Veronika Grossman – Escort For The Witch (страница 2)

“I’m not opposed to taking a walk, but it would be silly not to use the car waiting for me with open doors,” he said softly, glancing at the clock again.

The girl flinched as if caught off guard, sharply turned around, and her beautifully arched eyebrows furrowed in anger once again.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice you come in,” Sabrina whispered and glanced shyly at the attractive young man still standing in the doorway.

“Maybe you want some coffee or breakfast?” she murmured after a short pause, then averted her gaze, noticing genuine surprise on Jack’s face and a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Wow, I’m shocked,” he whispered, raising his beautifully arched eyebrows in surprise.

Sabrina snorted impatiently, turned away, and started rearranging the kitchen towels, previously neatly stacked on the table.

“No, seriously, where’s the lecture on the harm I’ve caused to your brother as a result of our interaction?” Jack asked with interest, unable to hide the mischievous smile that reappeared on his lips.

“Let’s save it for next time,” Sabrina retorted sarcastically, casting Jack a stern look. “Knowing Eric and you, I can confidently say that the next time will happen in less than twenty hours.”

“Witch,” Jack said and chuckled, revealing a row of perfectly white teeth. “And now, give me the keys, and I won’t torment you with my presence anymore. At least for the next twenty hours.”

“You’re such a…” Sabrina hissed and tossed the car keys into the young man’s outstretched hand, making it clear with her whole demeanor that his visit for the day was over.

Meanwhile, Jack’s mood only improved; he winked at her and walked out of the house leisurely, whistling a cheerful tune. Sabrina, on the other hand, returned to her post by the window and furtively watched as the tall, handsome, man walked to a black Chevrolet Camaro parked across the street. He stopped, lit a cigarette after some contemplation, and then got into the car. Slowly rolling down the window, he glanced back at his old friend’s house. His eyes caught the beautiful but somewhat troubled face of the girl watching him with interest. Sabrina blushed under his piercing gaze and, unable to contain her emotions, abruptly pulled the curtain. Jack gave a weary smile, started the engine, and sped off into the dawn.

Chapter 2

With the first days of September, real fall suddenly arrived in New Orleans. The cozy warmth of the departing summer was filled with restless gusts of still warm but already crisp wind, lazily wrecking the gilded foliage of the summer-sick trees.

Jack parked his car near the administrative building of the University of New Orleans, lit a cigarette and got out. The young man’s green eyes expressed extreme dissatisfaction with the weather.

“Well, well,” he thought, and squinted at the sky, veiled with heavy gray clouds, hoping to glimpse at least a tiny ray of sunshine in it. Never before in his memory had September in New Orleans been so gloomy.

“Well, such things happen sometimes too.” Jack leisurely finished his cigarette and headed towards the university office. A huge sign adorned the freshly painted door, on which in giant scarlet letters was written “Welcome!” Jack smirked and, pushing the hefty door, walked in…

Inside, madness reigned. Everywhere, with wild eyes full of despair, new students wandered – “Fresh blood…” Jack thought sarcastically, immediately brushing the ugly thought off. He somehow managed to squeeze through the crowd of freshmen , who were arguing eagerly about which section of building ‘A’ they should search for the biology lab. And most importantly, how to find this building

‘A’ (since there were seventeen of them, and classes were starting in just thirty minutes, which meant very, very little in the minds of the newly minted students); their cries and shouts grew louder and louder. And this, in turn, irritated Jack more and more. With an air of importance, he elbowed his way to the administrator’s desk and leaned over it. The girl at the desk, who had been humming along to a cheerful tune coming from an old MP3 player, received the fright of her life.

Picking up one of the campus maps lying on the desk, he silently, with a meaningful gesture, handed it to who he thought was the most panic-stricken of the students. The poor kid turned pale and grabbed the lifesaving map with trembling hands, barely restraining a happy smile, before plopping down on a nearby bench apparently intended for the purpose.

“Well, actually, it’s my job, young man,” the administrator girl said in an angry, squeaky voice, her gray eyes boring into on Jack’s smug face.

Jack looked around, wrinkling his nose theatrically.

