Fall in love in a weekwe get by

– They don’t serve delicious puddings at Panacea Academy? – Miss Norwood smiled, picking up another piece with a spoon.

“Not that much,” I almost blurted out the “I didn’t try it” that would have burned to the very core – she was amazingly conducive to frankness. She was struck with a sudden panic – how closely had the real Charlotte communicated with her? “Yes, Mrs. Norwood is often here”… But where – here? Judging by the manner of work of Professor Norwood, he would not tolerate visits to the department even from his beloved mother. Maybe in the same village where Charlotte lives? They could have crossed paths there by chance.

I don’t even know how “small” the world is of those involved in one way or another with the Panacea Academy! Maybe the mother of the professor and world luminary knows everyone there, or maybe just one or two who work next to her son or are friends with him. If he even has friends at the Academy, Charlotte didn’t mention them.

Well, one way or another, now I need to establish contact. Despite the fact that there are no topics for conversation, no clues or common interests. Perhaps Dougal, but you can’t say straight out: “I need to find out about your son! As much and as detailed as possible!”

“Besides, at the Academy, thoughts are occupied with everything but the taste of pudding,” I said with a smile. You can’t head-on – approach from afar, in tricky zigzags, or circle like a hungry shark, approaching the target. As best you can. Pick up the crumbs until a large and truly valuable piece falls. “Sometimes it seems like you don’t even notice what you had for lunch.” Enough more exciting problems.

Miss Norwood looked at me with surprise and interest.

– Is it true? Wow, I…” she suddenly seemed to change her mind about finishing what she was going to say, took a sip of tea and silently put the cup down. – If work makes you forget about puddings, but does not cause irritation, then this is the right choice and great happiness, isn’t it?

“It’s not that I never doubted my choice,” it seemed right to “confess,” because if I, we succeed, I’ll probably want to return to journalism, and not sit over papers at the department. “But I like to know that I’m doing the right thing, and not some nonsense.” Besides, the Academy is really interesting! It’s just a pity that I myself didn’t…” I paused and hastily took a sip of tea. Let him think for me. She didn’t have a hand in many interesting things, she wasn’t capable of anything more than being an assistant—anything. Getting someone to finish your sentence is a great way to get to know them better. Well… or not him – but what he thinks about you. ? for me now – I still can’t say too much, if suddenly she knows Charlotte better than I think.

– Not an academician? – asked Miss Norwood, and seemed to be joking, but her voice was rather thoughtful. “I must admit, I didn’t expect to hear something like this from you,” she suddenly added.

I always thought that “my heart skipped a beat” was just a beautiful, but extremely stupid phrase. It turns out that it happens… I have established, as they say, contact! You have to know how to pierce yourself in five minutes.

– ? what did you expect to hear? – I pretended to take a sip of tea. Gain a couple of seconds, come to your senses. Decide what to do next. Admit? Turn it into a joke? Run away?

– I work in the most prestigious institution in Britain. We light up the stars. And I'm proud to be involved in this. This is a great honor. And Dr. Norwood is a wonderful boss. Oh, sorry, I have to run, otherwise he will be extremely unhappy. And he shouldn’t be dissatisfied, because he is a world-class luminary! And together we light the stars…” Miss Norwood grinned. – Something like that. What a mistake it is to judge people by their first impression. I'm really sorry. And I’ve never noticed such a habit before.

You managed to get into the carcass of a prestige-obsessed fool! No, come what may, but…

– It looks like her. And it's very sad. And you obviously know how to make the right impression. You know, Miss Norwood, I’m not at all sorry that I’m not an academic and I don’t light up the stars. But it's a pity that I'm Charlotte Blair. Because she did a colossal stupidity, and now it’s unknown how to get out of it.

The already large blue eyes widened, but, to give credit where credit is due, this amazing woman did not drop the cup or exclaim something like “Oh my God!” and didn’t even conduct an interrogation on the spot.

“I think, Miss Blair, we need to talk.” But a fashion salon is not suitable for such conversations.

– But you wanted something here…

“He’ll wait,” Miss Norwood stood up, and I jumped up after her.

I was ready to leave without waiting for my order – sometimes even eternal skeptics like me believe in signs of fate! But here is the master – or is it the mistress? – came out to us with a voluminous package of my new clothes. The old Charlotte probably never thanked her so warmly. Why else would there be such amazement?

