KaRabAsHkA: переводы

→And that was the end of all thought.

→“How are you?” I asked.
“I’ve been better. I’m looking forward to oblivion.”

→Six minutes later, I was on the bed with a clean face and pajamas, when the door opened and Ethan
walked in.

→Ava nodded with relief.
Ethan looked at Helen. “You can arrange cots for the children?”
“Of course,” she said. “But what about you?”
“We’ll stay in Merit’s old room.”

→“Ready?” he asked, meeting me at the door. Like me, he’d changed into jeans, but the relaxed dress
didn’t minimize the power and authority in his posture. He was still the Master of his House, even
when other Masters had moved into his abode.

→“Drink,” he said, his wrist coming into focus in front of me, two lines of crimson across pale skin.
I wrapped my hands around it and pressed my lips to the cuts he’d opened, and I drank.

→“They’re developing,” she shyly said, picking at a thread on one of her sleeves. Her hands still
bore the faint scars of her attempt to unleash powerful black magic on the world.
A few weeks ago I wouldn’t have pushed her to elaborate, mostly because I didn’t want to raise
uncomfortable subjects. But if we were going to root ourselves in friend territory once again, we
were going to have to stop dancing around the tough issues.

→“You tryin’ to let winter in here?”
I pushed off the door and headed across worn linoleum to the counter, which had been covered in
the 1970s by faux-wood-grain plastic, presumably to add an “authentic” pizzeria feel.
“If I was trying,” I said, “you’d know it.” I put my elbows on the counter and took a good, hard
look at the man behind it. He was older, late sixties, with a thick head of black hair and eyes that
sparkled mischievously. He wore a heather gray sweatshirt with SAUL’S PIZZA across the front in
faded red letters.

→“What in God’s name was that?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. But I’m going to check it out. Stay in here and lock the door behind me until I’m sure
what it is.”

→After a moment, she linked her fingers together and gazed at me with motherly concern. “You don’t
think you’re moving too quickly with him?”

→Her eyes widened. “And I thought we’d start with some awkward ‘How’s your family’ type stuff.”
She paused, looked down at the table, then up at me again. “You’re living together?”
I nodded, waiting while she processed the information and reached a conclusion.

→“He didn’t buy them, but he has no complaints.” I cleared my throat nervously, preparing for the
confession I hadn’t yet made to her. “I don’t know if you heard, but we’re actually living together. I
moved into his apartments.”

→“Cold out there tonight.”
“Freezing,” she agreed. “I like your coat.”
“Thanks,” I said, unbuttoning it, then adding it to the stack on the seat. “It was a gift.” And since I
was proud of them, I stuck out a leg beside the booth and showed off my boots.
“Hello, gorgeous,” Mallory quietly said, sliding a finger along one leathered shin. “If he’s buying
you gear like that, I certainly hope you’re sleeping with him.”
She looked back at me and grinned, and I saw—for a moment—the old Mallory in her eyes. Relief
rushed through my chest.