awrora: переводы

→That made it a whole different shooting match. “Why?” I asked. “I’m assuming he has a good reason.”

→“That’s okay,” I said. “Never mind.”

→“Surely Felipe wouldn’t let that happen.”

→There was so much disturbing about that, that I had a hard time thinking it through. “Vampires can’t eat,” I said. “What . . . ?”

→“Yes. I had asked her why she was so pleased she’d been sent to Area Five.”

→Eric nodded. “He has a bullshit excuse about there being enough vampires in my sheriffdom, when actually my numbers are low. The truth is that Victor will block us any way he can for as long as he can, in the hope that I’ll do something injudicious enough to warrant being removed as sheriff, or killed.”

→“Not about the bond, so he doesn’t know yet. He would have been on the phone instantly.” Eric leaned his head against the back of the couch, his blue eyes at half mast. Postcoital relaxation.

→For a few minutes, we talked about little things. He brushed my hair, which was in a terrible tangle, and I brushed his. (Monkeys searched each other for salt crystals, I believed. We groomed each other.) When I’d made his hair all smooth and shiny he draped my legs over his lap. His hand ran up and down them, from the hem of my shorts to my toes, over and over.

→And he was up on the porch with me, and then he was picking me up and kissing me, my lips, my neck, my shoulders. He held my feet off the ground and lifted me high enough that his mouth could find my breasts through my bra and T-shirt.

→“Do you really love me?” I said, out of either insanity or sheer curiosity. “Or have we just been through so much that you think you ought to?”

→I stepped back, and he dropped his arms instantly.

→Desmond Cataliades, attorney-at-law, your sponsor As Pam might say, “Fuck a zombie.” Mr. Cataliades was indeed my sponsor, the dark stranger who’d visited Gran. What did that mean? And he said he had read Amelia’s mind. Was he a telepath, too? Wasn’t that quite a coincidence? I had a feeling there was a lot to know about this, and though he’d only warned me about Sandra Pelt and using the cluviel dor, I got the distinct impression he was paving the way for a Big Bad Talk. I read over the message two more times hoping to extract some solid piece of information about the cluviel dor from it, but I had to conclude I got zilch.

→series of events you alter by magic can have unexpected repercussions in history. I’ll contact you again when I can, and perhaps stop by to explain more fully. Best wishes for your survival.

→I think you must have found the cluviel dor, since I plucked the term out of Miss Amelia’s head when I saw her at the shop. I don’t know where your grandmother hid it, I only know she was given one, because I gave it to her. If you have discovered it, I advise you to be very careful about its use. Think once, and twice, and three times before you expend its energy. You can change the world, you know. Any

→I got your message on my answering machine. I have been traveling so certain individuals cannot find me. I have many friends, but also many enemies. I am watching you closely, but I hope not intrusively. You’re the only person I know who has as many enemies as I. I’ve done the best I can to keep you a step ahead of that hellspawn Sandra Pelt. She’s not dead yet, though. Beware.

→Most of it was junk, but there was one from Amelia, sure enough, and one from Mr. Cataliades that had come two days before. Color me surprised.

→Amelia had certainly figured out how to get my attention. I took the cluviel dor out of the drawer and took it with me to the little desk in the living room where I’d put the computer. Yes, I had a lot of mail.

→“Yes,” he said. “Since you told me like a million times. No problem there. I’m calling to tell you I just got a very weird phone call from your friend Amelia. She said she was calling me because you wouldn’t want to talk to her. She said it was about that thing you found. She looked it up. The cluviel dor?” He sounded it out very carefully.

→“Mr. Khan?” I said politely. “Please come in. I’m Sookie Stackhouse, and these two guys are Dermot and Claude.” From Claude’s avid expression, I was not the only one who’d thought of chocolate chip cookies. Dermot only looked wary.

→“He ain’t bad, for a vamp,” Mustapha said grudgingly. “Bubba’s okay, too. The rest of ’em?” He spat. Subtle, but I got his drift.