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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"So I had to come to my own conclusions about what had happened that day on the Triangle, and my mind went back to those two seconds when Kenny had hesitated after breaking Matt’s hold on him. It occurred to me, incredible as it seemed, that Kenny might actually have been afraid. Of my brother. Because Matt had taken everything that Kenny could throw at him and he hadn’t gone down. Maybe Kenny wasn’t certain that if he took up the fight where he’d left off, he’d be able to win it: and maybe that uncertainty kept him from doing the obvious and calling down a general fatwa on Matt.

You did that to weak kids, where there was no question that your own alpha status was at issue. If you did it to a potential rival, people would notice. Kenny was a wily little bastard, and at fifteen he already knew what Hitler and Napoleon and Attila the Hun had learned the hard way: that the appearance of strength is strength.

And, by the same token, people would notice if Kenny went after me. It was Matt who was his contemporary, so it was Matt who was his legitimate target.

I was protected by the bizarre unspoken gospels of the street, which were the measure of our lives and our souls right then.

It was only a matter of time, though, and I could see whenever Kenny looked at me that he hadn’t forgotten my remark about his mother’s suicide. I’d spoken of death to the king, and one way or another he was going to make sure I paid for it.

His opportunity came sooner than either of us expected. That summer Matt dropped out of school, immediately after taking his O levels, and transferred to Saint Joseph’s Catholic seminary at Upholland, about eight miles away from Walton.

It was unusual for Saint Joe’s to take someone into holy orders at sixteen, but the Jesuit who ran the place had noticed Matt when he was doing a talent-spotting trawl through the parishes inside the Queen’s Drive ring road, and he’d been impressed. He was prepared to stretch a point, he told our dad, and let Matt enter the college now.
He’d take his A levels at the same time as he started his holy orders, rather than finishing his studies at the attached high school first. Matt would be expected to live at the college, and although he could see his family at weekends they wouldn’t be encouraged to visit him and break his concentration at other times.

Dad wasn’t thrilled. His plans for Matt’s future involved Matt getting a job and turning up some money for his keep. But he wasen p.