Escort For The Witch - страница 21

Шрифт
Интервал


“What?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Nothing,” she hesitantly made her way to the exit. Rather hesitantly. What a day it’s been, huh? A real mess. I watched her miniature figure recede, trying to understand what was happening to her. Everything was different today. Sabrina was different. She was wearing baggy black sweatpants and a khaki hoodie. Old, worn-out sneakers adorned her feet. What’s wrong with her? She pulled the hood over her head, put on a leather jacket, and walked unsteadily down the corridor.

Unable to think of anything smarter to do, I followed her. Then Claire dashed past me like a little tornado. Oh, this omnipresent Claire!

“Hey, Jack!” she squealed and rushed on.

I put on my coat, wrapped the scarf around my neck, and headed towards the exit, stopping by the girls and, pretending to be searching my pockets for a lighter.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sabrina staring at me. After a moment’s thought, I concluded that if she wanted to talk to me, she’d find a way to swallow her pride and descend to the level of mere mortals. And until then, there was no need to worry. As I stepped outside, I overheard her telling Claire that she would be going home alone by tram today. “Since when does Sabrina take the tram home?” I wondered, heading towards my car. Well, it’s time to visit an old friend before he forgets my name altogether.

I looked at the dark, overcast sky, and felt tiny drops of cold rain hitting my face.

It’s hard to believe that just a few days ago New Orleans was a lush, sun-drenched oasis of endless celebration. Now, everything looked completely different. With the onset of fall, the city seemed deserted, turning into a gloomy and unfriendly place for the occasional curious onlooker; perfect setting for horror fans. And there was plenty of that kind of thing among the locals. For a dollar or two, everyone would tell you this or that house was haunted by previous owners who had died or vanished mysteriously. Everyone seemed to know where to find practicing Voodoo masters; everyone wanted to give you the Mardi Gras beads that were supposed to protect you from curses, hexes, and other nonsense that tourists are so eager to believe in.

The rain picked up, and I quickly settled behind the wheel, brushing raindrops off my coat, starting the car, and once again glancing towards Sabrina. The girl