Джордж Мартин – Dangerous Women. Part II (страница 16)
She couldn’t help but notice that this time he caught the resonance pattern, the one she’d used to break the last seal, and corrected it.
Then they were alone in the Senior Common Room. It could all have been a dream except for the plaster dust on the shoulders of Professor Coldwater’s blazer.
“What did she say to you?” he said.
“She?” Plum said. “Oh, the ghost. Nothing. She said ‘You,’ and then she didn’t say anything else.
“‘You,’” he repeated. He was staring over her shoulder—he’d already gone absentminded again. One of his fingers was still crackling with a bit of white fire; he shook it and it went out. “Hm. Do you still want to go to the wine closet? That’s what you were looking for, wasn’t it?”
Plum laughed in spite of herself. The wine closet. She’d completely forgotten about it. She still had Wharton’s stupid pencil case in her stupid pocket. It seemed too pointless to go through with it. Everything was too sad and too strange now.
But somehow, she thought, it would be even sadder not to go through with it.
“Sure,” she said, aiming for jaunty and almost getting there. “Why not. So there really is a secret passage?”
“Of course. I steal bottles all the time.”
He drew the rune word on the next panel over from the one she’d used.
“You don’t count the half panel,” he said.
Aha. The door opened. It was just what she thought: a doddle, not even one hundred yards, more like seventy-five.
She squared her shoulders and checked her look in a pier glass. The hair was a little wild, but she supposed that would be part of the effect. She was surprised, and almost a tiny bit disappointed, to see her own face looking back at her. She wondered whose ghost the ghost was, and how she died, and why she was still here. Probably she wasn’t here for the fun of it. Probably she wasn’t a nostalgic alumna haunting Brakebills out of school spirit. Probably she needed something. Hopefully, that thing wasn’t, you know, to kill Plum.
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