– Sorry, Grisella, I’ll come by tomorrow morning. Suddenly I remembered an urgent matter. Memory… – Miss Norwood waved her hand, opening the portal, and added quietly, inviting her to enter first: – The only thought when you see this: split personality.

“But this is not it,” and I stepped onto the fluffy cream carpet in the small living room.

***

I sunk into a soft chair, clutching a cup of tea, and didn’t know where to start. Miss Norwood was in no hurry. She sat opposite me, looking out from under her eyelashes, as if she was looking for ten differences between me and the real Charlotte.

There was no point in beating around the bush, but it was worth starting with the main thing.

– Charlotte died. I was possessed by her body, and she is now a ghost. He flies nearby and repeats how sorry he is. ? What's the point of being sorry? I messed something up in the ritual. “I paused, wondering if it would be possible to also bluntly reveal that I’m not the only one in head-over-heels problems. Still, as an adviser, I liked Miss Norwood much more than the ghost Charlotte. – In a love spell ritual. On her and Professor Norwood.

– To Dougal?! But, Bran the Blessed! For what? After all… nothing connected them.

– You said it yourself – there, in the salon. “He is a world-class luminary, and together we light the stars.” Becoming the wife of a luminary is much more prestigious than being a simple assistant. Which they notice only when they forget to close the doors behind themselves or show up to the laboratory with their hair down. No, she was not in love with the professor. But she really wanted his attention.

– Right. Too much ambition and empty bravado,” Miss Norwood stood up and grabbed herself by the shoulders, as if she was freezing or trying to control herself not only figuratively. “She knew that such dark magic requires sacrifice.” Always! We all know this!

– Dark magic?! – probably, to say that I was amazed would be a gross understatement. – Love spell?

– Not a simple love spell. Ritual. For ordinary girlish stupidity, a potion is enough, it can be removed easily, but if Miss Blair performed a ritual… Oh yes, very dark and ancient magic.

“I would never have thought… Sorry,” I realized, “it was probably a stupid question, right?” But where I was drawn from, there is no magic at all. Only quackery and superstition. I don't understand this stuff at all.

Miss Norwood turned to me and looked very softly, with sympathy.

–Where did you get attracted to? And how did this happen? Ancient, forgotten forces walk only along the paths of spirits. They don't care about mortals until they call.

– I definitely didn’t call! But… – the living, arrogant face of the “hereditary dark witch” appeared before my eyes: heavy eyelids, upturned chin, lips, inaudible whisper… – I am a journalist. I was doing a report… just about magic. About what our scammers pass off as magic. Apparently, since magic exists in principle, a real witch could be found among those scammers? She claimed that she was hereditary and, by the way, dark… I offered to prove it to her with at least something other than empty words, in response she promised to take me to the astral plane. And… that's it. I woke up here already. With a screaming hysterical ghost in front of your nose.

– Poor girl. She probably didn’t even understand what happened. I didn't realize that this was the end. Is the ghost here with you now?

– No. I don't know when it will appear.

– But if your connection is not broken… When did this happen?

– This night. Charlotte said midnight or a little later. During the day I replaced her at the department. Because…” I froze, clasping my hands. Suddenly I realized that I had been on the verge of hysteria all evening, and now I came almost close to her.

– It’s not over, right? – Miss Norwood asked chokedly, as if through force. – Dark rituals are irreversible, and since Miss Blair’s body has absorbed someone else’s soul, that means… A love spell. How much time do you have?

– This is also known… known information?! – God, Charlotte turned out to be even more of an idiot than I thought! But it seems I won't have to explain the details. – She said a week. The first day has already passed. And I… I don’t know what to do at all!

– Not so much famous as frightening. From scary fairy tales,” Miss Norwood walked around the room, then sank back into the chair. – Miss Blair forgot about the main condition – ancient forces always need a victim. She paid with herself, but the ritual was already broken. You shouldn't anger those you know nothing about. As far as I understand, she is now tied to you and will remain tied until the curse ends. Tell me, miss… It's not really Blair! What is your name?

– Sally… That is, actually Freya Sullivan. Sally – for loved ones, I don’t really like to be called by the name of the goddess. I'd like you to call me that.

