Читать книгу Demon mentor. Crypt of the Seven Angels - Natalie Yacobson - Страница 7

Luciana Jaudet woke up late. The bright sunlight penetrating the window through the parted curtains completely erased the memories of a recent nightmare full of horror, statues and blood.

The girl glanced at the park paths below, the manicured flower beds and the neatly trimmed boxwood bushes. Her father’s park has always been perfect. She never thought about the cost of keeping it in that order. Like any daughter of very rich parents, she did not think about money at all, but today for some reason she did. The father is to blame. He started talking about receiving some kind of inheritance. He had never spoken to her about business before. Is it time to get serious.

Luciana glanced in the mirror. Magnificence! Here is one word that came to mind at the sight of such perfection. The beautiful reflection did not differ slightly from its copies on the covers of glossy magazines and posters advertising expensive perfume. She’s the perfect model. But here in her father’s mansion she should feel more like a princess. the house compares favorably with both expensive hotels and luxury hotel apartments. This was where she should have stayed. Her pretty blond head and arrogant face were as exquisite a decoration for the home as the priceless originals of ancient paintings in heavy frames.

Speaking of priceless things. Today they brought her an exquisite jewelry box with inherited jewelry.

«Until recently, the most beautiful girl in the world wore them,» her father explained to her. «Treat them like some kind of relic.»

She didn’t understand why he said that. And who was this girl? Jewelry inheritance. But from whom? Luciana did not know those relatives who, according to her father, died in the accident. But she dreamed of the disaster itself today. The girl closed her eyes, bordered by beautifully curved eyelashes. She dreamed of a fiery explosion in some temple with statues, chaos, blood and… the statues came to life. It was creepy.

She felt sick from the chaos and blood. That is why she tried not to watch the news or read the newspapers. Any bloody details almost drove her crazy. Glossy magazines were all she looked at. And that was salvation. It is better to think about the beautiful, and not remember how much pain there is in the world.

She herself, too, was as beautiful as an exquisite porcelain doll, with which the curls were stabbed and dressed in a foam lace peignoir. It was time to call the servants for morning tea and croissants, but Luciana hesitated.

On her dressing table, among the bottles of lotions and perfumes, lay a box, which seemed to her to be a stranger. It would be better to put it in the safe. Jewelry was not uncommon for Luciana. She owned many expensive things, but these jewelry seemed so priceless that it was scary to even touch them.

As a matter of fact, she got the smallest share of the jewelry of that most beautiful girl who is no longer alive. Most of the jewelry was taken by Aunt Evangeline. She even squeezed out theatrical tears, lamenting how she loved her deceased relative. The tears looked so fake, however, so did the assurances that the jewelry was only for her as a reminder.

Luciana suddenly realized that she felt a sharp dislike for this woman. Not because she is petty with expensive things. No, because of these tears. Evangeline tried to cry, but her lips seemed to be laughing by themselves. Luciana almost lost her question:

Why did you hate her so much?

It’s good that she didn’t say anything. This would sound too blunt, if not shocking. But the question still kept rolling in her head.

She once again looked at her face in the mirror – according to numerous fans, the only true jewel. Then her hands reached for the box. Under the polished lid, decorated with a cameo, the print of an angel’s wing was carved. Jewelry shimmered on the inner velvet upholstery, as if taken from the dragon’s treasury. Luciana’s eye was drawn to a heart-shaped sapphire pendant. He looked like a piece of shattered heaven. She wonder if the eyes of the former mistress of this pendant were as pure blue as this stone. If so, then it is really difficult to imagine something more beautiful.

Luciana gripped the stone with her fingers, and suddenly she was overcome with such longing that it became even scary.

Suddenly, the dream came back to her. Blood, screams, a statue coming to life. A statue that moves straight towards her to crush her in his arms. Isn’t this a real nightmare. But the face of the statue was beautiful. Can the beauty of the one who kills you make death pleasant? Luciana sat motionless, clutching the stone in her hands, and it seemed to her that very soon someone would come to kill her.