W.I.T.C.H. Иллюзии и ложь (книга 6) ("Illusions and Lies")

Пока только первая глава, но впечатление составить можно (честно взята с www.hyperionbooksforchildren.com). Кстати, она на инглише (скоро переведу и выложу русский вариант, хотя и так понятно ;) ).

Глава 1

Taranee Cook groaned as she crept across the lawn on her hands and knees. She just knew she was getting grass stains on her favorite purple jeans. What's more, her round glasses kept slipping down her nose, and the beaded ends of her long braids trailed in the dirt.
I would give anything to abandon this mission, Taranee thought with a sigh. If only I could!
And what is my mission? Taranee thought, flicking a ticklish blade of grass away from her nose. Conjuring up a fireball in the palm of my hand, perhaps, to toss at some slimy, blue monster? Or using my magic to close a gateway between earth and a faraway, evil universe? Maybe I have to escape the clutches of Elyon, a girl who used to be my friend, but is now this otherworldly princess of darkness.
Or maybe, Taranee thought with a rueful laugh, I simply have to save the world.
It could have been any of the above. Not too long ago, Taranee had been transformed from an ordinary girl -- your average shutterbug and shy new student at the Sheffield Institute -- into a Guardian of the Veil.
This Veil was not bridal nor made of lace. This Veil was made of bigger stuff. In fact, it covered the entire world! It was a cosmic barrier that separated earth -- otherwise known as home of the good guys -- from Metamoor, an unknown, primitive land populated by reptilian creatures. Many of the creatures looked like massive lizards, albeit ones who dressed in suede tunics. Others were blue giants with craggy, rocklike horns upon their heads. Still others had red eyes, dreadlocks, and stolid bodies clad in rhinoesque armor.
It's like a bad horror movie, right? Taranee asked herself with an incredulous, dry laugh.
Not really. Many of those creatures were as kind and caring as any human. They cooked meals, raised their kids, and built thatched-roof homes, like any other old-fashioned townspeople. The only difference between them and the residents of Heatherfield -- the hip, seaside city where Taranee lived -- was in their form of government.
Make that dictatorship.
A cloud of oppression kept Metamoor in gloomy shadows. The person responsible for that state of affairs was a brutal prince named Phobos -- a young man so vain only a select few were allowed to gaze upon his face.
With nobody to rein his evil self in, Phobos used Metamoor for his own pleasure. He hoarded all the planet's natural resources to create an Eden for himself. He left his people to toil in hardscrabble villages. He stole not only their sunshine but their hope.
And was that enough? Not even. Phobos and his evil minions also wanted a piece of earth.
Boy, Taranee thought as she shifted her position on the grass. If I thought Metamoor was hard to conceive of, Candracar is positively preposterous.
Candracar existed "in the middle of infinity." Taranee's image of it was filled with clouds, looming temples, and beatific specters in gossamer cloaks. But that was all speculation. Taranee had never been to Candracar. It was as fantastic to her as fairyland.
The Veil was proof that hope existed. Someone in Candracar had created the Veil. And for centuries, it had kept Metamoorians away from earth, and vice versa. Nobody could stop the dawning of the millennium. When the year 2000 struck, the Veil had weakened. Twelve fissures had opened in the barrier. Eventually, those cracks had become portals, which were sort of cosmic superhighways between earth and Metamoor.
Taranee shuddered at the thought of those strange tunnels running from one galaxy to the next. She had traveled through a couple of portals and, each time, it had been an exceedingly rough ride!
The problem was, Taranee wasn't the only one traveling by portal. Some of Phobos's followers had been using them, too -- to try to invade earth.
That was why Taranee had been anointed with magical powers. She had been given the role of fire starter, able to whip up flames, redirect a rocket, or quell a forest fire, all with little more than mere determination.
