Laney: переводы

→“I’m thinking there might be a short list of places I’ll be moving to.” I shivered, both from the cold and the memories, and he draped his worn suit jacket over my bare shoulders.

→“The jury has spoken,” said Hannibal. “Six to six. We have a tie.”

→“Here we go,” murmured Roman.

→The votes were collected by the bailiff. He sorted them into two suspiciously similarly sized piles and handed them to the judge. Hannibal did a quick count and nodded to himself before addressing us. A new stillness fell over the room.

→The jury cast votes anonymously, which I found interesting. It was a small nod toward impartiality, theoretically providing protection to those who voted against their side’s best interests. From what both Roman and Marcel had told me, I could see it happening among the angels. But did it ever happen with demons? Even if they knew the right or wrong of a situation, their ultimate goal was to accrue souls for Hell. Would any of them be moved by a case enough to go with their conscience? Was it possible that some spark of goodness could still endure in the darkness of this place? Judging from the quick way everyone scrawled their responses on the pieces of paper given, it didn’t look like it. There was no hesitation. The demons wore cocky, self-assured expressions. Angels and demons came from the same stock, but I’d been told that once they spent enough time in Hell, that angelic nature was eroded away. These demons weren’t going to lose any sleep about what became of my soul.

→Hannibal clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Risking it all for the new car, eh? Well, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, it falls in your hands now. You’ve heard the evidence—and lack thereof. Do you believe there is enough ‘proof’ to support the petitioner’s case? Should both contracts—that these individuals willingly signed—be invalidated?” So much for justice being blind.

→Hannibal called the court back to order, and Roman relayed my decision.

→“I do.” If we failed here, I wouldn’t just lose my soul. I would also be looking forward to an eternity in Hell’s service, with superiors none-too-pleased that I’d shaken up the status quo. I didn’t doubt that there was some article or clause somewhere that said I couldn’t be penalized for this, but as I’d noted before, Hell had plenty of ways of punishing people off the record. The Las Vegas position would probably no longer exist, forcing me to relocate to some truly terrible location.

→“Maybe in an American court of law,” he whispered back. “Here? Everyone just gets out their argument when they can, and it’s up to the judge to keep order.”

→“Doris?” Hannibal glanced over at the woman with the laptop. She produced a heavy, metal box from underneath her desk with what appeared to be a numeric lock. After first consulting her laptop, she punched in a long series of digits. Smoke seeped out of the edges of the box. A moment later, she opened it up and produced a long, ornate scroll. She glanced at the judge.

→Hannibal waved his hands dismissively. “Well, we haven’t even proved there’s anything wrong with hers, so let’s settle that before we start doing favors for others.”

→“So,” said Judge Hannibal. “You’ve got some kind of gripe with your contract. Join the club.” Low chuckles from the demonic spectators rumbled around the room.

→The next thing I noticed was that I wasn’t in the body I’d just been in. My perspective on the world was from a greater height. The weight of my limbs and muscles felt different too, and I wore a simple linen dress instead of my Unholy Rollers shirt. Although I couldn’t see myself straight-on, I had a good idea which body I was wearing: the first one. My mortal one. The one I’d been born to.

→“If your crappy shirts are going to say ‘Unholy Rollers,’ shouldn’t you at least be rolling the ball? That was more of a caber toss.”

→“What’s with that color? It’s like a reject from a boy’s baby shower.”

→“Did you pick that up at a thrift store? Oh, wait, they screen their items first. They’d never take a piece of shit like that.”

→Nonetheless, something started clicking for me. I was a long way from being a pro anytime soon, but between me, Cody, and Hugh, we slowly began to keep up with Nanette’s team. It was so subtle and so gradual that when we won by two points, everyone—including my teammates and me—could hardly believe it had happened. We all stared at the scoreboard in stunned silence. Only Carter was able to get anything out.

→Tiara soon became the least of our worries as her teammates took their turns. Strikes and spares all around, quickly surpassing our mix of erratic spares and . . . whatever it was Peter threw. As we moved further into the game, I glanced over at Jerome and saw that his smile had vanished, as had his cocky good mood. At least I could feel confident it had nothing to do with my contract.

→“Oh my God,” I muttered. “This is why I hate other succubi.” I could almost give Hell credit for finding me the only appealing one in Vegas, even if it had been part of a more elaborate scheme.

→Noticing our consternation, Tiara favored us all with a glossy-lipped smile. “We can call it quits right now if you want. We can go back to my hotel and have a party.” She tossed her highlighted curls over one shoulder, and her gaze rested on me. “I can also give you some styling advice if you want.”