ticklish: переводы

→“Probation?” Butters asked.

→“Hmmm?” I asked. Driving the Rolls was like driving a tank. It had all kinds of momentum behind it, no power steering, and no power brakes. It was a vehicle that demanded that I pay my respects to the laws of physics and think a little bit further ahead than I otherwise might.

→“Damn right, no,” I said. “You’re going to play along, set Shagnasty up, and then take him out in the true, treacherous tradition of the White Court. You get Thomas back. You lay low a heavyweight. You gain status among your own folk.”

→“And by giving in to his demands, I avoid the appearance of weakness?” she asked skeptically. “No, Dresden.”

→The screaming stopped with a last stuttering burst of gunfire. The security guy came staggering around the corner. Blood matted his hair and covered half of his face. There was a long tear through his jacket on the left side. His left arm hung uselessly, but he still gripped the handle of his miniature assault weapon with his right. He wavered and dropped to one knee as he spotted the three vampires.

→No problem, I thought dully. Down is easy.

→Without any visible signal, they all started prowling forward at the same time–and it was a prowl, an atavistic, feline motion that carried what were very clearly predators forward in total silence. Lara paused when she reached me, glanced over my injuries with cold silver eyes and whispered, “Stay down.”

→The second seemed to be taller and more muscular than the other two. She wore what looked like a man’s shirt, closed with only a single button. Her long hair was a mess, still tousled from sleep, and she held an exotic looking axe in her hands, its blade honed along a concave edge instead of the more conventional convex one.

→The other two women were vampires as well, their pale skin shining with eerie beauty, their eyes glittering like polished silver coins–the sisters Justine had mentioned, I presumed. I guess I’d arrived in the middle of the night, vampire time, and gotten some people out of bed. The first sister wore nothing but weapons and silver body piercings, which gleamed on one eyebrow, one nostril, her lower lip, and her nipples. Her dark hair had been cropped close to her head except for where her bangs fell to veil one of her eyes, and she carried a pair of wavy bladed swords like Lara’s.

→I heard a soft sound behind me. I turned my head blearily toward the source of the noise and saw three pale, lithe forms drop silently from the floors above through the hole that the skinwalker had made. The first was Lara Raith. She’d torn her skirt up one side, almost all the way to her hip, and when she landed in a silent crouch, she looked cold and feral and dangerous with her sword in one hand and her machine pistol in the other.

→“I have always been of the opinion that romantic involvement was a vulnerability I could not afford. Not in my position.”

→Anastasia stepped in. “But they wouldn’t engage the White Council in this sort of business without your approval.” She smiled. “Such a thing would be seen as a challenge to your–to the authority of the White King.”

→“I’m hardly the only member of the White Court in the region, Dresden,” Lara said. “And while I’m flattered that you think so highly of me, the others of my kind do not love me so well as to consult with me before every action they take.”

→“In these parts?” I asked. “Why not?”

→“I took a look at her head,” I said. “And found the marks of the White Court all over it–including a compulsion not to reveal who she was working for.”

→“Stop being cute, Lara,” I said. “Your lawyer, Evelyn Derek, hired a private eye to tail me and report on my movements–and every time I turn around, something nasty has shown up to make a run at me.”

→She leaned back in her chair and a wicked little smile played over that mouth without ever getting as far as her eyes. “I see. I’m being intimidated. Are you going to tell me why, or do I get three guesses?”

→Lara Raith, de facto ruler of the White Court, sat behind the desk. She wore a silk business suit of purest white, cut close to the flawless lines of her body. The cut of the suit elegantly displayed her figure, and contrasted sharply with the long blue black hair, which hung in waves past her shoulders. Her features had the classically immortal beauty of Greek statues, balancing sheer beauty with strength, intelligence, and perception. Her eyes were a deep, warm grey, framed by thick sooty lashes, and just looking at her full soft mouth made my lips twitch and tingle as they demanded an introduction to Lara’s.

→Lara Raith’s office had a few things in common with Evelyn Derek’s. It had the same rich furnishings–though her style was more rich, dark hardwood than glass–the same clarity of function and purpose. The resemblance ended there. Lara’s office was a working office. Mail was stacked neatly on a corner of the desk. Files and envelopes each had their own specific positions upon her desk and the worktable against one wall. A pen and ink set was in evidence on the desktop. Paperwork anarchy threatened the room, but order had been strongly imposed, guided by an obvious will.

→“No, thank you,” Anastasia said, as we entered. Justine shut the door carefully behind us.