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– It's dog cold outside, Royce.
The American glanced at his hand and, after a brief hesitation, tucked it into the warm pocket of his billowing jacket.
– Hi, Morgan! How did you pass? – he asked cheerfully.
– Yeah, the usual," I said, trying to keep it casual. Royce was starting to get on my nerves, but he didn't seem to realise it
– As usual is great, isn't it? I never doubted you, mate! – Royce said with an enthusiastic smile.
When I heard what a flattering word this overly friendly mortal called me, I felt a little surprised. In my worldview, the title "friend" had to be earned, not bestowed on strangers.
– How are you? – I asked politely, trying to keep up an unwanted conversation because of my damned sense of tact and thinking that people could be too intrusive. Royce McRessor is one of those people.
My interlocutor smiled his white-toothed American smile.
– Top marks! – he exclaimed, while I was plotting how to get rid of his presence.
– Congratulations on that. – This time I couldn't hide the irritation in my voice, but Royce was so happy that he didn't seem to notice my sarcasm. Or didn't want to. – I'm in a hurry.
I walked around him and headed for the car park, but suddenly remembering my pla
– Morgan! – I heard behind me.
I sighed unhappily, but turned around.
– I'll see you at the next exam! – Royce waved at me and walked to the car park.
Finally. Cut loose.
While I was reluctantly exchanging phrases with the a
The girl took out an umbrella (also black in colour) from her bag and, opening it, walked across the courtyard towards the exit. As she passed me, she lowered her gaze, as if not wanting to meet mine, and sighed irritably. I realised that I was staring at her, so I looked away, pretending it was an accident. The delicious scent of yesterday's stranger's blood overpowered the blood scents of everyone in the university courtyard.
"I'm acting like the ultimate fool. No, like an idiot!" – I thought angrily, and the urge to walk around the city suddenly vanished.
What's that girl doing here? If she's at the same school as me, how come I've never met her before? Why did she intrigue me so much?
I suddenly realised that I was standing in the middle of a half-empty courtyard, staring after that girl.
– What the hell is wrong with me? – I cursed out loud and headed for the car park, marvelling at my unusual behaviour on the way.
The fast ride calmed me down, but I thought about the strange stranger all the way to the castle. Why did I remember her? Her, among all these mortals? Could it be that her unusual appearance is so striking that I involuntarily pay attention to her? It would be interesting to hear her voice… What? Nonsense. I abruptly dismissed the thought and resolved to forget and never bring her up again. She's just a mortal. One of seven and a half billion on Earth. Nothing exceptional about her.
Suddenly I remembered what a pathetic idiot I had looked like in the university courtyard, and it made me smile derisively. I laughed at myself.
Before long, I was at the castle. As it turned out, there was a surprise waiting for me there.
– Put on some decent clothes and come down to the hall! We're waiting for you! – My mother greeted me as soon as I arrived at the castle. This request made me realise that my plan of seclusion had been shattered.
Our castle was once again visited by guests: the huge garage of our cloister was filled with expensive foreign cars that were unfamiliar to me. They were our friends. Naturally, someone of ours, for we had no mortal friends.
Having changed into black jeans and a burgundy-coloured classic shirt, I went down to the big fireplace hall, which became the centre of attention of a hundred of ours. It turned out that the numerous Polish Mroczek clan had arrived. Among the guests was Mariska, Markus's lover. The two of them stood by the fireplace and talked quietly. I was happy to see my brother happy and admired them until the sweet couple noticed me.
– Well, you're here at last! We've been waiting for you! – laughed softly at my brother.
I walked towards them, but on the way I was surprised to find among the familiar faces two unfamiliar beauties. They did not belong to the Mroczeks, for all the members of that large family were golden-haired, and these strangers had dark hair.
– Mariszka, it's good to see you. – I gallantly kissed her beautiful thin hand.
She smiled indulgently.
– Isn't it time for us to switch to "you"? We've known each other so long that it makes me laugh when one of the Morgans addresses me as if she were seeing me for the first time," Mariszka said, her beautiful grey-blue eyes sparkling merrily.
– Whatever you say," I said with a smile. – Markus is in good hands now.
– You're wrong: Mariszka is in my hands! – my brother merrily parried, putting his arm round his beloved's waist.
– You scoundrel, always thinking only of himself! Cedric, your brother is an incorrigible possessive! – Mariszka said just as cheerfully at Markus's remark.
We laughed. But suddenly I noticed that Mariska was looking at the two strangers with a fleeting glance.
This caused me to smile slightly. I knew why she had brought them – to marry one of them to me, and I was unpleasantly surprised by these attempts to interfere in my life.
– These are my friends from Russia: Emma and Samantha," Mariszka introduced her. I greeted the girls delicately, saying all the appropriate words about the joy of our acquaintance and so on, but I did not kiss their hands. I felt unpleasant that they had agreed to take part in this adventure, and I let them know that I had figured out their plans, ignoring their beautiful, outstretched hands to me.
The guests tried, with mild surprise, to pretend as if they had no claim to a kiss at all, but they failed rather badly. I knew that in their hearts they were thinking that I was behaving badly to the ladies. But that was to my advantage.
– Cedric, we hear you're going to Russia? – Emma asked me, smiling sweetly.
I noted with a
– I'm going to," I answered coldly enough.
– If you have any uncertainties about Russia, you can ask us: we have lived there quite a long time and know a great deal about the Russian character. Russians are very different from other mortals," Samantha put in.
– How so? – Markus chuckled.
– All Russians are optimists. All of them. But words ca
– And the blood of Russians? Does it have characteristics inherent only to it? – I asked, still relaxing a little. Talking about the country I had dreamed of travelling to had taken my fancy, and for a while I let my guard down.
– Naturally, but again, I can't tell you what it is – you just have to try it," Samantha smiled at me.