Читать книгу Right hand. Prince of Darkness - Dmitry Nazarov - Страница 4

Step by step, I carefully stepped on the pliable soil, adjusting to the human body, like a rider to a new stubborn horse. This body had its own instincts, and it was necessary not only to subordinate it to the power of my mind, but, on the contrary, give free rein to something, giving me the opportunity to be responsible for reactions that did not need my control. It wasn’t the first time I’d assumed human form, but the last time had been too long ago. How much time has passed? Three hundred years by human standards? Or is it five hundred?

Once again, stumbling out of the blue, she cursed, mentioning the Prince of Light, and looking up, she found a grinning creature right in front of her, vaguely resembling a man, however, the resemblance to a monkey was also considerable. Looking more closely at the unshaven face, thin hair and untidy clothes, I nevertheless came to the conclusion that I see before me a representative of the Homo sapiens species, a male, albeit in a far from the most perfect version. It was hard not to smile. The Prince of Light has repeatedly stated that man is created in his image and likeness. I wonder what he would say if he saw this individual?

Are you smiling, girl? The man grinned rather.

I winced involuntarily: the human body did not respond well to strong odors.

– Did you eat something? Or drunk? I tried to figure out the reason. – I don’t think your insides smell that bad.

The male was offended, unless, of course, I forgot how to correctly interpret human facial expressions.

– Just think, I intercepted bread with garlic, – he snapped. – Look, what a swell, she doesn’t like the smell. Let’s see how you sing now.

His clammy, sweaty hands reached for mine… I think it’s called a waist. I would have endured it, but the parted mouth approached, and the stench became completely unbearable. It’s not good, of course, to reveal oneself right away, but I’m sure, given the circumstances, the Prince of Darkness will understand me. I think even the Prince of Light would understand.

Taking a step back, I gazed intently into the eyes of a traveler I met by chance.

– Greg Donellan, thirty-eight. – The pupils of Homo sapiens widened in surprise, and I continued with pleasure: – He committed violence against five women, the youngest of them was fourteen, the oldest – forty-one. You killed two after that. One, on the contrary, was first killed, and only then abused.

The individual stepped back, waved her hand in horror, as if expecting me to disperse (no matter how!), and, shaking her head, wailed:

– It is not true. It wasn’t like that at all. Not true!

– Are you saying you didn’t rape those women? – I asked with curiosity.

It’s interesting to understand what’s going on in the head of the instance that got in my way.

– I don’t know how you know this… You must be a witch! – it dawned on him. I just laughed softly. But I’m not a necrophile. I didn’t sleep with the dead! Just strangled her a little so that she would not twitch. She herself is to blame. But she wasn’t dead!

– How curious! I exclaimed, folding my arms over my chest. What an original interpretation of morality! You’ve just been accused of violence and murder, and it didn’t affect your vulnerable psyche too much. You are not at all concerned that you tortured living women who are capable of feeling, suffering and experiencing pain. No, you are shocked by another thing – that you had sex with a body that by that time had already left the soul. A body that was completely indifferent to what was happening to it, since its owner was very far away from here. I studied the man for a bit and shook my head thoughtfully. – A very peculiar moral code. I confess, he does not impress me too much.

– I don’t like witches too much.

It seems that Homo sapiens was not familiar with the word “impress”, but he understood the general meaning correctly.

– A big tragedy. I’m sure they suffer tremendously because of this.

The face of the interlocutor took on an aggressive expression (judging by the dilated nostrils, tightly compressed lips, flushed face and other signs). He stepped towards me again.

– Come on, you’re not in the mood for abuse anymore, – I said confidently, but for some reason this remark only angered him more.

– But you won’t tell anyone anything, – he hissed and, throwing himself at me, began to choke me.

The instincts inherent in the human body called for resistance, to try to unclench other people’s fingers in the struggle for a breath of air. But I didn’t let them. Instead, she closed her own hands around the male’s throat and squeezed harder.

Breathing became easy, and homo sapiens twitched, trying to escape, but, of course, to no avail. I loosened my grip, and Greg Donellan fell lifelessly to the ground.