– It’s a pity, it’s a wonderful name with a beautiful history. You can call me Sabella, it's easier. Tell me,” she hesitated, sighed, and in an unconscious, seemingly habitual gesture, raised her hand to her eyes. – Surely I won’t be mistaken in assuming that the curse is two-sided? And that you are connected not only with Miss Blair, but also with my son?

Still, mother…

“Yes,” I almost whispered. – But he doesn't know. Nothing.

– He must find out. – It sounded with surprising composure for such news. “Not about the ritual,” she added hastily. – And that Miss Blair is no longer quite Miss Blair. Otherwise you have no chance. No one. But if you behave like you did today in the Rizella Amtown salon, I think ignorance itself will not last long. Dougal is observant.

“There are two problems,” I still drank the long-cooled tea. In one gulp, without feeling the taste. – He and I. Professor… Dougal,” it took an internal effort to pronounce the name, “it seems to me that he is not at all one of those who can fall in love in a week!” And even to his own assistant, who until now had only been annoying. ? I… I just want to drop everything and run away!

– Do you still have a loved one in your reality? – Miss Norwood asked softly. No, Sabella.

“He left me,” I put the cup down and leaned back in my chair. – And he didn’t even leave for someone else. Just one fine morning he told me that I was unbearable and he got a job in Sydney. Away from me. God, there, at home, I even left a ticket to Sydney. I didn’t intend to chase him, but I really wanted to see, just see… the city for which I was exchanged. It became some kind of obsession. And now I’m here, and all my plans are in vain… and what are my plans now?

– Sometimes a miracle or tragedy needs to happen for us to look at things differently. “Sabella seemed to be talking about me, but it was as if she was talking about herself too.” – Do you still love him?

– Don't know. I would say no, but… It hurts to remember. It's annoying. It's a shame. Our psychologists say that such feelings cannot be caused by someone to whom you are indifferent.

– Wounded pride, disappointment and broken dreams also cannot be called indifference. But you can’t call it love either. Well, at least for now we at least have hope. You don't look like a person who is in a hurry to give up his life.

“Tell me about Dougal,” I asked. Now the name came easier. “I asked Charlotte, but she doesn’t know him at all.” Only the light, not the person. At the pulpit he… – I hesitated, searching for words: what mother would like it if they directly said “cracker” about her son? – Very closed. It's all about work. It seemed to me that he was incredibly irritated by any distractions. Even a simple question if he would like some coffee.

“Rather, he’s annoyed by people who like to “light up the stars,” Miss Norwood smiled. – And Panacea Academy. Everything, from the roof to the dungeons. He is there not of his own free will, but because of me. But that's not what we're talking about now. Let’s go,” she stood up and beckoned me to follow her. – It’s difficult for me to judge him unbiasedly, you must understand, he is my son. So let's agree, I show, and you ask, whatever comes to mind.

"Unwillingly?" It happens that for a week they convince you that some topic may be interesting, but you dodge it by hook or by crook – and then suddenly you smell the smell of sensation in a short phrase that seems to be irrelevant, or even about nothing at all. This is exactly what has happened now. In the words of Sabella Norwood, and if you look at it, in the tone of her voice, the lowered eyelashes, the almost imperceptible shadow that came across her face, there was something much more hidden than she was ready to say out loud. Well, that’s really not what we’re talking about now. I'll try to find out later… if this is at all important in our situation.

In the meantime, we obviously came to the nursery. Funny wallpaper with a Teddy bear and Winnie the Pooh, a funny lamp in the form of a ghost floating under the ceiling – fortunately, not at all like Charlotte, but rather like Casper. Small table and bookshelf. I ran my fingers along the spines and tilted my head, reading the titles. Textbooks, a children's encyclopedia, colorfully published educational books for children – “The History of Alchemy”, “From Amoeba to Pithecanthropus”, something else that is little clear to me – about magic…

– Now Dougal rarely spends the night with me, and occupies another room. But he likes to sit here, thinking about the next difficult problem. He says this nostalgic atmosphere inspires him.

– Book child? – I asked.

