Читать Escort For The Witch
Dedication
To my dear family – for constant support, faith and love.
To my Dear Mommy – for the endless warmth and light that you give.
To my Dad – for a kind heart and a strong shoulder.
To my beloved daughters – for the happiness that you bring into my life daily.
To my sister – for always inspiring me with optimism and self-confidence.
To my true friends – for the fact that, no matter what, you are always there for me.
“Fearlessness is a more than ordinary strength of mind, which raises the soulabove the troubles, disorders, and emotions which the prospect of great dangersare used to produce. And by this inward strength it is that heroes preservethemselves in a calm and quiet state, and enjoy a presence of mind and the free useof their reason in the midst of those terrible accidents that amaze and confoundother people.”
François La Rochefoucauld
Chapter 1
So it all happened…
Sabrina woke up in a strange daze. “What’s that noise?” echoed quickly in the depths of her foggy consciousness. Rising abruptly from the bed, the girl absentmindedly brushed her hair from her forehead and, trying to shake off the heavy sleep, glanced out the wide-open window. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just the dim light of a street lamp desperately trying to penetrate the gloomy haze. Another crash in the depths of the hall finally dispelled the remnants of her sleep and brought the girl back to the cold reality.
“Eric!” she exclaimed tiredly. “I’ll kill you! Four in the morning! Why the hell aren’t you sleeping? ” With a careless gesture, Sabrina threw a robe over her shoulders and briskly headed for the hall, trying to make herself look as menacing as possible, while trying to remember where she had hidden the baseball bat. She stepped into the hall and instantly froze, noticing in the far corner a rather intoxicated-looking young man. The guy was squatting, clutching his head in his hands, and groaning loudly and mournfully.
“Eric, you’re at it again,” the girl said dolefully as she sat down next to the the young man’s almost immobilized body .
“Hey, sweetheart!” he whispered softly in a gentle, melodious voice that suggested he had consumed more than a shot of tequila. “I’ve come home,” he said, hiding his drunken gaze. “Tell me you’re at least glad to see me. You are glad, aren’t you?”
The young man, his eyes glassy and expressionless, stared at Sabrina, gave up trying to say another word, and only raised his hand, covered his eyes, and let out a hollow, despairing groan.
Concerned to the core, Sabrina reached out to her brother’s alcohol-saturated body. Before she could say anything in response, a loud click of the opening front door shattered the almost quiet idyll of the cool southern night. Sabrina looked, puzzled, at the door, through which appeared a tall, dark figure. She squinted angrily and remembered the baseball bat again. Suddenly, the figure, clearly trying not to make any unnecessary noise and move as quietly as possible, stumbled over a nearby basket containing umbrellas, canes, and various paraphernalia, among which, incidentally, was the fore-said bat.
“For heaven’s sake, Eric, are you trying to save on electricity?” the newcomer grumbled in a low, raspy voice and, muttering under his breath, flicked the switch.