Driven by instinct, I touched my neck, even though I knew full well that there were no marks left. Leaning over the corpse, belatedly retorted:

– No, you won’t tell anyone. She unbuttoned a couple of the top buttons on the deceased’s shirt and applied the signet ring she wore on her little finger to his chest. An imprint of the rune depicted on the ring appeared on the skin. “This is to get you where you need to be,” I explained, without going into details.

The wind stirred the grass again, making it clear that my actions in this case are unnecessary… Or warning of danger.

I tilted my head, turned my nose. It smelled of people and animals, like horses. And sure enough, literally a minute later, four horsemen drove up to me. A small armed detachment, most likely local law enforcement officers.

– What happened here? one of them asked sternly, holding his heated horse.

– Oh, terrible things, sir! I exclaimed and burst into tears.

Technically, it turned out to be easy.

The man, who must have been the leader of the party, signaled to the others to dismount. Two approached the body of the rapist, the latter remained in place, taking the reins from the hands of the officer. He approached me and deigned to introduce himself:

– I’m Quentin Lott, head of security patrol. The Villa is usually quiet, but this night we decided to drive around the area. I see that our intuition did not deceive us.

His voice softened noticeably, and I made a mental note to myself – the tears of a beautiful young girl have a great effect on men. And Ville, apparently, is a local town on the outskirts of the county of Thornfolk that interests me. That is why my journey started from here.

– Tell me what happened.

I sobbed for order, but did not have time to open my mouth: one of the comrades called out to the officer:

– Quentin, there’s a body! – And for greater accuracy added: – Dead.

The look that Lott had given me turned stern again. The law enforcement officer clearly did not feel joy from the circumstances of our meeting. And that’s right: what is the order from his position? The corpse of a recently strangled man, and an unfamiliar girl who appeared from nowhere at the crime scene. Order is when murderers kill, rapists rape, and respectable citizens sit at home behind seven locks.

“So what happened here anyway?” The officer furrowed his eyebrows.

I burst into tears more than before.

– What are you, Quent, really? One of those who examined the body approached us. – You see, the girl is quite upset.

It seems that when communicating with each other, the members of the squad do not worry too much about the hierarchy. It is not surprising: there are few people, all from a tiny town, I suppose they know each other since childhood.

The guy gently stroked my head. This one did not stuff himself into lovers, he simply decided to take part.

– Judge for yourself, – he again turned to the main thing, – they strangled the peasant – they didn’t poison him, they didn’t put a dagger in his back. Strangled, moreover, it seems, with bare hands, and he looks so healthy. Do you think a girl could?

– Okay, I see it myself, – Lott grumbled. – Why are you mad at me? Need to figure it out. And she is a witness.

– Will you tell? – affectionately asked the, that stood nearby. I nodded, wrinkling my nose. – That’s good. Did you know him? The boy nodded his head towards the corpse.

– Not. He attacked me. I wanted to rape. – I sobbed again and puffed out my chest, showing off the dress, which this infection really managed to wrinkle and even tear at the seam. The men nodded sympathetically, believed, therefore. -And then a miracle happened! The man rode on a white stallion. Young, noble, perhaps. Beautiful. I rolled my eyes romantically. – He dismounted – and ka-a-ak will push this bastard away! They ka-a-ak will grapple in a fight! My soul is gone. And then he fell. And this one, the handsome one, looked at me like that, they say, don’t be afraid of anything, – I lowered my eyes down, pretending to be embarrassed, – jumped on a horse and galloped away. I didn’t even get to thank him. And now with hope she looked up at Lott. – Will you really find him? – Can you send me a message?

– Ugh you! he spat at his feet. – But we didn’t have enough to look for a prince on a white horse. All right, guys, get the body and let’s go. What’s your name? he asked, jumping into the saddle.

– Tess White. I am from a village near the Small Lake. Ask there, everyone knows me.

– Ask if you need it.

I looked after the guards and even waved to the friendly boy when he looked back. The wind quickly dried her tears, a faint smile played on her lips. You will not find any Tess White in the village, Mr. Chief of Security Patrol. And outside it is better not to look. It is of no use to you. Return home and offer a prayer to the Prince of Light for descending the hill safely and without loss.