Methodius Buslaev. The Scroll of Desires - Емец Дмитрий Александрович. Страница 3

After jumping over a bench – on one side an enamoured couple was huddling timidly, and on the other side a student of land reclamation, with abstracts and a bottle of beer, was sprawling imposingly, occupying a large part of the bench – Daphne, dodging, dashed away to run on the lawn. Depressiac was jumping on her shoulder like a dashing rider from the Perm Circus. Daph ran quickly. The world fell away. Mothers with strollers, trashcans, freshly planted lindens along the boulevard – everyone and everything enjoying themselves, spinning, leaped into her eyes like busy spots.

It seemed to Daph that she had lost her persecutor, but unexpectedly he appeared directly in front of her – appeared so suddenly, as if he was not running but simply standing, arms crossed on his chest, and waiting for her. In a panic Daph jumped over a cast iron fence, scared the rushing cars with swift chaos of movements, and darted to the first entrance she came across. Gripping the long wooden handle, she jerked it, was pleased that there was no code-lock, and dashed up the stairs. She shot past mailboxes, flew up ten steps at a time, and… An iron door rose up directly before her. A cursed code-lock was installed nevertheless, though not below, but for some reason between the first and the second floor. Petty and mean villainy!

Daph realized that she had gotten herself into a trap. To hide in the entrance was obvious foolishness on her part. Indeed if one is on the run, then run to a crowded place. She pushed the door with her shoulder and began to press the buttons chaotically – it was useless. The stupid heartless iron was not going to let her pass. Then Daph grabbed her flute, ready to resort to an attack maglody. Let golden-wings trace her, but she was not surrendering without a fight! “We’re forcing our way through, Depressiac! Get ready!” she whispered. The cat started to hiss and protracted its claws with the sound of a switchblade unlocking. It, like yesterday’s cutlets in the fridge, was always ready.

Footsteps were already thundering on the stairs. First appeared the toes of heavy boots, and in an instant even the persecutor. Drops of sweat on his wide forehead stretched out in a chain like the Kurile Islands. As before, he was keeping a hand in his pocket. “Hey you, stop! Just move and you’ll be sorry!” Daph shouted, quickly bringing the flute to her lips. This was a serious threat. The power of maglody was not inferior to an automatic weapon. In any case, Methodius so asserted, having once observed how Daph used maglody to break into smithereens bricks he tossed up on her request. The stranger moved away, anxiously eyeing the flute. This was already strange. Moronoids were usually amused when someone threatened them with a flute. Probably, the long-standing influence of the proverb “Born a fool, die a fool.” had an effect. “Gosh! You forced me to run a little after all!” he said, panting.

“No jokes! What do you have in your pocket? Take out your hand… slowly… even slower… no sparks, no tricks! I’m warning you!” Daph nervously repeated. “Fine, fine. You also calm down!” After shrugging his shoulders, the man slowly took his hand out of his pocket and unclenched his fist. Daph distrustfully moved a little forward. On his palm lay small silver wings, from which a bright light radiated like waves. They differed from Daphne’s bronze wings, hanging from a lace on her neck, in that both wings were looking back a little, having a barely noticeable sharp bend. If the bronze wings had the likeness of an eagle’s wings – these more resembled the wings of a storm petrel or an albatross.

“What, are you also a guard of Light? But why are your wings not quite right?” Daph asked already much more peacefully, however, without lowering the flute. “Yes, I’m Light. But I’m not from Eden. I’m not among those who consider you a traitor and thirst for punishing you!” the stranger said with a smile. “Hmm… Sounds somewhat drunk. Then where are you from?” Daph asked not without a challenge. Fate again began to tempt with its opportunity for everyday rudeness. “I’m from the Transparent Spheres, my dear child! I’m your guard-keeper! My name is Essiorh!” Daph grew numb. The flute in her hands lowered by itself. The Transparent Spheres, situated at the top of Seven Heavens, were home to those who stood over the guards and protected them. Even Troil’s guardian was there. “You are my guard-keeper? You?” she asked distrustfully. “And why not?” the stranger was astonished.

Daph stared at him with suspicion. It goes without saying that she knew her guard-keeper undoubtedly existed. But that he would look so… eh-eh… unconventional. She must admit that she had visualized something much more respectable. So bald, with tortoise-shell glasses, slightly boring, drawling, with a music folder under his arm, and a tiny speck of green on his cheek, under which hid a small and decent teacher’s pimple… But here… ahem… military boots, all in leather, provocative belt… hmm… to analyze in general, amusing. After securing such a guard-keeper, here she would also be able to remain in her usual style.

Essiorh, after bending his head, looked with a critical eye at his own figure and the belt with the buckle in the shape of a skeletal hand. “Is my body troubling you, my child? Perhaps you don’t know that keepers from the Transparent Spheres, in contrast to you Eden guards, cannot be on Earth in their true bodies? Must admit, this brutal appearance, a mountain of muscles and the chin of a savage also disturbs me; however, it appeared there were no other bodies in our terrestrial storage. Selection was poor to almost nil. Taking into account that a talking dog is somewhat frivolous for a first meeting of a guard and his keeper, I nevertheless would take a human body. Moreover, there were still… hmm… a few other reasons.”

Daph nodded. “Good it’s not a dog. My cat… On the whole, I want to say that we could slightly scratch a dog easily. People would then think that the dog had been frolicking, excuse me, with a circular saw.” “Even a talking one?” Essiorh was horrified. Daph nodded dejectedly. “Alas. I don’t think that it would have time to speak. Even with the word ‘hello’ it would only reach the letter ‘e’…”

Essiorh reproachfully shook his head. “Ahem… Well, so there it was… My good child, I hurried in order to inform you: your immortal essence and your wings are in great danger.” Daph dropped her eyes. Essiorh looked at her with the well-developed incinerating severity. Daph learned severity № 27 of the General Catalogue of Reproaches and Moral Admonitions for Influence on Mortal and Immortal Essences Endowed with Conscience (program of class 97 of guard-educational high school). “Wow, they teach our keepers using the same textbooks!” she was mentally enraptured.

“Listen to me, unhappy child! Listen and be frightened! It’s not enough that you – voluntarily or not – stepped on the slippery path of service to the guards of Gloom, not enough that your new masters steal eide! Not enough that the circle of your contacts is composed of agents, cursed witches, pagan tramps…” he was rattling like a machine gun. After perceiving that he had made a slip of the tongue, Essiorh winced slightly; however, he did not begin to correct himself. He thought it would probably just slip through. “Who are these pagan tramps? Surviving Trojans grown wild? Dangerous specimen probably? Perhaps you had in mind pagan gods?” Daph asked pitilessly.

However, her sting did not succeed. Essiorh already knew how to wriggle out. “…Don’t interrupt! I have no other designation for these pagans imagining themselves as gods… And the succubae, disturbing the righteous sleep of mortals with exciting visions, perhaps they belong to the society, which a guard of Light needs? But the speech is not even about this! After all, all this can be written off as an accident and errors of youth. You did something more terrible, quite nightmarish!” Essiorh lifted a finger and traced an inspired line, one end of which rested against the nearest cloudlet, and the other on Daph’s nose. Daphne waited with trepidation for the continuation. And it followed immediately.