Thicker Than Water читать онлайн

Автор: Mike Carey
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Открывайте «Thicker Than Water» и читайте — текст лежит здесь целиком, бесплатно, без регистраций и подтверждений номера. Жанр — Легкое чтение, Фэнтези, Городское фэнтези. Никаких обрезанных глав и предложений «оплати подписку, чтобы узнать, чем всё кончится»: книга представлена в том виде, в каком её написал Mike Carey.

Прежде чем нырять в первую главу, гляньте аннотацию или авторское предисловие — обычно там в двух абзацах понятно, о чём вообще речь, какой настрой и стоит ли это вашего вечера. Предисловие публикуем как есть, без редакторских пересказов от себя. Если описания пока нет или оно куцее — оставьте коммент, найдём и добавим.

Текст разбит на страницы: глазам так комфортнее, чем листать бесконечную ленту, и читается дольше без усталости. Место, где остановились, сохраняется автоматически — закрыли вкладку, вернулись через неделю, и страница откроется ровно та же. Шрифт регулируется, фон переключается между светлой и тёмной темой: вечером с тёмной экран меньше слепит, днём светлая привычнее.

Под книгой — отзывы тех, кто уже прочёл. Туда заглядывать полезно: иногда вылезают спорные смыслы, которые сам пропустил, иногда — категоричные «не моё, не тратьте время», и тоже информация. Дочитали «Thicker Than Water» — оставьте пару строк, кому-то это поможет решить.

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Межстрочный интервал

A dizzy sense of triumph filled me, and I found it hard to keep my poker face intact. When this was over, I would have most of what I needed to set Rafi free from the burden he’d been carrying for the past three years. I could finally nail Asmodeus to the wall and let my friend walk away clean.

I lowered my hands. My ears were filled with clamour and roaring as though someone had just used my brain as the clapper of a bell. ‘Okay,’ I said, unable to hear the sound of my own voice, ‘this is how it plays.

Anything inside that boy that isn’t boy, you can feed on. Whatever piece of the demon is gripping his soul. Take it out of him, and do whatever the hell you like with it. So long as no harm comes to him in the process, and nothing is left inside of him at the end that isn’t human. Nothing of you, and nothing of this other entity. Give me a yes or a no, Asmodeus. Not an inch or an ounce of this is negotiable.’

The demon’s lips moved - or rather the man’s lips moved and the demon spoke through them.

I couldn’t hear the word, but I could read it: and a nod is a nod in any language.

Asmodeus crawled spider-like to the southern tip of the pentagram, where he stared down at Bic with feral delight. Slowly he leaned forward as far as he could, lowering his upper body on jackknifed arms and craning his neck back until the point of his jaw touched the ground a scant inch from Bic’s face. The boy seemed asleep, his eyes closed, his body absolutely still and his face perfectly inexpressive.

Asmodeus spoke another syllable - again, I could only see his lips move, not hear the sound - and something rose up from Bic’s slumped form like steam from a kettle.

You must have seen a cat with a mouse. Well, if the cat and the mouse were both nine-tenths invisible, and if they didn’t move, then that was a little like what we saw: the thing that rose from Bic met another thing that was exhaled in a malevolent hiss from between Asmodeus’s clenched teeth, and the air roiled and rocked at their inter-penetration.

But it wasn’t a battle, because there was no point at which Asmodeus was moved to more than token effort. The thing that was inside Bic, which was a limb of the greater thing that hung over the Salisbury, might be fighting for its life insofar as it had one: Asmodeus was playing, and drawing out the pleasure.