Taranee's best friends had been brought on board, too. Irma was all about water, and Hay Lin was all things air. Cornelia controlled the earth, and Will was their leader, the keeper of the glowy orb called the Heart of Candracar. Whenever she unleashed the glass pendant's powers, the girls were transformed into beautiful, knowing, young women -- complete with mod, winged, purple-and-turquoise outfits. Their club even had a cool title: the names Will, Irma, Taranee, Cornelia, and Hay Lin, spelled W.i.t.c.h.
Some parts of being a Guardian, Taranee had to admit, were fun.
I mean, she thought with a shrug, at first I was freaked about being, well, magical. But soon, I realized conjuring fire was kinda . . . cool!
Of course, with magic powers came magic responsibilities -- daunting ones, at that.
Their job as members of W.i.t.c.h. was to close every portal that had erupted between earth and Metamoor. And with monsters constantly breaking through those openings, the task wasn't always that easy!
To add insult to injury, the girls' former friend, Elyon, had been swayed into defecting to Metamoor. A cute-boy-turned-snaky-Metamoorian named Cedric had told Elyon she was Phobos's sister. According to Cedric's story, the infant Elyon had been snatched away from Metamoor to be raised as a humble human child on earth. Elyon had been filled with rage when she discovered how many years of royal treatment had been denied her. She'd tried to get her friends to cross over to Metamoor's dark side with her, and, when they had refused, she had become their enemy. In fact, it seemed she was there to sabotage their mission every time the Guardians turned around.
Just the thought of it made Taranee's narrow shoulders sag with weariness. But as she inched farther along on the lawn, she realized that, at that moment at least, she had nothing to worry about.
There's no way, she thought with a shrug, that Elyon would care at all about my current mission.
Because, at the moment, Taranee wasn't closing a portal or saving the world.
No, she was crawling across the grass in front of her school doing a homework assignment -- and an especially gross one at that!
"Why, why, why," she muttered, "did I have to go and tell my biology teacher that I love photography?"
She lapsed into the breathy, nasal voice of her teacher. "'Good, Taranee,'" she mimicked. "'Take pictures of three bugs and write a report, dear.'"
"Ugh," Taranee shuddered, speaking now in her own voice -- which was throaty and always on the quiet side. "There's only one little problem with this assignment. Bugs totally skeeve me out!"
Clenching her teeth in disgust, Taranee uncapped her camera lens and lifted the camera to her bespectacled eye. She slowly scanned the lawn. The blades of grass were as big as elephant ears by now. And, sure enough, nestled among them, she discovered a grotesque beetle. Its antennae quivered and danced in the brisk morning breeze.
"Ewww!" Taranee squealed, lowering the camera quickly. "I think it's time to ditch the zoom lens!" Bugs weren't meant to be big.
She unscrewed the lens -- a fabulous gadget that her dad had given her for her last birthday. The gift had been a no-brainer for her psychologist dad. He was all about self-expression, and he jumped at every opportunity to draw Taranee out of her shell, especially since the Cook family had moved to Heatherfield only recently. His thinking: what's a better ice-breaker than shooting a close-up of someone?
The thought made Taranee smile. She should tell her dad she'd been doing just fine in the friendship department, even without her camera. She and Will had become soul mates even before they found out they were destined to save the world together. And she felt a real connection with the other Guardians, too. That part surprised her. Will was shy like her, but the other girls weren't, in the slightest.
After all, we're as different as, well, earth, water, wind, and fire, Taranee thought, with a little giggle. Irma's this bouncy flirt who's more at home at the mall than in any math class. Cornelia's tall, elegant, and completely poised. Meanwhile, Hay Lin's a tiny little thing who'd be bouncing off the walls even if she didn't have jet-puffs of air on her side.
But somehow, Taranee mused, we all seem to fit together. We're a team.
Now, she thought, as she fitted a less . . . bug-eyed lens onto her camera, if only I could get my friends to help me with this assignment!
