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Meyer Stephenie - Eclipse Eclipse

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Фантастика и фэнтези

Детективы и триллеры

Проза

Любовные романы

Приключения

Детские

Поэзия и драматургия

Старинная литература

Научно-образовательная

Компьютеры и интернет

Справочная литература

Документальная литература

Религия и духовность

Юмор

Дом и семья

Деловая литература

Жанр не определен

Техника

Прочее

Драматургия

Фольклор

Военное дело

Последние комментарии
оксана2018-11-27
Вообще, я больше люблю новинки литератур
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Professor2018-11-27
Очень понравилась книга. Рекомендую!
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Vera.Li2016-02-21
Миленько и простенько, без всяких интриг
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ст.ст.2018-05-15
 И что это было?
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Наталья222018-11-27
Сюжет захватывающий. Все-таки читать кни
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Eclipse - Meyer Stephenie - Страница 36


36
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11 LEGENDS

“ARE YOU GONNA EAT THAT HOT DOG?” PAUL ASKED JAcob, his eyes locked on the last remnant of the huge meal the werewolves had consumed.

Jacob leaned back against my knees and toyed with the hot dog he had spitted on a straightened wire hanger; the flames at the edge of the bonfire licked along its blistered skin. He heaved a sigh and patted his stomach. It was somehow still flat, though I’d lost count of how many hot dogs he’d eaten after his tenth. Not to mention the super-sized bag of chips or the two-liter bottle of root beer.

“I guess,” Jake said slowly. “I’m so full I’m about to puke, but I think I can force it down. I won’t enjoy it at all, though.” He sighed again sadly.

Despite the fact that Paul had eaten at least as much as Jacob, he glowered and his hands balled up into fists.

“Sheesh.” Jacob laughed. “Kidding, Paul. Here.”

He flipped the homemade skewer across the circle. I expected it to land hot-dog-first in the sand, but Paul caught it neatly on the right end without difficulty.

Hanging out with no one but extremely dexterous people all the time was going to give me a complex.

“Thanks, man,” Paul said, already over his brief fit of temper.

The fire crackled, settling lower toward the sand. Sparks blew up in a sudden puff of brilliant orange against the black sky. Funny, I hadn’t noticed that the sun had set. For the first time, I wondered how late it had gotten. I’d lost track of time completely.

It was easier being with my Quileute friends than I’d expected.

While Jacob and I had dropped off my bike at the garage — and he had admitted ruefully that the helmet was a good idea that he should have thought of himself — I’d started to worry about showing up with him at the bonfire, wondering if the werewolves would consider me a traitor now. Would they be angry with Jacob for inviting me? Would I ruin the party?

But when Jacob had towed me out of the forest to the clifftop meeting place — where the fire already roared brighter than the cloud-obscured sun — it had all been very casual and light.

“Hey, vampire girl!” Embry had greeted me loudly. Quil had jumped up to give me a high five and kiss me on the cheek. Emily had squeezed my hand when we’d sat on the cool stone ground beside her and Sam.

Other than a few teasing complaints — mostly by Paul — about keeping the bloodsucker stench downwind, I was treated like someone who belonged.

It wasn’t just kids in attendance, either. Billy was here, his wheelchair stationed at what seemed the natural head of the circle. Beside him on a folding lawn chair, looking quite brittle, was Quil’s ancient, white-haired grandfather, Old Quil. Sue Clearwater, widow of Charlie’s friend Harry, had a chair on his other side; her two children, Leah and Seth, were also there, sitting on the ground like the rest of us. This surprised me, but all three were clearly in on the secret now. From the way Billy and Old Quil spoke to Sue, it sounded to me like she’d taken Harry’s place on the council. Did that make her children automatic members of La Push’s most secret society?

I wondered how horrible it was for Leah to sit across the circle from Sam and Emily. Her lovely face betrayed no emotion, but she never looked away from the flames. Looking at the perfection of Leah’s features, I couldn’t help but compare them to Emily’s ruined face. What did Leah think of Emily’s scars, now that she knew the truth behind them? Did it seem like justice in her eyes?

Little Seth Clearwater wasn’t so little anymore. With his huge, happy grin and his long, gangly build, he reminded me very much of a younger Jacob. The resemblance made me smile, and then sigh. Was Seth doomed to have his life change as drastically as the rest of these boys? Was that future why he and his family were allowed to be here?

The whole pack was there: Sam with his Emily, Paul, Embry, Quil, and Jared with Kim, the girl he’d imprinted upon.

My first impression of Kim was that she was a nice girl, a little shy, and a little plain. She had a wide face, mostly cheekbones, with eyes too small to balance them out. Her nose and mouth were both too broad for traditional beauty. Her flat black hair was thin and wispy in the wind that never seemed to let up atop the cliff.

That was my first impression. But after a few hours of watching Jared watch Kim, I could no longer find anything plain about the girl.

The way he stared at her! It was like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. Like a collector finding an undiscovered Da Vinci, like a mother looking into the face of her newborn child.

His wondering eyes made me see new things about her — how her skin looked like russet-colored silk in the firelight, how the shape of her lips was a perfect double curve, how white her teeth were against them, how long her eyelashes were, brushing her cheek when she looked down.

