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.S.Marines.There was something else here, something that Kayla realized with a start.She's not.there's something very different about this bag lady.That odd face.the heavy cords of musclebeneath the rags, this lady could be a pro weightlifter without any training.the teeth, too longand pointed to belong to a human.the long fingernails, crusted with dirt.no, they're claws,sharp claws.She's not human, not anymore than the elves, she's something else, somethingcompletely different.She felt more than saw the burst of magic, flowing from the old woman like dark water,racing toward Kayla.a shadow reaching out past her, moving through the door.She nearlyfell, stepping away from it.She pressed against the wall, flinching where the dark light brushedagainst her, feeling a sharp pain as though she'd been cut and was bleeding.and sensed that itwas delighting in that, enjoying her fear and pain.There was a strangled sound from outside the closed door, and then the boneless thump ofsomething heavy falling, and then again, a similar noise.Kayla listened, but she couldn't hearanything else, not a single sound.“Well, that takes care of that,” the old woman said, a small satisfied look on her face.Sheturned to Kayla, who was still crouched against the wall.“They won't trouble us,” the womansaid, “or interfere in any way.Now, come with me.I was about to set the table for dinner.” Theold woman tottered away toward a lit doorway down the hall.Kayla glanced at the closed door, sensing that hungry darkness still lingering outside, and decided that maybe, just this once, she didn't want to look.She didn't really want to follow the old woman anywhere, either.Just what did she do? It feltlike magic, but it wasn't any magic I'd ever seen before, nothing I'd want to know.I'd better be polite, at least until I figure out who— or what— she is, and what's going onhere.“Coming, dearie?” the old woman asked, peering back at her.“Uh.yeah,” Kayla said uneasily.“I'm coming along right now.”The next room was dimly lit by several huge candles, their flickering light half-concealingthe furniture draped with dark cloth and the odd object in the corner, a huge metal cauldronhanging over a pit of bright coals.The cauldron was blackened and old, and the old woman wasnow standing in front of it, adding seasonings from a small clay pot.“Make yourself comfortable, dearie,” the old woman said, sniffing suspiciously at the openclay pot in her hand.Something leaped out of it and skittered across the floor.The old womanyelped, dropping the pot.Kayla gingerly sat down on the couch.“Can I help?” she asked hesitantly.As long as I don'thave to eat whatever she's cooking for dinner.I'm not into cockroaches, thanks.“Oh, possibly in a minute,” the old woman said, reaching for another clay pot on the shelfabove her.“For now, just make yourself comfortable.”“Uh, thanks,” Kayla said.There was a low table, also draped in a dark sheet, directly in frontof the couch.Several dozen pieces of paper were spread out upon it.Curious, Kayla picked upone of them.It was covered with beautiful, twisty designs drawn in many colors: bright blues and reds andgolds, all coiling together to form patterns.In the center, there was what looked like the image ofa cow drawn out of a knotwork of twisty lines.The paper was odd, too: a heavy, tanned paper with darker lines running through it.“What isthis?” she asked the old woman.The old woman sighed.“That is a drawing I made from the Book of Kells,” she said, reachingfor a wooden spoon with a long handle, maybe three feet long, and stirring the contents of theblack cauldron furiously.“I've been drawing my own version for the last two hundred years orso.”“Two hundred years!” Kayla repeated in shock.The woman laughed, an odd creaking sound.“I suppose I should be explaining to you who Iam.An Caillach Beara, that was what they called me in the Old Country.”“An Caill.?”“Call me Beara, dearie, if you can't pronounce the Gaelic.”“Beara.Okay, I can handle that.What's the Old Country?”“My, you're full of questions! I was born in Eire many years ago, what they now call Ireland.I came to America when foul times and famine befell the land.Not that I ever cared to eat potatoes, mind you, but if the people were starving, so was I.“And, to make it worse, they wouldn't believe in me anymore.Once they feared me and mymagic, but now no one believes in me [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]