Curling her lip in disgust, Taranee gazed through the viewfinder again. And once again, she gasped. But this time, it wasn't in disgust! She'd somehow homed right in on the only non-gross bug nature had to offer -- a butterfly! It was perched on a blade of grass, its iridescent blue wings fluttering lazily.
"My savior!" Taranee whispered with a grin. She inched forward on her elbows to get a better angle.
"Stop just a minute, pretty little thing," Taranee murmured as she twisted her lens for a better focus. She almost had the perfect shot!
"Stop," Taranee crooned again to the delicate insect. "Don't move your wings and . . ."
Taranee's finger was just closing on the shutter when suddenly, the butterfly flitted away in fright! In its place, a big, dirty, red object landed in the grass with a rude whomp.
Through her camera, Taranee now found herself staring at a very floppy, and very stinky, red high top. It was the kind of decrepit sneaker that could only belong to . . . a boy.
Taranee scowled and looked up. First she saw a saggy, dark sock. Then a pair of knobby knees and some baggy, brown shorts. Finally, she found herself gazing at the thin-lipped sneer of . . .
"Uriah!" Taranee cried.
Ugh, she thought. If it's not blue monsters popping out of portals, it's that needle-nosed Uriah.
Uriah was the king of the Outfielders -- the burnouts and brutes that lurked on the fringes of the Sheffield Institute's social order. They were bullies who found every opportunity to dis the popular kids and the science geeks alike.
Uriah was an Outfielder extraordinaire -- the equal-opportunity abuser type. He tortured In-fielders, jocks, small animals . . . even his own loyal gang members! Taranee had spied on Uriah and seen him leading his gang around like a prison guard. The big brute Laurent, with his buzz-cut hair, and potbellied Kurt seemed only too happy to be Uriah's yes-men. It was pathetic.
But Nigel, the fourth member of Uriah's gang, seemed different. He didn't sport anything like Uriah's greasy zits or Kurt and Laurent's dopey attitudes. In fact, the last time Taranee had peeked at Nigel, he'd looked practically perfect. His silky, brown hair fell in casual waves to his chin, which was strong and scruffiness-free.
What really got to Taranee were Nigel's brown eyes. They were as soft and sad as an abandoned puppy's.
And with good reason, Taranee thought, as she glared up at Uriah. The whole gang had recently gotten into major trouble. It had all started when Irma had gone to the Heatherfield Museum. As often happened when Irma hit the town, the gregarious girl ran into someone she knew. But this time it was no friendly acquaintance. It was a lizard from Metamoor! It turned out that the museum was home to a portal!
While the Guardians were busy dealing with the Veil's latest fissure, word had gotten out about the strange creature at the museum. Uriah had been as drawn to the rumor as a rat is to cheese. He'd goaded his gang into breaking into the museum in the middle of the night for a little monster hunt.
Naturally, the guys had been snagged by security. They'd been brought to the police station, where they'd faced Judge Theresa Cook -- otherwise known as Taranee's mother!
Taranee's mom had ordered the gang to do a year of community service in the very museum they'd infiltrated. Soon afterward, Taranee had seen Nigel there, wearing the telltale orange jumpsuit of a kid doing time.
As Nigel had dusted sculptures and swept the museum floors, Taranee had caught his gaze from across a gallery full of paintings. She could still remember the sensation. All the beautiful artwork had melted from her peripheral vision. Nigel's ugly jumpsuit had faded into a blur, too. Taranee had seen only Nigel's brown eyes -- eyes that were kind and pretty and . . . crinkled up in a shy smile. At her!
Now, here on Sheffield's front lawn, those eyes were focused on her again. Nigel had arrived on the scene with Kurt and Laurent, right after Uriah. But this time, Nigel wasn't smiling.
When Uriah shoved his oily face into Taranee's -- totally blocking her view of cute Nigel -- she realized why her crush looked so stricken. Uriah hadn't just stumbled upon Taranee. No -- she was his target!
"Look who's here," Uriah growled. "The judge's daughter."
