Читать книгу The Book of Rapture - Nikki Gemmell - Страница 33

You drove that last afternoon at Salt Cottage. The five of you. Not too far because there would be roadblocks up ahead and none of you was completely convinced about that former student’s heart. But far enough. A brisk breeze buffeted the car like a boat in a wind-tossed sea and you said to Motl to stop, you were going to be sick, and stumbled out and straightened and stood there tall with the stiff wind skating off the plain but flinch you would not, break you would not. Breathing in the spite of it but not bending, not giving an inch, tears streaming down your cheeks. That was the core of you then, holding your face to that sting and that hurt. Fury had become your glowing nub. The embers were intense and they would never soften out.