"The Hunters" - L.J. Smith

Sylwia151a

Jak poinformował portal vampire-diaries.net, pojawiły się dwie wersje okładki - amerykańska i brytyjska - pierwszego tomu nowej trylogii The Vampire Diaries zatytułowanej The Hunters (Łowcy). Pierwszy tom nosi tytuł Phantom (Upiór) i na zagranicznych półkach sklepowych pojawi się 25 października 2011. Książkę można już zamówić w przedsprzedaży na stronie Amazon - amerykańskiej i brytyjskiej. Do wyboru mamy okładkę z Meredith oraz z mroczniejszą-niż-zwykle Eleną.

Jeśli chodzi o samą trylogię The Hunters (Łowcy) - to odkąd L.J. Smith nie pisze już The Vampire Diaries, nie jesteśmy pewni w jakim stopniu oryginalna koncepcja (jak sugerowano na jej blogu) pozostanie nietknięta. Oto oficjalny opis z wydawnictwa HarperCollins:

Regularnie na listach narodowych bestsellerów, sprzedająca się w ponad trzech milionach kopii, seria The Vampire Diaries jest klasykiem, porywającym paranormalnym romansem. Seria The Vampire Diaries zdobyła serca i wyobraźnię czytelników - a serial stacji CW, który zainspirowała, wprowadził o miliony więcej deszczy, trwogi i zatrzymujących serce romansów. Phantom zaczyna nową trylogię z tej zapierającej dech w piersiach sagi o miłości wśród wampirów.

Od poznania wampirzych braci, którym nie można się oprzeć, Stefana i Damona Salvatore, Elena Gilbert odbyła podróż do piekła i z powrotem. Teraz, kiedy razem z przyjaciółmi ocaliła rodzinne miasto przed demonicznymi duchami, w końcu wszystko może wrócić do normalności. Ale Elena powinna wiedzieć lepiej, niż ktokolwiek inny, że Fell's Church nigdy nie będzie normalne. W Phantom nowe zagrożenie ma na celowniku Elenę. I tym razem może ona liczyć tylko na braci Salvatore [aby ją ochronili].

W tej chwili nie jest znana data polskiej premiery książki.

W sieci pojawił się fragment książki:

Sneak Peek
Elena Gilbert stepped onto a smooth expanse of grass, the spongy blades collapsing beneath
her feet. Clusters of scarlet roses and violet delphiniums pushed up from the ground while a
giant canopy hung above her, twinkling with glowing lanterns. On the terrace in front of her
stood two curving white marble fountains that shot sprays of water high into the air.
Everything was beautiful, and elegant, and somehow familiar.
This is Bloddeuwedd’s palace, a voice in her head said. But when she had been here last, the
field had been crowded with laughing, dancing partygoers. They were gone now, though
signs of their presence remained: empty glasses littering the tables set around the edges of
the lawn, a silken shawl tossed over a chair, a lone high-heeled shoe perched on the edge of a
fountain.
Something else was odd, too. Before, the scene had been lit by the hellish red light that
illuminated everything in the Dark Dimension, turning blues to purples, whites to pinks, and
pinks to the velvety color of blood. Now a clear white light shone over everything, and a full
white moon sailed calmly overhead.
A whisper of movement came from behind her, and Elena realized with a start that she
wasn’t alone after all. A dark figure was suddenly there, approaching her.
Damon.
Of course it was Damon, Elena thought with a smile. If anyone was going to appear
unexpectedly before her, here, at what felt like the end of the world—or at least the hour
after a good party had ended—it would be Damon. God, he was so beautiful. Black on black:
soft black hair, eyes black as midnight, black jeans, and a smooth leather jacket.
As their eyes met, she was so glad to see him that she could hardly breathe. She threw herself
into his embrace, clasping him around the neck.
She felt the lithe, hard muscles in his arms and chest as he held her tight.
“Damon,” she said, her voice trembling for some reason. Her body was trembling, too, and
Damon stroked her arms and shoulders, calming her.
“What is it, princess? Don’t tell me you’re afraid.” He smirked lazily at her, but his hands
were strong and steady.
“I am afraid,” she answered.
“But what are you afraid of?”
That left her puzzled for a moment. Then, slowly, putting her cheek against his, she said,
“I’m afraid that this is just a dream.”
“I’ll tell you a secret,” he said into her ear. “You and I are the only real things here. It’s
everything else that’s the dream.”
“Just you and I?” Elena echoed, an uneasy thought nagging at her, as though she was
forgetting something—or someone. A fleck of ash landed on her dress, and she absently
brushed it away.
“It’s just the two of us, Elena,” Damon said sharply. “You’re mine. I’m yours. We’ve always
loved each other, since the beginning of time.”
Of course. That must be why she was trembling—it was joy. He was hers. She was his. They
belonged together.
She whispered one word, “Yes.”
Then he kissed her.
His lips were soft as silk, and when the kiss deepened, she tilted her head back, exposing her
throat, anticipating the double wasp-sting he’d delivered so many times.
When it didn’t come, she opened her eyes questioningly. The moon was bright as ever, and
the scent of roses hung heavy in the air. But Damon’s chiseled features were pale under his
dark hair, and more ash had landed on the shoulders of his jacket. All at once, the little
doubts that had been niggling at her came into clear focus.
Oh, no. Oh, no.
“Damon,” she gasped, looking into his eyes despairingly as tears filled her own. “You can’t
be here, Damon. You’re . . . dead.”
“For more than five hundred years, princess.” Damon flashed his blinding smile at her. “I
don’t know why it’s such a shock to you.”
More ash was falling around them, like a fine gray rain. Like the ash Damon’s body was
buried beneath, worlds and dimensions away.
“Damon, you’re . . . dead now. Not undead, but . . . gone.”
“No, Elena—”
“Yes. Yes! I held you as you died. . . .” Elena was sobbing helplessly. She couldn’t feel
Damon’s arms at all now. He was disappearing into shimmering light.
“Listen to me, Elena—” She was holding moonlight. Anguish caught at her heart.
“All you need to do is call for me,” Damon’s voice said. “All you need . . .”
His voice faded into the sound of wind rustling through the trees. Elena’s eyes snapped open.
The room was full of sunlight, and a huge crow was perched on the sill of her open window.
A cloud must have gone over the sun; for a moment, the world was dim.
The crow tilted its head to one side and gave another croak, watching her with bright eyes.
A cold chill ran down her spine. “Damon?” she whispered.
But the crow just spread its wings and flew away.