Normally, that would have been the moment when Taranee melted into a puddle. Confrontation had never been her bag. What could she say? Battling the forces of evil with immense stores of her own magic had boosted her confidence.
So instead of caving, she merely glared at Uriah and demanded, "What do you want?"
"Only to tell you that, thanks to your mother, we'll be spending the next year in that stupid museum," Uriah snarled. "Cleaning galleries, dusting artwork, and doing other ridiculous chores."
While Taranee responded with a scornful smirk, Nigel stepped forward and placed a placating hand on Uriah's arm.
"C'mon, dude," he said, haltingly. "Kids are starting to show up."
"Shut up, Nigel," Uriah spat, without releasing Taranee from his glare. When she glared back, unintimidated, Uriah reached out and cupped her chin in his rough fingers. Taranee held her breath.
"I only want this little girl to understand who she's dealing with," Uriah continued. "After all, her family has just arrived in town. She might not get --"
"There are tons of people on the stairs!" Nigel said with alarm.
The next thing Taranee knew, a familiar voice had invaded the space.
"Wassup, Taranee?"
Uriah jumped. His hands unclenched and fell to his sides. He replaced his threatening glare with a mere sneer. Then he turned around to see who had come to Taranee's rescue.
Imagine his surprise when the hero turned out to be a spindly Asian girl with long pigtails and goofy, purple goggles perched atop her head.
A girl, moreover, who was completely alone.
"Tons of people?" Uriah sputtered. He glared accusingly at Nigel. "I see one little girl, you idiot."
Nigel shot Taranee a furtive glance. Then he shrugged at Uriah and said sullenly, "From here, it looked like more."
Taranee felt a burst of warmth fill her chest. Nigel had totally rescued her! He'd spotted Hay Lin and spoken up loudly enough to attract her attention. Then he had lied to Uriah to protect her. He was so romantic!
He was also, clearly, one of the good guys. Taranee just knew it. The only mystery was -- what was he doing hanging out with these creeps?
There was no time to ask him.
"C'mon, boys," Uriah ordered his crew. "We'll continue this conversation another time."
The group shuffled off.
As Taranee gazed after them -- well, after Nigel -- she felt a small hand alight upon her shoulder.
"Everything all right, Taranee?" Hay Lin asked her. Her eyes, usually dancing with fun, were dark with concern. "Were they bothering you?"
"It's all right, now," Taranee said with a grateful smile. It seemed that whenever she got into a bind these days -- whether she was late to history class or kidnapped and imprisoned in dark Metamoor -- her fellow Guardians popped up at her side. Taranee felt as though she could count on them for anything.
Well . . . almost anything.
"Those guys were just blowing off steam," Taranee said, turning from Hay Lin to watch the gang stomp away. Nigel was trailing behind them. In fact, he was stopping altogether. Taranee watched him take a deep breath, then brush a shock of glossy hair out of his eyes as he turned to peek backward.
He was looking for Taranee!
Once again, she caught the boy's shy gaze.
With her heart in her throat, Taranee wondered what to do. She knew what the old Taranee would have done. She'd have ducked behind the safety of her camera. Or quickly darted beneath a tree to stick her nose in a book. She would have flown away just like one of the skittish insects darting around the lawn.
But now, things were different. She had fire in the palm of her hand. And she had her friend, Hay Lin, at her side.
So . . . Taranee shot Nigel a smile -- not a big one, mind you -- but broad enough to show, she hoped, that she was smitten.
Nigel returned her smile. Then he waved at her! Finally, regretfully, he turned to continue plodding after his crew.
Taranee closed her eyes for a moment. She felt as though she'd just swallowed a spoonful of honey, followed by a shot of espresso! Who knew you could feel so gooey and so hyped at the same time? Not to mention . . . wistful.
"Yeah," she sighed to Hay Lin, as Nigel headed off. "Everything's okay, except for one little problem. How will I find my butterfly again?"

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