Archiwum
- Index
- Forstchen, William R & Morrison, Greg Crystal Warriors 2 Crystal Sorcerers
- Golding William Trylogia morska 02 Twarzą w twarz
- Savannah Davis Highland Warrior Samantha und William
- Charles Williams Hill Girl (1951) (pdf)
- William Golding Il signore delle mosche
- 141. Williams Cathy Zimowa przygoda
- Walter Jon Williams House of Shards
- Hogdson, William H La Casa en el Confin de la Tierra
- Williams Polly Bezradnik małżeński
- Williams Cathy Francuska wróşka
- zanotowane.pl
- doc.pisz.pl
- pdf.pisz.pl
- stemplofil.keep.pl
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still alive and after her first death. Now that Pipt was acting as her
personal necromancer there was no reason to believe she would back off now.
Screw politics: this was my number one priority. And if I couldn't deal with
one presumably human madman, I certainly couldn't hope to rule several hundred
undead ones.
"So what about Cairn?" I asked abruptly.
"What?" The question caught her off balance and seemed to fluster her.
"I get the fact that the average Joe and Jill Vampire are wondering about my
human agenda. I take it this Cairn sees this as an opportune time to make a
power grab."
Her face was like stone. "That would seem logical."
"So what's his campaign slogan?"
"What?"
"What's his political platform? 'Vote for me: I really suck?' 'Go Undead, Not
Half-Dead?' Has he addressed vampire social issues?"
"The ascension to the throne is not a democratic political process unless you
count character
assassination, disinformation, and dirty tricks campaigns." A small smile
cracked her frozen façade.
"Yeah, I get that, too. But what about the vamp, himself? What does he promise
to those who support him?"
"Power, I suppose, just like any other political movement. As for specifics,
you would have to ask one of them. That's assuming you could identify one,
capture him, and make him talk."
"It just seems an odd kind of campaign," I mused. "No one seems to know who
this guy is or what he stands for. I'm told this Doman wannabe has been taking
out the opposition for a half century or so and yet he's still a backroom boy,
no closer to the limelight and making a popular bid for public candidacy.
That's a long time to keep to the shadows."
"Not if you're an elder vampire," she said, her eyes narrowed against the
glare of passing headlights.
"Their lives are measured in centuries the way yours and mine are counted in
decades. Fifty years is a relatively brief span of time in the bigger
political picture. And you forget that Dracula and Báthory were the ruling
powers during those years. Any opposition was dealt with swiftly and brutally
during that period."
"Maybe," I conceded. "But the door's been wide open these past several months.
It's been a perfect opportunity for an established member of the New York
community a political freedom fighter by some accounts to step forward and
challenge a fangless outsider for the throne. The enclave is all abuzz with
rumors that I will impose moratoriums on breeding, hunting, and killing."
"Perhaps he prefers to do that from behind the scenes for a bit longer."
"My intel suggests that he's more interested in seeding chaos than
consolidating a power base."
Her lips were compressed in a straight line beneath the faux moustache and
beard. "Who knows?
Insanity is not uncommon among the older vamps."
"And those who serve him?"
"As I said, you'd have to find them to ask them.
Our intel suggests that secret cadres exist which denounce Cairn in public but
serve him in secret. And that's as far as we've been able to get."
"Ever try to infiltrate one of these cadres?"
She snorted. "Despite my nickname, I don't have any disguises that good." The
car angled up to a curb and stopped. "We're here."
"Here" was a side street lined with old brownstones dating back a century or
more. Lights burned in some of the windows dispelling the first impression
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that the crumbling buildings were long abandoned.
Darcy flashed the headlights twice and killed the engine.
"I still don't know what we are doing here," I said.
"We are here to perform a little surgery. Our demesne has developed cancer and
tonight we're going to remove a tumor."
"Really? Why didn't Kurt brief me about this?"
"Kurt doesn't inform you of every little administrative detail. And just as he
doesn't micromanage what he delegates, so I don't pass along every little
detail of my work, either. He trusts me to do my job so he can concentrate on
doing his."
"Sounds reasonable," I said. "Except everyone thinks you're still in your
room. So stop dodging the question and tell me what we're doing and why you're
running it like a covert ops mission. And why you're hauling the three
leg-biters with fangs."
One of her eyebrows went up. "Leg-biters?"
"Leg-biters, shin-kickers, ankle-grabbers, cookie-crumblers, yard-apes,
curtain-climbers, thumb-gummers . . ."
"I am taking Tommy, Sindi, and Sassy to see their Sire."
"And that is?"
"Malik Szekely."
"Any relation to 'Uncle' Kurt Szekely?"
"His brother."
"Ah. Kurt never mentioned having a brother."
"He wouldn't.
"Family history?"
"Isn't family all about history?"
I nodded. "And I'll bet the Szekelys have oodles of it."
"You are a quick study, Mr. Cséjthe."
"Yeah? Then how do you explain the lapse of judgment that brought me here?"
"You can wait in the car, if you wish."
"What? And miss the father and child reunion?"
"You are upset."
"What makes you say that?"
"You're working very hard at keeping your face and your voice neutral."
"You think?" I asked calmly. "Maybe I just don't give a shit."
"You prove my point. If you didn't care, you might say that you didn't care.
You're not a vulgar person, Chris. When you say you don't give a shit, you are
telling me that you are upset."
"Are you?"
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