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So, let’s sum it all up. At the age of twenty-four, I live in a quirky greenhouse house, own a splendid car, and a slightly crazy but brave cat… The cat! I nearly forgot to mention that I am an official and proud owner of a cat named Gigantor, whom I had found and rescued from a sewer on Toulouse Street. He had been rather bad and almost ready to depart this world, but still managed to pull through.

His eyes are like spinning saucers and his color a strange brownish-black; he is unapologetically obese for his breed, and has a disturbing habit of eating toothpaste.

The first time I had caught him in the act I got so scared and I rushed him to the nearest vet clinic. It’s not every day that you see your cat drop dead on the floor, literally foaming at the mouth. I was ready to swear on the Bible that my cat was

having an epileptic seizure until I smelled the sharp scent of mint. Every month now, consistently, I find a partially bitten, sometimes heavily chewed, tube of toothpaste. And Gigantor writhes in “terrifying agony of paste-plexis seizures.”

Having observed him for many years, I can confidently say that he gets a certain thrill from it. Occasionally, he has bouts of inexplicable heroism, and secretly watching how passionately and courageously my cat attacks the sprinklers installed in the greenhouse, I can assert with all responsibility that in his past life, Gigantor was none other than a brave and valiant warrior fiercely attacking a mortal enemy…

So, that’s how we live, me and my apathetic, toothpaste-eating cat warrior, alone in a greenhouse, surrounded by bushes. What else? Oh yes, the number of piercings in my ears has reached three. I got new tattoos. Also in stock: a best friend who’s a drunkard, his sister who’s a witch, but showing no hint of any gift whatsoever, an ancient Order, and…

The door to the lecture hall creaked softly and pulled me out of my self-analysis that would have made both Schopenhauer and Nietzsche feel jealous and lacking.

I raised my head, trying to make out the person who had so boldly interrupted my philosophical reflections. It was she, and she was late. Naturally. Lately, that’s all she’s been doing, being late. My curiosity satisfied, I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes.