Veronika Grossman – Escort For The Witch (страница 8)
“Oh my,” she whispered, pressing her hand to her stomach.
Without thinking about the possible consequences, I rushed to her and grabbed her hand just above the elbow. She was burning with fever, sweat beads forming on her forehead. I reached for the phone hanging on the wall and was about to dial 911 when Sabrina pulled the receiver out of my grip.
“Where are you going to call?” she whispered anxiously.
“What a stupid question? You need a doctor,” I replied decisively, feeling Sabrina release my hand and forcing a feeble smile.
“No, Jack! What are you thinking? I’m fine. Probably just something I ate. Really, everything's fine,” she said soothingly and hung up the phone.
Perhaps she felt a little better, but the wild glint in her eyes didn’t disappear. She looked away, and seemed paler to me. I followed her gaze but didn’t notice anything unusual. Everything was the same: the kitchen furniture in its place, the same old alarm clock that hadn’t been moved for years. Nothing that could terrify a person. Suddenly, Sabrina groaned again and once more brought her hand to her stomach.
“Jack, this is the first and last time I ask you to help me… get me a chair and…and bring water, please,” she muttered. Trying not to curse, I carefully lifted her, carried to the living room. There I laid her on the couch.
“Wait a second,” I muttered and left to fetch some water. Once again, I scanned the kitchen but didn’t see anything that could have frightened her. I had no choice but to return to the living room. Sabrina took a few sips from the glass and brushed the damp hair from her forehead.
“Some virus,” she murmured, tilting her head back and taking a few deep breaths.
“Yeah, a virus. Should I call a doctor or take you to the hospital?”
“Or maybe we should have lunch?” She smiled. And there was something in that smile that made my heart sink again.
“How did you wake up Eric?” Sabrina asked curiously, nodding towards the bathroom.
“You gotta have skills,” I replied, not without an air of mischief.
There was a deafening crash followed by a string of curses, coming from the depths of the house. Then the slam of the door, and finally, a loud yawn. Eric entered the living room almost steadily. He looked much better, but still disheveled and clearly unaware of what was happening around him. I noticed a shallow cut on his left cheek. Naturally, Eric noticed it too.
“I shaved,” he grumbled, poking the cheek with a cotton swab.
“Clearly,” Sabrina retorted sharply, catching her brother’s attention.
Noticing Sabrina, Eric immediately rushed to her and sat down on the floor next her.
“Are you feeling bad again, Sabi?” he asked anxiously, breathing alcohol fumes into her face.
“You’ll definitely make me feel bad now!” Sabrina grimaced, lightly punched Eric’s shoulder, got up and left the room. Watching her leave, I turned back to the squatting figure on the floor, the hunched-over guy who clearly didn't want to continue the conversation started in his room.
“I think we have something to discuss,” I said softly, breaking the awkward pause.
Eric shot me an angry glance, then laboriously got up and, dramatically, trudged back to his alcohol-soaked den.
“Have you eaten, who called me yesterday?” he spoke first, ushering me into his room.
“Murphy”, I replied instantly, settling into the old, weathered armchair.
Eric only looked at me quizzingly.
“He said I hadn’t handled the job well, and grandpa would be very ashamed of me,” he lowered his head and sighed heavily. “He said you would have done much better than me.”
“I know, Sabrina already told me,” I declared, getting up from the chair. I walked to the window with a shuffling gait, and lit a cigarette.
Suddenly, Eric raised his head in horror, his eyes widening as he stared at me, clearly now beginning to recall the details of yesterday’s conversation with his sister.
“Damn! I didn’t…”
“No,” I interrupted, “but you have said enough to make her come to me for clarification. For which I want, at the very least, to knock you out.”
“Oh… bad times,” my sobering friend muttered guiltily, staring at me, awaiting my angry response.
“Yes, and I had to tell her about Flippy’s murder.”
“Oh! That's some shit… She definitely didn’t need to know that! But… Okay, what now?”
“I met with Mom today. They decided that now I’ll be doing ‘surveillance.’ ”
Eric glanced sidelong at me and chuckled loudly. Then he flopped heavily onto the bed and covered his face with his palms.
“I let everyone down,” he moaned after a moment.
“Not everyone. At least, not yet. Stop boozing. The sooner, the better. Otherwise, you'll lose not only your job but also your family. Sabrina is desperate. You've driven her to it,” I said, closely observing Eric's changing expression.
“I noticed she’s been acting strangely lately. But I don’t think it’s because of me. She often looks somewhere, as if at someone… And I also feel that we’re not alone here,” he fell silent.
A hangover is not the best time for a serious conversation. And I genuinely pitied him. Deep down. Somewhere very deep. At the very bottom. Although, what am I talking about? My soul is bottomless…
“Eric, let’s try to find a compromise? We both know I won’t be able to keep an eye on her outside of university.”
Eric nodded in agreement and lazily scratched his scalp.
“So, here’s the deal: I’ll ask to have you appointed as my assistant, but on one condition.”
“What’s that?” Eric looked at me hopefully.
“You quit drinking and keep your mouth shut tight.”
“Agreed,” my friend replied without hesitation.
“What else does Sabrina know besides the fact that we’re hiding ‘something ’?”
A stifling silence filled the room.
“Nothing,” Eric said uncertainly.
“Well, I hope we’ll find out soon. The sooner, the better.”
There was a soft knock on the door.
“What!” Eric croaked.
“Are you two coming for lunch or not?” Sabrina asked, entering the room.
“Eavesdropping is very, very, very naughty, miss,” Eric said slowly and cautiously.
“Coming home drunk in the wee hours isn’t very nice either! And I wasn’t eavesdropping. I don’t have that habit. Go eat,” Sabrina turned around haughtily and slammed the door shut, causing Eric to clutch his head.
Chapter 6
Mr. Wallace sat in a large leather armchair behind a huge antique Victorian era writing desk propping his chin with his hands. His stern, wise gaze was fixed on the window. The Chief Guardian of the Guardian Order, always cheerful and lively, was in a terrible mood today. In his right hand, he tightly gripped a letter that had been delivered at four in the morning and labeled “URGENT.” The information it contained prompted him to immediately convene an emergency meeting of some members of the Order.
Mr. Wallace shifted his gaze to the gray London sky and sighed heavily.
“Well, it seems storms are inevitable,” he muttered heavily, setting the letter aside.
He looked at the numerous photographs in gilded frames on the desk, pausing to study each one of them. Two nine-year-old boys, a dark-haired girl with cornflower-blue eyes, Mr. Wallace himself, and his best friend – Alex Venters. How long ago was that? The Venters family had been living in London then. Mr. Wallace ran his finger over the figure of the little girl standing next to her grandfather in the photograph. Her eyes were not those of a typical child; more serious. He remembered how she had laughed and rejoiced when Mr. Wallace had pushed her on the swings. And yet, he had once been vehemently against his best friend adopting her.
“You’ve lost your mind completely!” he yelled at Alex. “She’s a witch!”
“Oh, come on, how can she be a witch? Look at her!” Alex replied gently, pointing to the infant sleeping peacefully in his arms.
“I’m telling you, you’ve lost your mind! She’ll grow up to be just like them! Or even worse!”
“No, she won’t! Not all of them were bad. Her mother is proof of that,” Alex said stubbornly.
“Think about your own family!”
“We’ve already discussed this. My daughter and son-in-law fully support me.”
At that time, Mr. Wallace could do nothing. Alex remained utterly deaf to all pleas to return the child to her real family.