Love Of Ages

— Ira! the girl screeched. “I don’t want to end up in the next world ahead of time!”

A little more, one step, and the girlfriends would have been under the wheels of a scheduled bus. The metal giant came to a halt with an ear-piercing creak, and from its window an avalanche of the driver's choice curses and the screams of passengers fell in an avalanche. They fell like dominoes, trying to grab onto each other in a panic.

- I don't want to be late. Miss Mila does not accept if you stay even for a minute. Hurry! - Ira threw over her shoulder, crossing the road, and dragged her friend along the broken sidewalk. “Do you know that she has an appointment for three weeks?! For three!

“God…” Marina shook her head.

“Only, when we come in, it’s not worth mentioning the gentlemen, I don’t think she will,” she took a breath lost from running, “like it.”

- I can not go into the apartment at all. I'll wait in the yard.

Ira stopped so abruptly that her friend, who minced after her, ran into her by inertia.

“You won’t leave me, Marin!” I alone am afraid. They say she is a very strong witch, - looking around, she whispered in her ear: - A real witch.

- What, and a crochet nose? And a wart on the tip the size of a dried cherry? - Marina never believed in the supernatural, trusting reason and relying on logic. And she considered herself an atheist, denying any deities and the existence of any forces that affect the fate of people, but she regularly wore a cross on a thin silver chain.

- I do not know. Everyone describes it differently. - Ira pulled her friend's hand, urging her on, and told already on the way: - Mom's friend was talking about a young golden-haired girl. And her husband twisted at his temple and talked about a terrible old woman.

- Well built business. Who is free, that and Mrs. Mila. In the morning a beauty, in the evening she is replaced by an old woman, so you can work twenty-four hours a day.

You don't understand, they went together. Together.

Girlfriends have passed through a high archway. Three-story houses surrounded them hostilely. The eye sockets of the huge windows were frightening with blackness, and the unnatural silence forced them to look at each other. No honking cars, no rumble of roadworks, just the chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves.

- Seventh house, seventh apartment. - Ira repeated by heart the memorized address.

- Also the street of the seventh Guards army. Marina read the index. “Lady Mila has a strange fondness for the number seven. The words, as if amplified by a megaphone, climbed up the brick walls.

- Quiet!

At the entrance to the right entrance girlfriends expected another oddity. A riot of colors hid the windows of the first floor. Flowers are everywhere: in narrow flowerbeds between paved paths, in massive concrete tubs, which, if desired, cannot be moved even by a crowd of adult men, greenery seemed to grow out of nowhere, rising along the stucco molding of the old house almost to the roof. The fact that roses bloomed next to tulips did not hide from the eyes, and scarlet dahlias blazed under bushy lilacs with white clusters of small flowers. And the biggest oddity was the wrong time of year for flowering - mid-March. The sun was just entering into force, delighting with warm rays, and here it is ...

“I told you,” Ira whispered, holding the handle of the front door.

Marina feigned indifference to the view that opened up to her, counting in her mind the cost of organizing a front garden and estimating Lady Mila's earnings. In disbelief, the girl tugged at the ivy lash, but it held on tight, and no fastenings were visible to the human eye.

There was a sign outside apartment number seven that said, "Come in without knocking."

- What, just go in like that? - Ira covered the metal handle with her palm, but changed her mind and knocked on the canvas of the carved wooden door.

"I don't think they teach reading in schools anymore," came a displeased, croaking grunt. “They knock so loud it rings in my head,” the voice continued to grumble.

Gathering courage, the girls entered. The corridor of the apartment, like the entrance, met with twilight and a thick smell of herbs and heavy incense.

"Hurry up," a woman's voice said. “My time is precious.

“I think you underestimate your services,” the same croaking voice grumbled.

— T-s-s.

The many closed doors on both sides of the corridor gave her friends the idea that Mrs. Mila bought the entire first floor of the apartment building for her sole use.

Ira slowed down at the open doors, cleared her throat, stepped into the room and said:

- Hello, Mila.

- Good afternoon. Have a seat. A wrinkled, dark-spotted hand waved at the high-backed sofa. -What brings you to me? Who will I be talking to?

“With me, Lady Mila,” Irina said, peering into the twilight that hides the appearance of the old woman.

- You can call me the Witch. Come to me. - The witch invited to sit down at the round table. - What do you want from me?

“There is a guy,” Irina began the story in a trembling voice. Her muscles spasmed with fear, and her tongue stiffened. The high ceilings of the square room went to infinity, look up and you will not see the ceiling, so it seemed to the girl. Antique massive furniture talked to those present, creaking for no apparent reason, thick curtains on the windows completely hid the sun, and Ira examined a stuffed large raven on the closet. “There is a guy,” she repeated, returning her gaze to her interlocutor, “but he does not notice me.

"Do you want to tie him to you?" Came for a love potion? The old woman leaned forward, placing her knotted hands on the table. The dim light of a single candle illuminated an ugly face. Oblong, even long, with a hooked nose. With a sharp tip, he touched the huge camel lips.

- Y-y-yes. - Ira was hypnotized by round bulging eyes without eyelids.

- And you are ready to see him next to you day and night?

- Ready.

“He will be the only one in your life and will never let another man in,” the old woman said warningly.

-Good.

- Ira, maybe not? - Marina said, shrinking from fear.

“Be quiet, you don’t believe in my strength at all,” the old woman interrupted imperiously.

So, Irina. - The fortune teller covered the girl’s hand with a cold palm and pressed it down to the table, - should I dry Vanechka until you die or like that, for a year or two?

"I didn't say his name!" - Opening her mouth in surprise, Ira tried to pull the brush out of the grip.

The old woman chuckled nastily, relaxing her fingers. The sofa, wardrobe, table, chairs, everything in the room laughed raspily, supporting their mistress, even the stuffed raven clicked its beak.