Kim’s skin sometimes darkened when she met Jared’s awed gaze, and her eyes would drop as if in embarrassment, but she had a hard time keeping her eyes away from his for any length of time.

Watching them, I felt like I better understood what Jacob had told me about imprinting before — it’s hard to resist that level of commitment and adoration.

Kim was nodding off now against Jared’s chest, his arms around her. I imagined she would be very warm there.

“It’s getting late,” I murmured to Jacob.

“Don’t start that yet,” Jacob whispered back — though certainly half the group here had hearing sensitive enough to hear us anyway. “The best part is coming.”

“What’s the best part? You swallowing an entire cow whole?”

Jacob chuckled his low, throaty laugh. “No. That’s the finale. We didn’t meet just to eat through a week’s worth of food. This is technically a council meeting. It’s Quil’s first time, and he hasn’t heard the stories yet. Well, he’s heard them, but this will be the first time he knows they’re true. That tends to make a guy pay closer attention. Kim and Seth and Leah are all first-timers, too.”

“Stories?”

Jacob scooted back beside me, where I rested against a low ridge of rock. He put his arm over my shoulder and spoke even lower into my ear.

“The histories we always thought were legends,” he said. “The stories of how we came to be. The first is the story of the spirit warriors.”

It was almost as if Jacob’s soft whisper was the introduction. The atmosphere changed abruptly around the low-burning fire. Paul and Embry sat up straighter. Jared nudged Kim and then pulled her gently upright.

Emily produced a spiral-bound notebook and a pen, looking exactly like a student set for an important lecture. Sam twisted just slightly beside her — so that he was facing the same direction as Old Quil, who was on his other side — and suddenly I realized that the elders of the council here were not three, but four in number.

Leah Clearwater, her face still a beautiful and emotionless mask, closed her eyes — not like she was tired, but as if to help her concentration. Her brother leaned in toward the elders eagerly.

The fire crackled, sending another explosion of sparks glittering up against the night.

Billy cleared his throat, and, with no more introduction than his son’s whisper, began telling the story in his rich, deep voice. The words poured out with precision, as if he knew them by heart, but also with feeling and a subtle rhythm. Like poetry performed by its author.

“The Quileutes have been a small people from the beginning,” Billy said. “And we are a small people still, but we have never disappeared. This is because there has always been magic in our blood. It wasn’t always the magic of shape-shifting — that came later. First, we were spirit warriors.”

Never before had I recognized the ring of majesty that was in Billy Black’s voice, though I realized now that this authority had always been there.

Emily’s pen sprinted across the sheets of paper as she tried to keep up with him.

“In the beginning, the tribe settled in this harbor and became skilled ship builders and fishermen. But the tribe was small, and the harbor was rich in fish. There were others who coveted our land, and we were too small to hold it. A larger tribe moved against us, and we took to our ships to escape them.

“Kaheleha was not the first spirit warrior, but we do not remember the stories that came before his. We do not remember who was the first to discover this power, or how it had been used before this crisis. Kaheleha was the first great Spirit Chief in our history. In this emergency, Kaheleha used the magic to defend our land.

“He and all his warriors left the ship — not their bodies, but their spirits. Their women watched over the bodies and the waves, and the men took their spirits back to our harbor.

“They could not physically touch the enemy tribe, but they had other ways. The stories tell us that they could blow fierce winds into their enemy’s camps; they could make a great screaming in the wind that terrified their foes. The stories also tell us that the animals could see the spirit warriors and understand them; the animals would do their bidding.

“Kaheleha took his spirit army and wreaked havoc on the intruders. This invading tribe had packs of big, thick-furred dogs that they used to pull their sleds in the frozen north. The spirit warriors turned the dogs against their masters and then brought a mighty infestation of bats up from the cliff caverns. They used the screaming wind to aid the dogs in confusing the men. The dogs and bats won. The survivors scattered, calling our harbor a cursed place. The dogs ran wild when the spirit warriors released them. The Quileutes returned to their bodies and their wives, victorious.

“The other nearby tribes, the Hohs and the Makahs, made treaties with the Quileutes. They wanted nothing to do with our magic. We lived in peace with them. When an enemy came against us, the spirit warriors would drive them off.

“Generations passed. Then came the last great Spirit Chief, Taha Aki. He was known for his wisdom, and for being a man of peace. The people lived well and content in his care.

“But there was one man, Utlapa, who was not content.”

A low hiss ran around the fire. I was too slow to see where it came from. Billy ignored it and went on with the legend.

“Utlapa was one of Chief Taha Aki’s strongest spirit warriors — a powerful man, but a grasping man, too. He thought the people should use their magic to expand their lands, to enslave the Hohs and the Makahs and build an empire.

“Now, when the warriors were their spirit selves, they knew each other’s thoughts. Taha Aki saw what Utlapa dreamed, and was angry with Utlapa. Utlapa was commanded to leave the people, and never use his spirit self again. Utlapa was a strong man, but the chief’s warriors outnumbered him. He had no choice but to leave. The furious outcast hid in the forest nearby, waiting for a chance to get revenge against the chief.