Swee7: переводы

→<div class="fmtx1">She was maybe five-two, with a dimpled smile and dark, curly hair that fell to her waist. She was wearing a white blouse with a long, full white skirt and bright scarlet ballet slippers. The first thought that went through my head was <i class="calibre7">Awww, she’s tiny and adorable</i>—followed closely by the notion that she would be fastidious when blood was everywhere. I could just see her carefully lifting the hem of her pristine skirt so that only the scarlet slippers would touch it.</div>

→<p class="fmtx1">The skull just stared for a moment. Then he suggested lamely, “You were high?”</p>

→To Air, for introducing me to Mab by onion-colored light

→<p class="fmtx1">“I’m not really into this whole hero thing,” Mort said. “Don’t have the temperament for it. Don’t know a lot about the villain side of the equation, either.” He planted his feet, facing the Corpsetaker squarely, his hands clenched into fists at his side. “But it seems to me, you half-wit, that you probably shouldn’t have left a freaking <i class="calibre7">ectomancer</i> a pit full of wraiths to play with.”</p>

→<p class="fmtx1">Uriel watched me for a moment and then opened his mouth to speak, shaking his head a little as he did.</p>

→<p class="fmtx1">“I can’t talk to you about that,” he said. “What comes next is about faith, Harry. Not knowledge.”</p>

→<p class="fmtx1">“If you do,” Uriel said, his eyes intent and serious, “then you accept the consequences for all that you have done while alive. When judged, what you have done will be taken into account. Your fate, ultimately, will be determined by your actions in life.”</p>

→<p class="fmtx1">Mab had me.</p>

→<p class="fmtx1">Mab looked . . . not cadaverous. It wasn’t a word that applied. Her skin seemed stretched tight over her bones, her face distorted to inhuman proportions. Her emerald green eyes were inhumanly huge in that sunken face, her teeth unnaturally sharp. She brushed a hand over one of my cheeks, and her fingers looked too long, her nails grown out like claws. Her arms looked like nothing but bone and sinew with skin stretched over them, and her elbows were somehow too large, too swollen, to look even remotely human. Mab didn’t look like a cadaver. She looked like some kind of nearly starved insect, a praying mantis smiling down at its first meal in weeks.</p>

→<p class="fmtx1">I was in a cave, lit by wan, onion-colored light. I could see a roof of rock and earth, with roots of trees as thick as my waist trailing through here and there. Water dripped down from overhead, all around me. I could hear it. Some dropped onto my lips, and I licked at it. It tasted sweet, sweeter than double-thick cherry syrup, and I shivered in pleasure this time.</p>

→<p class="fmtx1">Uriel regarded me pleasantly. He said nothing. A lot.</p>

→<p>That faint smile appeared again, and Sir Stuart nodded once. Then he let out his breath in a sigh. He faded even more, and as I watched, his limbs simply renewed themselves, appearing as his shape became more translucent. The damage reversed itself before my eyes.</p>

→<p class="fmtx1">I refrained from hitting my own head with the heel of my hand, but just barely. “So it wasn’t much of a trick to turn it into a baby monitor. You just needed an old crystal radio.”</p>

→<p>Fabulous. Maybe I should make it my new slogan: <i class="calibre7">Harry Dresden—I take responsibility for more impossible situations in the first twenty-four hours of being dead than most people do all day.</i></p>

→<p class="fmtx"><b class="calibre8">I</b> found Stu’s pistol on the ground where I’d dropped it during the struggle. Then I followed Butters to his car—an old Plymouth Road Runner. It looked almost worse than my old VW Beetle had the last time I’d seen it. Dents and dings covered its all-steel frame, and some of them looked suspiciously like they’d been raked into the metal with a two-pronged claw—but its engine throbbed with impressive, harmonious power. Its license plates read: MEEPMEEP.</p>

→<p class="fmtx1">Butters blinked several times. He tried to talk for a few seconds, swallowed, and then said in a small voice, “Oh.” He eyed Bob sideways.</p>

→<p class="fmtx1">“Something,” the being said. “Meaning I’m not sure what. Something I’m not expert in, clearly.”</p>

→<p class="fmtx1">“Like what?” I asked.</p>

→<p class="fmtx1">I lifted my eyebrows. “I haven’t heard much about it.”</p>

→<p class="fmtx1">“For another old one,” I said. My voice issued out of the radio he slipped into a clip attached to the car’s sun visor.</p>