Erin, let's get out of here. And do you need a Queen? He's a dumb jock with one twist, and I saw how he kicked the cat that sat down on his car to warm up.

- Well, girl, decide. The old woman widened her already huge eyes.

- Want! - left the money in the middle of the table.

Long fingers wrapped around the bill, hiding it behind a ragged woolen shawl.

-As you wish! yelled the Witch, blowing out the flame of the candle.

Left in pitch darkness, the friends did not dare to move. A woman's voice whispered incomprehensible words, and someone repeated and repeated after him.

The soft hairs on Ira's neck stirred when she felt the wet, cold kiss. It was as if a dead man had touched her lips.

- Irina and Ivan forever! - resounded somewhere above and slid down the walls to the floor in streams of icy air sliding down the legs.

A ray of light slipped from under the closed doors, the girlfriends, forgetting about self-control and endurance, ran out of Vorozhei, spurred on by other people's laughter, stomping loudly.

- Why are you like that? - The raven flew off the closet and landed on the table, he could not calm down and was still barking with laughter.

They've come for a show. The young goldilocks pulled back the curtains. And they got what they wanted. And you, Pascal, should be restrained.

- Open the windows wide open, I'm about to suffocate. Raven pretended not to hear the remark.

“I will turn you to stone, Pascal. Narrowing her bright blue eyes, the girl stared at the bird.

“Oh-oh,” moaned the raven, putting a wing in the chest area. - Do not scare, who will create special effects for you?

“And that’s true,” the witch laughed loudly, inhaling the fresh air.

— Who else is there? Expressing displeasure, Pascal loudly flapped his wings. “Reception is over,” he called out. But the knock was repeated. What a persistent person. Witches used to be respected, even feared. And now they are almost knocking on the door with their foot.

Shut up, Pascal. He really needs my help. Covering her shoulders with a shawl, the old woman shuffled out of the room.

- Are you a witch? - A boy of seven or eight years old, frowning funny, looked from head to toe a golden-haired girl in blue jeans and a white T-shirt.

“Yes,” she replied. - What, it doesn't look like it?

“Nope,” the child answered honestly. Too pretty and young.

“Hmmm,” she drawled, removing the prickly shawl from her shoulders. “A pure soul without malicious intent,” the witch thought happily. The boy, looking into her eyes, sparkled with kindness and naivety. But only pure souls see the real face.

“Perhaps I was wrong. The boy turned around on his axis, looked at the other two doors, completely inconspicuous, ordinary, like in their apartment: large, heavy, metal. He repeatedly asked his parents why such uncomfortable and ugly doors were needed. And he always received one answer: “So that bad people cannot enter our house. The house is a fortress, where it is safe and calm. But what if someone or something bad is already inside the fortress?

- I'm not mistaken. Can't you see the witchcraft?

- I see that flowers are blooming under your windows, but I know that it is still too early. We were told around the world.

- Well, come on. You didn't just look for me, did you?

The boy trampled a little, remembering the prohibitions and instructions of his parents, but stepped over the threshold of someone else's apartment. How could such a beautiful aunt harm him? And if she is a real witch, the one his grandmother told about, then he will definitely ask for help!

The witch led the child into the kitchen, where Pascal was seated on the open window and breathlessly, noisily drew in the scent of flowers.

- What a great! And is he alive? the boy asked. - Can I touch it?

- Not. The witch placed three ceramic cups on the table. Pascal doesn't like to be touched. The raven nodded in agreement and flew over to the table. - What is your name?

“Seryozha,” the child replied, and then he began to doubt. If dad finds out that I gave my name to a stranger, he will swear a lot.

- Will not. We know each other, my name is Mila. But promise me that you will never, ever enter someone else's apartment without your parents again!

- Promise. I know that not all people are good.

Pascal croaked derisively and shook his head, wondering at the child's innocence. Picking up the bagel with his beak, he carefully dipped it into the tea, waited for it to get wet, and swallowed it.

- Wow! Is there anything else he can do?

- Can do a lot. Pascal will definitely show you, just tell me why you were looking for me?

There is always something strange going on in our house. Someone beats the dishes, and the parents think of me. But it's not me, honestly! I said I didn't touch the blue plate, but Mom and Dad didn't believe me. They said that you need to be able to admit your mistakes. And at night I hear the clatter in the corridor, and sometimes someone runs along the ceiling. Yesterday I even hid the flashlight under the covers, turned it on sharply, but did not have time. But I know for sure that this is not a fantasy! It jumped on me. Twice!

Raven stopped tea and listened attentively to the child.

- How long has this been happening? - Mila drank tea in small sips, wondering in her mind who it could be dirty.

- For a long time. As we moved here in the summer, it began to rumble and make noise. - Seryozha overcame embarrassment and stole a chocolate candy from under the raven's beak. - Only my grandmother and I hear, but mom and dad do not.

"I see," the witch replied calmly.

"So will you help me?"

- I'll help. I'll drink tea and help. And who told you about me?

- Grandmother told me, and her new girlfriends. We live next door. She explained how to find you. My grandma is old, it is hard for her to walk.

“You finish your drink, I need to take something with me.”

The witch took out a lady's red purse, put a ritual knife and a linden twig into it, became thoughtful, looking at the shelves full of all sorts of witchcraft utensils, decided not to risk it, and grabbed a horseshoe from a dead horse.

“My room with my grandmother is at the end of the corridor. And this is the kitchen, there is a toilet, and here,” Seryozha pointed to the second door from the entrance, “the parents’ room. Aunt Mila, just be careful, she makes noise and rumbles now and during the day. He peered through the open door, not daring to go in.

- I understood you. You stay here and don't come in, okay?

“Sure,” said the boy.