Мракобесие: начало

Размер шрифта: - +

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 8

“What’s happening? Where am I?” Mary was spinning around like a top, trying to identify their location.

“In the same place as me,” Michael calmly replied, swinging his leg relaxed.

Sitting in a shabby chair with his legs crossed and arms folded over his chest, he was carefully watching Mary’s behavior which seemed to him at least strange.

“And where are you?”

“Well, let's say, that's what we wanted.”

“So it was you? Did you set this whole thing up?

“No, not me, of course.”

“How can you make those kind of joke! I almost gave up my spirit to God and you are joking!”

“Well, the words are quite human ... So, everything is according to the plan. So everything worked out great.”

“And why did that crazy woman see me? How did it happen? Because it’s impossible!”

“Give me your hand,” he said, holding out his hand.

She looked at it cautiously, but still put her hand in his palm. Everything went flying, spinning and she saw herself lying on a hospital bed. And then everything started spinning again and she, swaying slightly, returned to the reality of the moment.

“What does it mean?” She asked Michael.

“It means that we are ‘vegetables’,” he stated calmly.

“How’s that?”

“Neither dead not alive. And our future is uncertain. Now we are on an equal footing with the ward. If we take in the situation properly, we’ll find George soon.”

“So, it’s almost a victory?”

“Almost, but not quite. It’s important that he doesn’t notice us.”

“And how can we return him then?”

“Did you think that we would just take him by the hand and drag him into the world?”

“Well, something like that…”

“Our primary task is to find someone who needs him, but so that he doesn’t notice us even briefly, otherwise everything is lost and time is against us.”

“Where the hell have you been all this time then?”

“What I hear, madam! Did you say this word? Genius! And besides, towards me! You’re not jealous, are you? What do you have to say in your defense?”

“What defense?” Mary asked as if she didn’t understand him, blushing with shame.

“Come on!” He smiled kindly, mocking her.

“How? When did you become ‘dear’ to her?” Mary asked timidly, looking away shyly.

“To whom?”

“That impudent one, with a torn dress.”

“You missed the main thing. Her soul is torn more than her dress. And I came to her with magical threads that could patch this itchy hole.”

“Did you give her magic?” Mary was outraged.

“Magic?” Michael asked in surprise. “What for? They have their own magic. And they have enough of it. Especially since they haven’t learned to master it perfectly for so many centuries. I gave her care. Gave attention, the opportunity to feel needed. Human women are so fragile that if one makes them wait, the other will get a distrustful lump of ice.”

“So you cured her with some special magic?” Mary clarified with trust, genuinely interested in the magic unknown to her.

“This could be seen as that ...” The imp answered vaguely.

“Listen, absolutely no one needs George! Where do we find such a person who could keep him among the living?”

“I have already found! I, unlike some, wasn’t wasting my time!”

“What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying; I’m speaking plainly… The woman that was in the alley that evening is the one who will save him.”

“I don’t get it! She’s a common…”

“Whore? Yes, she’s a whore. But only such a woman can bring him back to life. And he, only as such, can change her for the better.”

“It seems I’m beginning to understand…”

“Very well, then.”

“And what were you doing with her?”

“In details?”

Mary didn’t know why, but she didn’t want to hear the details. Perhaps, because of that sly look on his face at that moment.



Ангелина Крихели

Отредактировано: 19.04.2019

Добавить в библиотеку


Пожаловаться