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“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
The 'Guardian' Order
Mr. Wallis 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. Wallis 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. Wallis himself, and his best friend – Alex Venters. How long ago was that? The Venters family had been living in London then. Mr. Wallis 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. Wallis 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. Wallis could do nothing. Alex remained utterly deaf to all pleas to return the child to her real family.
Yet, in time, Mr. Wallis himself came to love the girl. Sabrina grew up into a beautiful, independent woman. But was she a witch? Most likely – yes. Knowing Sabrina’s family history, Mr. Wallis would have sworn on the Bible in court that the girl was a witch. However, was she evil? No. And on that point, too, Mr.
Wallis was willing to stake his own life. He was absolutely certain that sooner or later her abilities would manifest themselves. But how? That remained to be seen.
For so many years, no one from her real family had even inquired about the child’s fate. When the infant disappeared, no one even reported it to the police. All that was known was that Marie De Manshand, following the tragic death of her daughter, had gone to France to recover, and to restore the family nest – a vast, ancient castle in the ?le-de-France province. And now, twenty-three years later, she was returning. And she had a weighty reason for doing so. She wanted to find her only heiress. Her granddaughter Sabrina. Specifically, she had sent a letter to him, Wallis, as a token of gratitude for the fact that the Order had not left the poor child on the street and ad given her a home. For Marie was so devastated by her daughter’s death that she would not have been able to give Sabrina the love and attention she needed. The letter also specified that if Sabrina did not return to Paris immediately, Marie would either come over herself or send someone from her entourage.
After scanning the pointed handwriting on the letter once again, Mr. Wallis sighed bitterly and buzzed for his secretary.
“Dana, please bring me a cup of white tea and connect me with Elliot Cornell.
Also, invite Mr. Murphy to join us. And as soon as possible, please,” he said to an attractive-looking young woman who had entered the office.
“Of course, sir,” Dana replied and left.
Wallis approached the window, leaning on the weathered sill, and stared into the bottomless darkness of the Thames. After standing like that for several minutes, he smiled sadly and shook his head.
“What will be, will be,” he concluded and returned to his desk.
Chapter 7
Either I'll completely lose my mind, or…?
The disgusting “Dzzziiinnnnnnn” cut through the silence of yet another gloomy day. I sat up in bed slowly, staring blankly at the alarm clock. Six-thirty in the morning. I reluctantly pried open my left eye and glanced at Gigantor, lazily sprawled out on the neighboring pillow. The cat seemed determined to rip me in half with its crazy look. I sighed, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, and looked out the window. Nothing that could inspire even a drop of optimism. Rain, dampness, and endless, bottomless puddles…
“At least one thing to be happy about, it’s Friday,” I thought to myself and, mustering all my strength, got out of bed and shuffled to the shower.
It has been a week since my conversation with Eric, who could now be dubbed as a near saintly teetotaler. The guy was doing his utmost not to let me down. He constantly called, telling me about what was happening in his sister’s life outside the university walls. Now she suddenly felt unwell, now she behaved like a total bitch (‘what’s new and unusual about that?’ I would think then), now she burst into tears for no reason. And she also had a new admirer… Nothing strange about that either, there was always a bunch of admirers circling around Sabrina.
“And she’s not sleeping well,” Eric would say.
“And she doesn’t handle stress well?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s not good. Then there’s nothing interesting.”
I stepped out of the shower, nibbled on burnt toast and coffee, quickly got dressed: black jeans, a white sleeveless t-shirt with “The Wretched” printed on it (which was an accurate description for my current state of mind), and a thick, black hoodie. In short, an outfit befitting the gloomy weather, and my mood. Once
again, my attention was drawn to the cat, which had noticeably grown in size recently.
“We seriously need to think about your diet,” I grumbled and stroked the cat’s head, rewarded with a loud purr.
“Lately, all you do is eat. And in excessive amounts, just like me. And we need to try to eliminate toothpaste from your diet,” not waiting for any objections, I left the house.
Parking the car near the administration building, I focused on what I was going to do to annoy Betty once again. A plethora of questions interrupted my thinking though. My mind switched back to Sabrina. How do I talk to her? Lately, her behavior has been confusing. Not strange, but just confusing. Not that we had stopped “feuding” but now everything was somehow different.
I couldn’t resist a smug smirk. There was the answer to the agonizing question of how to annoy Betty again. Entering the hall, I slammed the door mightily, causing the windows to rattle. A blonde head emerged from behind the administrator’s desk immediately. There was so much anger in her gray eyes that if it could take physical form, she would have pinned me down and lynched me there and then.
“Oops, sorry Betty. Didn’t mean to scare you. We need to put a ‘Don’t Slam’
sign on the door ,” I barely suppressed a laugh.
“It’s already there, you idiot!” the girl squealed, her voice becoming even raspier with anger.
“Apologize right now! I don’t come in here insulting you!” I exclaimed, mockingly offended.
“Oh, you!”
A passing professor made the girl freeze and lower her voice to a whisper.