“Oh, Betty, it’s you. Well, of course it’s you,” Jack smiled. “You’re doing a great job, Betty! Don’t forget to deduct my percentage from the paycheck.”

“No wonder everyone hates you,” the admin girl retorted coldly.

Jack winked cunningly and smiled even wider, trying to suppress more acidic remark that kept coming to his mind.

“Ah, Betty, let’s not argue, okay? This might last until old age. And now, try to actually do at least part of your job, okay? Tell me, where can I find Mrs. Renton?”

The girl shot a malicious glance towards the young man, whose cheerful mood had evaporated without a trace. Her whole demeanor indicated how much she wanted to yank his earring or stick a pencil into his hand. In short, to do anything to get back at him for the snide remarks he constantly showered her with. Poor Betty couldn’t recall a week in the past three years that she had worked at the university office in New Orleans without handsome Jack Cornell, or someone from his small circle, coming in and saying something nasty.

“You know you have yourself to blame, Betty,” Jack said as if reading her thoughts, his voice tinged with reproach. “So just tell me where to find Mrs.

Renton, and I promise you won’t see me again today.”

“She’s filling in for Mr. Zigon today. So, I suppose she’s giving an introductory chemistry lecture in…”

“Well, it turns out thinking isn’t such a difficult task after all, and in some cases, quite useful!” Jack interrupted and headed for the exit. Glancing back he saw that the freshmen were still trying to locate building ‘A’ on the map. “Well, sooner or later, they’ll find it and rush to their classes. I need to catch their teacher before they drive her crazy with their endless quest for knowledge in chemistry,” Jack thought, wasting no time as he hurried off in search of the coveted instructor.

The laboratory in Building ‘A’ is a specially equipped space for conducting so-called practical classes in biology and chemistry. There’s everything you could imagine here! A great variety of all sorts of plants, intricately intertwined into a cohesive whole, the mysterious hybrids of which evoke rather ambiguous, and sometimes quite contradictory emotions. An abundance of low glass shelves with various chemicals, flasks, and instruments for conducting experiments, all provided by the Department of Education of the United States of America.

Jack approached the classroom, stealthily cracked the door open and entered the room. A woman stood on a low wooden stool, leaning over and completely focused on something that Jack couldn't quite make out what it was. She was quietly humming a melody coming from a mobile phone lying on the teacher's desk.

“Mrs. Renton,” Jack called softly.

Mrs. Renton didn’t react, continuing to hum the tune.

“Mrs. Renton,” another attempt to get the teacher’s attention. The reaction remained the same. Which is to say – none.

“Mom!” Jack almost shouted and couldn’t help but smile when Mrs. Renton, startled, jumped up on the stool, nearly falling off the makeshift podium, and briskly turned towards her son. The woman was genuinely scared. Her glasses were askew and slid to the tip of her nose, her green eyes sparkling brightly, betraying the poorly and clumsily concealed joy, as well as new wrinkles. She pressed her right hand to her chest, trying to calm down her racing heartbeat. Jack grinned and bit his lip.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, barely holding back laughter.

“Goodness! Child, did you decide to give me a heart attack?” the woman exclaimed with feigned horror in her voice and, adjusting the thin sweater on her slender shoulders, gracefully hopped off the small stool, revealing to Jack’s eyes a small round aquarium. The woman smiled at her son and danced her way to the teacher’s desk.

“Mom, are you experimenting on goldfish?” Jack asked curiously, observing the tiny fish swimming briskly in the transparent water. “We’re running low on frogs now. By the way, there’s a rumor going around about high mortality rates among rats. Poor things…”

“Back off, Jack,” Mrs. Renton replied, waving her hand while calmly arranging the measuring flasks on the table.

“I won’t. You called me twelve times today,” Jack persisted.

“Yeah.”

“At six in the morning, Mom!” Jack exclaimed indignantly, offended by his mother’s calmness.

“Oh, come on!” the woman murmured melodiously.

“And you didn’t even call back, by the way!” Mrs. Renton delicately adjusted her glasses and looked attentively at her son, scrutinizing him from head to toe.