Читать книгу God Loves Angels - Enrike Fluence - Страница 3

Do you believe in love at first sight? I am.

I’m in my new room on the second floor in the boys’ dorm tower. My neighbor, blond and smiling, has just left to hurry into the large hall of the castle. We met him five minutes ago, chatted on friendly terms. In half an hour there will be a festive dinner in the refectory hall. Or lunch. I don’t know what time and customs in this country, but in my opinion, it gets dark quite late here. But first there will be a solemn part. Director Madame Brutilde Escalotte will give a speech in honor of the beginning of the new academic semester, congratulate the students who have entered and wish them success in their studies. I already saw this last year at my old school.

Now I am alone in the room and there is a moment to look at «her» again. I take a paper envelope and a photograph from my suitcase. They were hidden in a secret pocket behind the lining.

The photo shows a cute little girl’s face. Beautiful eyes. I could not help admiring them. Again. Even if I hadn’t been told who she really was, I would still have paid attention to her. Miss Burling! And her name?! A unique combination of letters that caresses the ear. I whisper it, repeat it again in a whisper. Then I hide the photo in my cache and go downstairs.

There is a noise and a din of cheerful voices all around. Lots of boys and girls, guys and girls. They are bustling about in the large hall, waiting for everyone to be invited to the refectory.

In my mind is a beautiful girl from a photograph. She should be a little older now than in the photo. Of course, a girl, and no longer a child. And probably even more beautiful. I really want to see her.

I look around the guys with concern, look into new and unfamiliar faces. «She» is not among the first-Grant students, not in the large hall. Maybe she was late and is about to come up? I turn around and wait.

– New kidnapping. – The sorceress spoke in a business tone from the TV screen, leaving no doubt that the morning music program was again interrupted by breaking news from the wizarding world. Grandmother gasped and rushed past me, hastily wiping her hands on her apron, and turned up the TV.

«This time the incident took place in Hansville, northwest of Meldal County. At night, the young Alexandra Johnson, ten years old, was abducted from the Johnson home. A brigade of magical trackers arrived at the scene of the incident. This is all very similar to the incident that took place at the end of last month. Then a group of five people in black kidnapped a young wizard, Jeremy Cormen, twelve years old in the evening on the street. The Magic Police have made no comment on the Johnson case. But we believe that these incidents are related and are the case of the illegal organization Black Magicians of Mechanical Sciences. If you know something about…

It was a sunny morning and I was in a great mood. My grandmother was kneading the dough, and I had breakfast: toasts with homemade jam and washed down with flower tea, and looked forward to my adventure plans for the day. In the vicinity of the town of Wiggia, sunny days are rare. Therefore, today it was just great with my friend Jessica to go to the elephant cliff and admire the huge waves of the north sea from it, breaking against the rocks. Now it looks like this walk will not happen. Maybe my grandmother won’t let me out of the house again for a whole month. Remembering the pile of old dusty books with which I managed to make friends until recently while in captivity, I felt scared.

Frowning at me and my grandmother from the screen, the sorceress news announcer continued:

«Our reporter was able to speak with Mrs Johnson…

The grandmother moaned softly and sat down wearily on a chair.

– Did you know them? – I asked. Grandmother pursed her lips and shook her head slowly. It could have meant no, «I didn’t know»; and at the same time, «oh, poor Mrs Johnson! How she suffers!..»

Grandma looked at me with a hard twinkle in her eyes. I’ve seen a similar look before. Then, when she conjured complex spells that not every experienced sorceress was given. But my grandmother always does. No wonder she was considered one of the strongest sorceresses in her order.

«Oh, poor Elizabeth Johnson! Such grief … – the grandmother lamented. I asked again:

– Grandma, do you know them, Johnson? Are they from your Order?

«Oh, I know… She doesn’t belong to the Order, honey, no… I worked with her in the dungeons of Buckingham Palace. Then the Order learned that the Black Magicians had learned about the cache of books by magic. I had to urgently fly to England and take out the most valuable manuscripts under cover of night. To deal with such a body of knowledge captured on paper, you need to be a professional librarian and magic. There were only four of us then, but we got it done in the shortest possible time. It was a great team. I think that the «Blacks» showed up the next morning, they didn’t find anything efficient and didn’t even notice our interference. It was Elizabeth who cleaned everything with sweat magic and hid the traces of our stay. Nice woman.

Grandma sighed heavily and frowned.

«Oh, Roselyn, you can’t wait any longer!

– Wait?

– Nordlig is not that far away. I don’t want you to be kidnapped by the Black Magicians.

– But they have no proof that they are «black»?! And now, – I pointed to the TV. The news ended and now the entertainment program resumed at a high volume. I almost had to scream to be sure that my grandmother would hear me. – Why are you sure it’s them? And what do they want me?

– You will go to this «school»! – Grandmother said imperatively, sternly shaking her index finger. Grandmother’s voice sounded unusually loud. The TV suddenly turned off the moment she spoke. Of course, it was not without magic.

I froze at the sight of my grandmother’s ring glittering with a green sparkle on her index finger. It was with this magical artifact, inherited from her mother, and from hers, that my grandmother did such magical things that I could only dream about. Probably, this ring will pass to me someday. And this thought was unpleasant to me, to put it mildly. Such an old-fashioned item will ruin my appearance.

– Don’t argue with me and don’t even dare stutter that you don’t want to go! The Nordlig School of Magic and Occultism is the best in its endeavors and traditions! Now I will write a letter to Brutilde, my old friend. She has been the permanent director of this institution for a hundred years. Grandmother’s face softened a little, and a slight smile touched her.

– I remember, I remember what Brutilda and I did during my youth. The teaching staff of that time had to endure a lot of our pranks. Especially Mrs. Fossel. Yeah… Hmm, I’d better email Brutilde.

Grandmother jumped up eagerly from her chair and jumped out of the kitchen. But then she came back.

– No, I’d rather call. The Internet is not a reliable medium. And you can’t hesitate.

My grandmother picked up the receiver of an old rotary telephone set, and I finally realized: my «home days» are over.