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
