws, chin
lowered to protect my throat, my head drawn back. Bones popped and crunched as
I twisted and its head lowered almost immediately to attack my wrists. But by
then I was already rising, thrusting forward, springing up.
It went over backward, twisted, and almost caught itself. When its paws
struck the floor, however, it made a sound halfway between a whimper and a
snarl and collapsed forward.
 I was about to try for another blow to the skull when it recovered its
footing, moving faster than I'd thought it could. It raised its right foreleg
immediately upon standing and balanced itself on three legs, still growling,
eyes fixed on my own, saliva dampening its lower jaw. I moved slightly to my
left, certain that it was about to rush me yet again, angling my body,
positioning myself in a way that no one had taught me, because I do
occasionally have original thoughts.
It was a little slower when it came for me this time. Maybe I could have
gone for the skull and gotten it. I don't know because I didn't try. I seized
it once more by the neck, and this time it was familiar territory. It would
not pull away as it had before in the few moments I needed. Without breaking
its momentum I turned and dropped low and thrust and pulled, adding some
guidance to its trajectory.
It turned in midair, its back striking the window. With a shattering,
splintering sound it passed through, taking most of the frame, the curtain and
the curtain rod along with it.
I heard it hit three stories below. When I rose and looked out I saw it
twitch a few times and grow still, there on the concrete patio where Julia and
I had often had a midnight beer.
I returned to Julia's side and held her hand. I began to realize my anger.
Someone had to be behind this. Could it be S again? Was this my April 30
present for this year? I'd a feeling that it was and I wanted to do unto S as
I had just done unto the creature that had performed the act. There had to be
a reason. There ought to be a clue.
I rose, went to the bedroom, fetched a blanket, and covered Julia with it.
Mechanically, I wiped my fingerprints from the fallen doorknob as I began my
search of the apartment.
I found them on the mantelpiece between the clock and a stack of
paperbacks dealing with the occult. The moment I touched them and felt their
coldness I realized that this was even more serious than I had thought. They
had to be the thing of mine she'd had that I would be needing - only they were
not really mine, though as I riffled through I recognized them on one level
and was puzzled by them on another. They were cards, Trumps, like yet unlike
any I had ever seen before.
It was not a complete deck. Just a few cards, actually, and strange. I
slipped them into my side pocket quickly when I heard the siren. Time for
solitaire later.
I tore down the stairs and out the back door, encountering no one. Fido
still lay where he had fallen and all the neighborhood dogs were discussing
it. I vaulted fences and trampled flowerbeds, cutting through backyards on my