Fall in love in a weekwe get by [Edgars ņš] (fb2) читать постранично, страница - 3

You need to learn how to open portals – everyone can do it, even children. It's simple.

– Oh yes, I forgot to say – I’m not a magician. Although no. She spoke.

– Now – a magician. – Charlotte didn’t seem to hear my irony. Her chilling, otherworldly emotionlessness was beginning to frighten me. It would be better if she screamed and became hysterical, like at the very beginning! – You got the body of a sorceress. It remembers, it needs you to remember too.

“Translating body memory into conscious knowledge is a wow task! How?!"

Charlotte's ghostly body suddenly enveloped me, embraced me in a sticky, chilling way. The hand went up on its own, as if pulling back a curtain. Behind the “curtain” a piece of the living room was revealed: a bright green armchair, a glass table, on the table there was a teapot, a cup, an open packet of cookies and an open magazine turned upside down. On the cover, a doll-like blonde in a short flared fuchsia dress smiled invitingly. “The trends of the season are brightness!” – shouted large letters over the blonde.

I stepped there – somehow I stepped in a special way, fully aware that this “step” would eat up at least half an hour of walking, at least half a day on the plane. The “curtain” gently fell behind him, cutting off the path. Charlotte hung next to me, and I was finally able to breathe in normal air, and not the cold of the grave.

– Very simple. Do you remember?

I wanted to say that I didn’t even understand anything, but… Well, yes, I didn’t understand. But I can repeat it, I felt it.

– ? how to determine where to go? Only to familiar places?

– I will take you everywhere. Until you get the hang of it. And for public portals, it is not necessary to know what the exit looks like. If you want some tea, the kitchen is to the left. “Did it seem, or did she actually sigh?” – I hope you like cupcakes. This body loves them.

Cupcakes, tea and a story. Detailed, but not too clear. To begin with, this is actually Earth, really England, but magic is the order of the day here. Instead of the metro, buses and trains – a public portal network. Chemistry is the one that I now, in theory, must know at least at the bachelor’s level, and not a long-forgotten school course! – is divided not only into organic and inorganic, but also into magical and not. Healers… this is generally a special conversation, because they master magic at a very high level. ? They are trained in this very academy with a teeth-breaking abbreviation instead of a name.

“Panacea Armoran Academy of Applied Healing and Chemical Biological Research,” Charlotte said. And she added: “Everyone just says “Panacea Academy.” And Dr. Norwood's department is of potions and elixirs. Magical pharmacology – is this name easier for you to understand?

– It’s much simpler…

– Don’t be afraid, you won’t have to do anything complicated. Especially with Dr. Dougal – “I myself, don’t touch, don’t touch!” The assistant is doing the paperwork – can you really understand the papers? Registers mail, receives and sends. The professor has an extensive correspondence, he is a world-class luminary,” she explained with unexpected pride, as if she had lit this luminary herself. – We'll have to control the class schedule. Make sure there are no overlaps. It happens that he is called to a conference or an urgent consultation. Then everything needs to be adjusted and replacements arranged. And if he has an important phase of the experiment, he gives an unscheduled control. Then you’ll just sit in the audience and make sure they don’t cheat. He even makes his own coffee.

– In general, something like a secretary. Okay, I can handle it. Maybe. You know, friend, it seems to me that you are still in love with him. At least a little.

– Do you think that a rather frivolous and selfish girl can fall in love with a man who, instead of “hello,” says “you look disgusting.” If you collect your hair, you will ruin the potion,” and instead of “goodbye” – “And finally disappear from my sight”?

– Do you think that I will fall in love with him? And in just a week.

– Are you frivolous and selfish? – Charlotte asked, but did not expect an answer, as if she already knew him. Although, to be honest, I wouldn’t be able to answer. We are all selfish and frivolous… we happen. And we are also different. And with different people – different. Look, the same Mrs. Wilburn thinks I’m sweet and sympathetic, and our production editor thinks I’m a notorious bitch. How can I know what I will be like next to the unknown Dr. Norwood?

A heart-rending ringing sound came from somewhere above.

“Alarm clock,” Charlotte’s ghostly face rippled: she was probably wincing like that. Still, if there is something constant in all worlds, it is alarm clocks and a general dislike for them… – There is a bedroom. In an hour you should be at the department.

– Did we talk all night? – I was amazed.

– Almost. ? now you have to get yourself in order, change clothes, comb your hair…

– Collect your hair so as not to spoil the potions, yes, I understand. By the way, thanks for reminding me – where is your mirror? I want to finally see who I have turned into.

“Well, it could be worse,” I thought, looking at the huge wall-length mirror in the bathroom. – “Okay, much worse.” Nature did not deprive Charlotte. Perhaps this body would be called luxurious by those who are not delighted with modern fashion trends. Thin waist, steep hips, defiantly high voluminous breasts. It was heavy, I felt it very well already, having walked with her for only a few hours. “Hello, Barbie,” I thought gloomily. ?except maybe not blonde. A shiny mop of chestnut curled in unruly curls. How long does it take to style such hair? Horror. “In an hour at the department”?! This is clearly not enough to wash, dry and give at least some kind of sane appearance.

– I do not like? – Charlotte asked, floating into the bathroom. – I liked that one.

– Maybe I should get a haircut? – I thoughtfully tugged at the wavy strand. – I don’t see a hairdryer or electricity here at all. By the way, where does the light come from? – the chandelier in the living room and the ceiling lamp in the bathroom were burning quite as usual, brightly. Not as deathly as street lights. But – no sockets, no switches.

– Magic. Let me show.

Again, the almost familiar feeling of a slimy cold jellyfish swallowing you – and your hands shot up, making passes. R-time – a hot wave passed over my head, my hair shone and lay hair-to-hair. Two – the unruly hair is arranged in a high, strict hairstyle. Tr-ri – the traces of a sleepless night and a difficult conversation disappeared from the face, the cheeks softly flushed, the eyes sparkled fervently. Gorgeous!

“It’s impossible to fall in love with such an assistant – your Dougal is definitely a cracker,” I voiced the logical conclusion.

Charlotte waved my hand again, turning off the light in the bathroom.

– And now – to the kitchen. I’ll teach you how to quickly prepare breakfast and make coffee.

To the pulpit Charlotte me – or us? – delivered five minutes before the start of the working day. Dougal was already here, and I stared with greedy curiosity at my intended betrothed. He, however, was almost entirely hiding behind an unfolded newspaper – it seemed German. All she could see was the burning black top of her head and her long, ringless fingers. Moreover, Charlotte immediately retorted:

– Don't look so closely. Say hello and run to sort out the mail. Come on, "good morning, Professor Norwood"!

“Good morning, Professor Norwood,” I repeated like a parrot and ran to the table on which was piled an uneven stack of newspapers, letters and parcels. If this is mail in one day, how does he still manage to teach?!

“Suspicious punctuality,” this doctor-professor muttered under his breath. He didn’t even raise his head from the newspaper. – I'm waiting for a package from the Munich Academy, look.

“Look,” Charlotte ordered. -Can you identify the German?

– I…

– Answer mentally.

“I know a little German.”

– Fine. Search.

The voluminous package was found in the very middle of the stack – judging by the weight and format, two or three rather thick magazines. Under Charlotte's guidance, she also selected several letters from regular correspondents. I put it on the professor's desk. She paused slightly – now, although from an unfortunate angle, it was possible to see her face.

Well, nothing special. A man is like a man. About thirty years old, probably. Too pale to be a hot brunette – maybe he doesn’t