Julia95: переводы

→Amelie searched her memory. Ah, yes. Collins. There had been an incident, unfortunate as such things were, and she had dispatched operatives to see to the end of it when the elder Collins had taken his wife and son and left Morganville. "She should be dead by now," she said.

→She went back to the window, dismissing him from her thoughts. If he was inclined to dispute it, he thought better -- possibly because Vallery was not the only servant she had within a whisper's call -- and he withdrew from the field without surrender.

→She took out her cell phone and dialed without him saying a word, but closed it up after a moment. "Eve's phone goes to voicemail."

→###

→"You know what!"

→"Stop what?"

→That was the thing about Morganville. Nice place to visit, but you wouldn't want to live here. And honestly, Shane couldn't exactly define why it was he did live here. He could have left, he supposed. He had, once, and come back to do a job for his father, Fearless Frank the Vampire Hunter. But now, he stayed because -- because at least, in here, he understood things. He knew the rules, even if the rules were crappy and the game of survival was rigged.

→Not on this street, anyway.

→So, for you fortunate ones who’ve never set foot in this place, here’s the walking tour of Morganville: It’s home to a couple of thousand folks who breathe, and some crazy-ass number of people who don’t. Vampires. Can’t live with ’em, and in Morganville, you definitely can’t live without ’em, because they run the town. Other than that, Morganville’s a normal, dusty collection of buildings—the kind the oil boom of the ’60s and ’70s rolled by without dropping a dime in the banks. The university in the center of town acts like its own little city, complete with walls and gates.

→Living in West Texas is sort of like living in Hell, but without the favorable climate and charming people. Living in Morganville, Texas, is all that and a takeout bag of worse. I should know. My name is Shane Collins, and I was born here, left here, came back here—none of which I had much choice about.

→"Which boy?"

→"I was cheated."

→She was not in the habit of risking her life or position. Especially not for mere humans, whose lives blinked on and off as quickly as the streetlights below.

→If Oliver was right, she would have little choice.

→If Oliver was right, she would have little choice.

→Amelie folded her hands on the warm wood of the window ledge and stared at the faint glow of moonrise on the horizon.

→"Oh, children," she sighed. "What ever shall I do with you?"

→"No, Oliver, I want the right to make my own decisions in my own town." She stood, and Oliver stood too as if drawn on the same string. "You may go."

→Amelie sipped the last of her blood, and smiled. "I might," she said.

→"Then you want a war."