– Oh, what are you talking about! Since childhood, he believed that all the most useful and interesting things are stored in the head, and not on paper. Some kind of inexplicable hostility to letters. I hardly even read textbooks, I said why, if there is a teacher who has speaking skills? The compulsory program was too easy for him – he was bored, and since he was bored, that meant he was trying to find something more interesting to do. In just six months of elementary school, I seem to have mastered all the healing spells that can be used on children. And she could create a portal to the principal’s office or to the school infirmary without thinking for a second.

I smiled involuntarily.

– And what activities did he consider interesting?

“For example, find out what will happen if you apply an eternal growth spell with a speed component to the royal turnips, and cast an endless doubling spell on the humates in the compost, so that the poor growing organism has enough food. Or how fast the regeneration of mandrake roots will be when cemetery soil is added to the nutrient mixture. Turnips broke through the roof of the school greenhouse and covered the entire school stadium, along with the players and spectator stands, with leaves, and three magicians from the environmental control department had to tear it out of the ground at once. Fortunately, the “poor growing organism” did not have time to produce seeds. Although ecologists convinced me that the seeds would have retained the original characteristics of the plant, but… they didn’t know my son!

I laughed out loud. I would never have believed that the stern Dr. Norwood, with his “pick up your hair”, “close the doors” and “don’t loom” could destroy the school greenhouse with an experiment (you can immediately see the future genius!) and in general, it seems, was a headache for the teachers and the director. “Poor growing organism”, that’s what you should call a banal root vegetable! Although… it’s far from banal!

– And the mandrake? I hope she didn't kill anyone?

– The experiment ended before it began. Dougal was caught in the cemetery. According to the caretaker, the boy was trying to raise a zombie. He himself claimed that this was not a ritual circle, but just a platform for disinfecting the land, because he did not want to introduce pests into the greenhouse! But Dougal was expelled in disgrace and forbidden to poke his nose into the cemetery territory. One way or another, he had no luck with the cemetery land.

Sabella stopped short, and I unexpectedly took her hand.

– Let's hope that the ban is still in force and he won't be unlucky again.

– Yes. Hope! – She, as if waking up, shook her head and gently squeezed my fingers. – I can show you photographs. Want to?

– Certainly! I like to look at photographs – by the way, the honest truth, especially if the pictures were taken unexpectedly, and not in a studio for retouching. – They can be very… honest, perhaps.

There were no photo albums in this world. We came into a small room, where opposite the already familiar screen wall and the “rubber” platform in front of it stood a cozy sofa and a small table. Probably to drink tea in front of the TV without descending into arguments with the announcer. A short smooth gesture and the screen lit up.

“Dougal,” Sabella said briefly. And she asked when a scattering of tiny pictures appeared on the screen. – Is it very difficult for you, Sally? In our world? If not for this monstrous ritual, would you have become interested or at least gotten used to it? After all, for a person who has never mastered magic, everything here probably looks very strange,” she nodded at the screen. – Portals, spells, tea and puddings out of nowhere?

“It’s hard to find yourself… out of your mind,” I joked sadly. – Lose everything you're used to. Work… my favorite job, yes. It’s probably really for the best that the person you love suddenly wasn’t there. ? here – here it’s interesting.

– ? your parents? – Sabella asked carefully, as if she was afraid to touch on a sore subject.

– Seven years ago. Car accident.

“I’m very sorry,” it sounded much more sincere than all the “sorry” for the ghost of Charlotte. “My father died when I was nine, but I still remember him, young, cheerful, as if he was always there. Well,” she added after a pause. – If we want you to work tomorrow and not fall asleep in piles of correspondence, then we need to hurry up. Of course, I can give you an elixir of vigor, but it has side effects that Dougal will not be able to ignore.

She waved her hand again, and instead of small pictures, one large one appeared on the screen. It's not even a TV. This is some kind of multifunctional TV-computer! Unless you have to click the mouse.

– Here you go, Sir Bradlington, the one who has the skills of oral speech. Teacher of natural history and natural magic. Well, his mantle belongs to Dougal. They got along great.

A thin gentleman in a cap, with a brushed mustache and a square chin, sported a striped suit and a bamboo cane. He stood, apparently, at the entrance to the school, and behind him a flock of kids about five or six years old was stomping around; one of the boys actually dressed up in a black robe that evoked memories of Oxford graduates. Well, as soon as I dressed up, I drowned in it – that would be more accurate! The robe fell in beautiful folds, spread along the wide steps like a royal train, and a curly, uncut crown stuck out from above and dark eyes sparkled provocatively.

