Natatazz: переводы

→Bones stared at me. “You’re right. Only Charles knew where we were bound to when we left his house. I don’t reckon he ran an ad about it. Marie knew after we arrived. That leaves few people who could have informed Gregor, and they’re all in this car.”

→“Kathleen Smith.” I scoffed at the thought that my uncle would be so stupid as to use my real name. “And if you factor in the time frame, just a day from me telling him where we were, it doesn’t fit. We know Gregor was in Paris and London when we were there, so he’d have to have left soon after we did to make it here. That rules out Don.”

→Bones made an irritable noise. “Unless one of Marie’s people went behind her back—and that’s unlikely—or one of mine did, I’m at a loss.” His fingers drummed on his leg. “Perhaps Don had a hand in it. What name did he use to have those pills delivered to my home, Kitten?”

→In this new SUV, at least there was more room than the last two cars. In case we were being followed, we’d switched vehicles three times. Bones glared the unknowing other drivers into submission while we hijacked their ride. It was done so quickly, a tail would have to have been right on top of us to catch it. There had been no sign of Gregor yet, and we were almost to Fort Worth.

→I didn’t ask the question until much later. Truth be told, I hadn’t felt like talking after seeing Gregor. Neither had Bones, from his grim silence. The sun was up. Liza still drove. Ghouls weren’t as susceptible to morning tiredness as vampires were. Hopscotch and Band-Aid slept, dark sunglasses fixed over their eyes.

→The door slamming cut off the rest of Gregor’s statement. So did Liza’s peeling out of the narrow street like a drunken Tony Stewart. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t be tempted to look back.

→“And farewell to you, Dreamsnatcher,” Bones went on as he got into the van. “I hope you enjoyed tonight, because it’s the last you’ll see of her.”

→I climbed inside the vehicle, avoiding that smoky green gaze.

→Bones inclined his head without turning around. “Get in the van, Kitten. Hopscotch, Band-Aid, you, too. Majestic, I hope more of Gregor’s ignorant ramblings won’t sway your judgment in the future.”

→He returned quickly. The glass with red liquid he gave to Marie with a bow, and the round one filled with clear liquid went to me. I hefted it at my host in salute and swallowed in a long gulp. Gin and tonic, no surprise there.

→“You asked me before what I wanted, Marie. I want to go home with Bones and be left alone by everyone for about ten years. I don’t remember Gregor, but even if I did, it wouldn’t change how I feel about Bones. If it’s a fight Gregor or you wants by trying to force me to be with him, you’ll get it.”

→Marie set her knitting down. Guess that meant we were getting serious. “Right now, I believe you don’t truly know if you bound yourself to Gregor. If it’s proven, however, that you are his wife instead of Bones’s, I will ally myself with Gregor according to our laws. That’s my answer in this matter.”

→Be careful. Very careful. “Like I said, why are all his claims hinging on my memory? It could easily be a ploy to get me within snatching range, then it would be may the fastest man win.”

→“Great movie, wasn’t it?” I didn’t move to sit because I hadn’t been invited to. “One of my favorites. The first film, anyway. Didn’t care for the other two.”

→That dessert drawl again, Southern Creole and sweet. If ears could digest verbal calories, my ass would’ve been getting fat just listening to her. And with that single word, she’d just recited the next part of the movie Matrix, which I’d quoted.

→Marie was seated in an overstuffed chair, possibly a La-Z-Boy, bent over nothing more threatening than needlework. She had on a black dress with a white shawl thrown over her shoulders. On her feet were smart little heels that could have been Prada. With her shoulder-length dark hair curling around lightly made-up features, I had a weird flashback to a scene in a movie. She could have been bent over cookies, saying, “Smell good, don’t they?” while I broke a vase that wasn’t really there.

→As stated on her headstone some seventy yards away, Marie Laveau had died in 1881. Beyond that, her being a ghoul and her reputation with voodoo was all I knew. Bones hadn’t wanted to go into detail in her own backyard, so to speak. His caution spoke volumes about the person coming more clearly into view with my every step. From what I had heard about Marie, I half expected her to be seated on a throne, turbaned, with a headless chicken in one hand and a shrunken skull in the other. What I saw made me blink.