“I wish I could tie you to a radiator and rip out all your piercings so you’d bleed and…”
“Sorry, Bet, but your sexual fantasies don’t interest me. Now, tell me, where’s Mrs. Renton?”
There was a crash, and I felt the windows shake again, and Betty’s eyes sparkled with fury once more.
“Oh, damn, sorry Bet! I didn’t mean to!” Eric’s voice barely contained laughter.
“I hate you both!” Betty muttered angrily to herself, almost crying with rage.
“Hey! We’re still here!” Eric said, stepping away from the schedule board and parking next to me. Betty shot him a deadly look and turned away with an air of disdain, leaving him grabbing at his heart theatrically over her wrath I approvingly noted that he looked pretty good today. Clean-shaven, combed hair, although a haircut was overdue.
“Right on target, Bet! What’s the deal?” he laughed cheerfully.
“Mrs. Renton took the day off today,” Betty grumbled, ignoring Eric’s question.
What the hell, she took the day off? I should swing by my parents’ place, check on Dad while I’m at it, I thought.
“Is Mr. Mason in?” Eric asked.
“Yeah, and he’s looking forward to seeing you, our honored student!” Betty squealed sarcastically and pulled a mini version of the schedule from under Eric’s arm, on which he was enthusiastically drawing Betty’s portrait .
“Well, that’s it, I’m done…” he muttered and snatched the sheet from the girl’s hand.
I glanced at him briefly. Eric and Betty, silent and unblinking, were burning holes in each other with their eyes.
“Anything else?” Betty asked with mocked politeness, implying that it was time for us to leave her alone.
“Yeah, chestnut would suit you. I mean your hair. And also contact lenses. A change of character, job, and all that stuff…”
I chuckled and followed Eric, who was already heading for the exit. Betty was too angry to say anything. On the way out Eric slammed the door as hard as he could.
“I wouldn’t even do that to myself, Eric!” I said, still chuckling.
“Oh come on! Besides, I was telling the truth. She’d look pretty good with dark hair and…” Eric paused and smiled.
“And…?”
“And if she didn’t hide her eyes behind those stupid glasses. And… if she changed her… style. Sabrina said today that plaid shirts are in fashion, so I’d happily bring Betty a couple! I’m sure it would suit her.”
“Maybe you want to be her personal stylist? Help her with her transformation?”
My mood significantly improved.
“Nah, I’ve already thought about it, she won’t go for it. And she could use a career change too,” my friend mused.
“Eric, where’s your sister?” I asked quietly.
“She told me to go to hell and went to the auditorium. You guys have, I think, English Literature or History or something now. She’s fine. Last night she was cursing up a storm because of her new admirer. You know, he’s very… persistent,”
Eric winked mischievously.
“Yeah, I know. And how about you? Caught up on missed classes?” I inquired.
Eric was always a very clever guy, and it would be a shame if he dropped out of university because of a failed love affair.
“A lot of catching up to do, which is exactly what I'm doing. And then everything will be ok! So, I’m off to repent to Mr. Mason. Wish me luck, because I’m definitely not ready for physics!” Eric laughed again.
“Good luck!” Eric always scored a solid A in physics, and as a result, high expectations were placed on him, which I sincerely hope he’ll live up to. Well, Literature or History it is then. You couldn’t think of a more exciting subject if you tried.
The day was shaping up to be quite a good one. I glanced at the sky in surprise.
Through the gray clouds, blurry patches of sunlight were beginning to break through. Maybe all is not lost yet? Well, History. No one has died from it yet, and certainly no one has gone crazy. So, everything’s fine. For now…
Chapter 8
Dispute
I leisurely entered the classroom and made my way to the back, comfortably settling myself down at the very last desk by the wall. The class wouldn’t start for the next ten minutes, and everyone was busy doing anything but reviewing today's material.
“How’s it going, Jack?” asked Scott Waring, a youth with straw-colored hair and dimples on his cheeks. He had a look of complete innocence about him, unlike Eric or Sabrina, and his blue eyes were framed by thick lashes. This was the guy who drove all the girls in our year crazy. And I’d bet even the girls from the other years too.
He used to be one of Sabrina’s admirers, but all his attempts to get her attention had crumbled to dust when she had sent him, figuratively, as far away as the confines of the English language would allow. Since then, he had given up that foolish endeavor and switched to less verbally abusive and more receptive targets.
“Great, Scott. And you?” Notice how I always try to be super friendly and polite.
“Alright.”
“Ready for class?” I asked, even though I couldn’t care less.
“Of course. How else? And you?” Scott inquired.
“Of course. No other way.”
Here it is, the reason Sabrina doesn’t like him. He’s just awfully boring! Always looks impeccable: perfectly shaved, well-dressed, well-mannered, and always ready for class…
Sabrina nestled herself in the corner at the very back of the classroom to my left.
Apparently, she wasn’t ready either. Remembering the last literature class when she had disrupted my brooding, I moved over to her table and sat down beside her.
“Well, well, look who showed up,” she remarked casually.
“Aren’t you glad to see me?” I asked, feigning sadness.
“Of course I am,” Sabi sang sweetly, slamming her textbook on the table.