– And that’s later. High school. Dougal with Rosa Aleus. Next to him is his friend, Chester Fully. Now he is one of the leading healers in Britain.

Rosa Leus was not a girl at all, as I thought for a moment, but… probably something like that same royal turnip. I mean, a victim, that is, a product of another experiment. An unidentifiable (by me, at least) plant that looks like… nothing like anything! A little from rose hips, a little from cabbage, something almost imperceptible from an orchid…

– This Rose was their project. You see – twelve rhizomes. And usually – seven, in rare cases – any odd number up to eleven. Nobody believed that they would succeed.

– Lord, what is this?! Is it… moving?! Or it seemed to me? – I didn’t see any rhizomes at all, except that they were the same moving tentacles, one of which was gently stroked by the round-cheeked, freckled Chester Fully. Dougal did not show any tenderness towards Rose, but she affectionately wrapped three tentacles around his wrist at once. And she even, it seems, tried to press a juicy curly leaf to her cheek.

– Yes, this is straight up… some kind of love triangle! – I exclaimed.

Sabella laughed.

–You're almost right. Rosa lived with us for another ten years, can you imagine? This is an amazing plant, difficult to care for, very rare and, one might say, intelligent. True, Dougal was never particularly interested in botany. He always liked chemistry better. ? Chester adored Rose, he read sonnets to her when he came to visit. Shakespeare. “What does the name mean? “oza smells like a rose”… Roses Aleus are partial to poetry and music.

I probably looked completely stunned. Intelligent plants, partial to sonnets! And Shakespeare too! Did our William Shakespeare really travel around the world? Or is this world almost a reflection of ours?

Or maybe, on the contrary, the reflection is ours?

“You are tired,” Sabella said softly. – Maybe we can see the rest tomorrow?

“Let’s do it tomorrow,” I agreed with relief. – That is, thank you, Sabella, I would be happy to. I just seem to have an overabundance of information – my head is swelling.

– Open the portal to the living room whenever you want. Miss Blair showed you how, didn't she?

– She showed me, but… Do you have any means of communication? Should I warn you?

– About the visit? No, of course, why? I'll hear when you come.

“I guess you just have to get used to all this.” Okay, I'll come by after work. Thanks for the invitation. And… for your understanding,” she added quietly.

“I’ll try to contact a ritualist I know, but I’m afraid we won’t be able to fix anything.” Ancient rituals, unfortunately, cannot be neutralized. How she could do such a thing is beyond my comprehension. – Sabella sighed heavily. – Don't despair, Sally. Dougal is not a bad person at all. Maybe too harsh and withdrawn, but not bad. Just please don't wear anything provocative or too bright. He can't stand this at work.

– I understand him very well! – I answered with feeling. – These terrible crimson trousers! Why else would I rush out at night looking to order normal clothes?

I was so tired that I was afraid not to get home – that is, to Charlotte's cottage, I must already call it home. But it turned out that my head, overloaded to the point of complete inability to think, was not at all an obstacle to movement: my body automatically made the necessary gesture, and I stepped from Sabella’s living room to Charlotte’s naturally and easily, as if I had been visiting guests this way all my life.

I barely had enough strength to go up to the bedroom, take off my clothes and crawl under the covers. I felt a cool, soft pillow under my cheek and fell into sleep as if into an abyss.

CHAPTER 2. Day two: Wednesday

“Day two,” I muttered, opening the portal with the usual wave of my hand. After pizza and coffee for breakfast, in a strict white blouse and black trousers, I felt… no, not at all as confident as I would like. But at least it's acceptable. I don’t sleep on the go, no crimson pants – that’s already happiness. And if you consider that “Rizella Amtown” was, it seems, the name of the master? – cast a self-smoothing spell on the clothes… Or what else can you call it when you take a blouse out of a bundle, and it unfolds right in your hands and becomes perfectly ironed, just put it on? It even became interesting, is this part of the services of an expensive high-status salon or is it in the order of things in this world? And there is no one to ask; Charlotte never returned.