Читать книгу The Seventh Angel. Crypt of the Seven Angels - Natalie Yacobson - Страница 5

«Somewhere there is the seventh!»

Whisper hung over the asphalt.

«There are only six of them! And there was once seven! The standert-bearers of the devil!»

Sheriff almost slept behind the wheel, and the voices whispered to him some kind of biblical nonsense about the helpmates of devil.

In the head it was repeated:

«Seventh! Seventh! Seventh!»

«He is among us,» was repeated.

The blind boy was sitting on the asphalt and drew bloody symbols, and seven figures went around him. From the side, everything looked terribly like some kind of mystery.

The sheriff did not even think: whether they want to attack the beggar or they help him. The view of the figures was sinister. They dimly glowed and reminded the ghosts.

After all, the figures are exactly seven. And the incorporeal voice whispers already in the ear.

«Somewhere there is the seventh!»

The figures almost danced around the boy. And for some reason it seemed that the blind boy sees them, and not only listens to them. He picked out some of their advice and drew on the road something similar to the pentagram. And he did not drew with some paint, but precisely with blood. And definitely not with his own. Everything made reminded the rite. A thin fragrance of a recent murder flowed over the asphalt. But it was impossible to interfere.

The sheriff knew this beggar. The blind boy was from the mafia. It is better not to touch him that he would do. This is the mafia business. They will figure it out with him. The sheriff drove past. He managed to notice on a turn, as empty eyes stared straight on him without pupils. The brakes refused so suddenly that he did not have time to even panic. The police car crashed into a lamppost, as if someone strongly pushed it. No one reacted on the explosion in the night. And whispers stood above the crash, in which the driver was just crashed.

«Somewhere there is the seventh. He will come. You will know his voice.»

The blind boy also heard the voices.

And someone pale watched, as the remnants of the police car are expelled.

The drawer is disappeared. Blaise examined his office. The house of the head of the mafia was amazingly quiet. Probably, she was too hurried, leaving her trophy at him. She did not think that the box could disappear directly from the house. Unless someone decided to steal the contents and sell as a museum rarity. Then this content was devouring him for a long time, and now it is looking for its body.

The fact that Mario will not return to the morning, it was easily predictable. His safeguards did not return too. Not anyone else to ask something. Although no, one guy, obviously from his suite, was sitting in the corridor, squeezing his own head with his hands. Blaise learned Rico with difficulty. He led himself and looked like a mentally ill. Even hit several times with a head about the wall, rushing to drive some thoughts or memories.

«Bird…» he repeated all the time.

«What?» Blaise carefully sat down next to him and began to look at the ugly bites on his hands. Familiar traces! Rico is a living dead man, but he still does not know about it.

«A large marble bird,» he mumbled. «She flew and attacked on top. And it was useless to shoot it. She is from marble. Do you believe me?»

«Of course, I believe you,» Blaise carefully took a weapon from him.

«I’m not crazy,» he looked around.

«No more than I,» Blaise reassured him, «but you’re better to sleep.»

His gun was with a silencer. How lucky! She lowered the trigger, without thinking, and watched the guy’s brains waved around the wall.

It is strange that more than about the take-off life she thought about how ridiculous blood splashed a beautiful bas-relief. Mario appreciated an art. Now Mario was dead. For the sake of whim, she sacrificed her godfather. Now she needs to be a leader or kill everyone here. Her survival system was simple – you need to eliminate anyone who does not want to recognize you the leader.

Mario before his death, at least satisfied his curiosity. It was necessary to believe her words. But people like to think that she is lying when she says that religion and marble bother her to live.

Religion of the Rosier family is the biggest evil on Earth. She inspires the descendants of the kind that there are some higher forces that lead each of your step, as if you are a toy. And no longer matters: you leave from the crypt where these forces live or not, dependence on them still remains.

She felt like that, as if the statues, who were not here, followed every her step.

What strikingly empty and quiet has become a huge house. Blaise walked along the corridor, holding a weapon at the ready, and did not meet anyone. There were several corpses here. She wonder who killed them? Certainly not she.

Mario’s last wife, a very young dim girl, was dead, crushed as if a column fell on her. His young daughter from the first marriage Etna sobbed, squeezing in the corner. Blaise studied her wounds with a look only moment, and then brought the trunk of the weapon to her temple.

«Sorry, but death is the best way out for you.»

Blaise pressed the trigger to dark forehead of Etna. She fired only one shot at her. Someone pale and marble stood outside the window, but he did not intervene.