Fall in love in a weekwe get by [Edgars ņš] (fb2) читать постранично, страница - 2

forgotten. They accepted the victim and closed. For good.

–What sacrifice? “I wanted to scream, but instead I squeezed out a barely audible whisper, because I already understood: I am the victim. The real one.

“I,” the girl seemed to echo. -You are still alive, but I am not.

– But if I’m alive, I need to be brought back to myself!

– Stupid. You are alive – here. In my body, but the body is not the main thing. You are still you.

– And you? “Somehow I immediately, instantly forgot my own irritation and indignation, giving way to acute, unusually painful sympathy.

– Not anymore. Time is lost, the paths are closed, the ritual is completed. The connection with the body is severed. If you hadn’t been pulled into it, a body would have been found here in the morning.

– What am I supposed to do?

It's not like I was expecting an answer. It seems clear and so – accept the situation and move on. But they gave me the answer, yes what!

– You must cheat fate. Bypass the curse, otherwise it will take two more lives.

– Wait! – I grabbed my head and shuddered, feeling thick wavy curls instead of the usual short haircut. – Wait, not so fast. You were talking about a ritual, not a curse! About the love spell ritual, I remembered an important detail. – A love spell can, of course, be considered a curse, but somehow… conditionally? More philosophically than…

“The one I was before was mistaken,” apparently, the ghost was tired of listening to my helpless babble. – Interfered with something that should not be interfered with. She called upon the wrong forces, spoke the wrong words. I'm sorry. I try to help. Now I see more, much more. I know something I never knew.

–What kind of curse?

– For love. You have a week. He does too. If there is no love, there will be no life. Both of you.

– I have?

“This body,” the ghost seemed to shrug. – So, you have it. And Dougal. And he didn’t even know about anything.

– Dougal is someone else… Is he even someone? Did I understand you correctly, did you cast a love spell on him? And now he has to fall in love with me?

“He’s into you, and you’re into him.”

– What if I don’t like him?

– You will die. Both. And guess what? – the ghost’s hair suddenly stood up, and he himself seemed to be filled with an otherworldly, deathly light. – If he dies, I won’t forgive you for this! I will find it even after death.

“Look,” I stood up and shook off my robe. – Don’t forgive yourself first. You started all this, not me. But I want to live, so let’s hope that I like your Dougal. At least a little.

– He was never mine. The one I was before… I'm sorry, I really am. The usual stupidity, an argument with girlfriends, a desire to please everyone, even him. No feelings except pride and selfishness.

– Yes… Well, you and… – You can’t even find words for this!

– If it could be fixed… But what’s done is done.

– What is your name? Or now me?

“Charlotte,” the ghost flew very close. – Charlotte Blair. Now it's time to get out of here. I'll show you everything you need. You can occupy the house, I grant you permission. Take a name, a job…

– Stop, stop, stop, who do you work for?

– Assistant to the Doctor of Magical Chemistry and Pharmacy, Head of the Department of Potions and Elixirs, Professor Dougal Norwood. The same one.

– Who should I fall in love with?

“And achieve reciprocal love,” Charlotte reminded. – You will understand how difficult this task is. He is not a very pleasant person to talk to. Genius, in a word.

– And I don’t even understand ordinary chemistry, much less pharmaceuticals. Not to mention… wait! Magical?! Where did I end up anyway? Is this still Earth? – Obviously, yes, since the ghost bears the quite ordinary name Charlotte, and there are Latin letters on the keychain. But magic?!

– Of course, Earth. England, if you want to be more precise. Panacea Academy.

– On the Earth that I know, magical chemistry does not exist in principle!

– ? here – exists.

– So, not Earth. Or a parallel world, but what difference does it make? In my opinion, both are impossible. Well, you… did a ritual! I should have my hands torn off for this.

“Who I was died for this.”

– What should I do? That idiot you were is your own fault, and what does it have to do with me?! – for some reason, the inability to return to my home, at least in someone else’s body, to feed Alice, to finish my work, and at least to catch my breath from all this nonsense, sitting in my favorite chair, hit me more painfully than the threat of death just a week later. The final verdict…

– And you were not in your world when everything happened, and without a body, by the way. So call it what you want – fate or an unfortunate coincidence, nothing will change. But this is also your fault. Don't look where you shouldn't. Especially if you are not prepared for this.

– So-so… So, that witch after all… killed me, or what?!

– Nobody killed you. I don't know what you used to call it. Astral travel, perhaps. That witch… I can't reach from here. I wanted to prove you wrong. But you didn't want to listen. And having found herself in a world beyond your understanding, she behaved like… I don’t know, the paths were closed. The ritual brought you here. And let's get back to what's important. What happened has already happened.

– Oh yes. And now I have a week to avoid completely dying. – I had to try to focus on the “important”. – In short, we settled on the fact that an assistant to a professor, and even more so a genius, I would be like a ballerina out of an elephant. “I sighed and admitted the main thing: “I understand even less about love than I do about chemistry.” Unless, of course, you take into account the unhappy and unrequited one. Maybe it's easier to quit right away? To spend the last week of my life in revelry, to fly to Sydney… I've been wanting to for a long time… is there Sydney in this world?

– Eat. But first you will do everything in your power,” Charlotte responded in an unquestioning tone. – It needs to be corrected, changed, the way it is now is not good. There is only one death on my soul for now, and I don’t want yours too. She said, I’ll help. Come on, I’ll take you home and tell you about Charlotte, about work, about the rest. You must not give yourself away, otherwise it will become very difficult to correct. You will work next to him, and in a week… one way or another something will change. – She disappeared, only to immediately lean out waist-deep from the wall. – Go!

– Where?! “I tried the locked door. There was no hint of a keyhole under the round handle.

– The key is in your hands. Place your pass on the door. This one,” she pointed to the keychain.

Indeed, as soon as he brought it to the lock, the door opened.

“By the way, I’m Sally,” Charlotte said from behind as she floated down the dark narrow corridor. – Freya Sullivan, in full.

“You are Charlotte Blair,” this… ritualist objected. – Now. At least for the next week. Then you decide.

***

The Panacea Academy, where Charlotte worked and was taught by this same Dougal – a doctor, a genius and an unpleasant person, was almost a medieval castle, proudly rising on a hill in the middle of the heather moors. At the foot of the hill, on one side there was a village where teachers and staff lived, and on the other there were several small, pleasant two-story dormitories for students. The view from here must have been stunning during the day. But now, in the dim light of the moon, which barely diluted the darkness of the night, everything looked dull and, perhaps, mystical. In the worst sense of the word. Only in such a dark place can one get involved in a ritual with a deadly curse. Something good is doubtful. The bright lights near the dormitories and in the village brightened up the impression a little, but in contrast to them, the darkness around seemed thick, almost tangible.

And the lanterns themselves were… strange. I didn’t even immediately understand why. Only then did I realize: the light was not like what I was used to, it gave off a cold blueness and something otherworldly. Is it also magic?

“There’s your house,” Charlotte waved her ghostly hand. Somewhere towards a whole street of identical brick cottages. That is… I don’t know, can a house be called a street if even the most seedy road does not lead to it? Neither to the teaching village, nor to the dormitories. It's like they're flying on broomsticks here! What is magic?

Charlotte, hearing about brooms, explained:

– There is a portal network.