Fall in love in a weekwe get by

“The farther, the more beautiful,” Norwood said slowly and suddenly rushed forward so quickly that I had to almost run to catch up with him. – Brainless idiot. An extremely logical ending, if you think about it. Wild. ?absurd. But logical. What is she trying to achieve? Why does no one still know about her death? If she sets conditions for you, it means she has a goal. Thanks to which she hangs around here in the form of a ghost. Problems with the portals, that means. Why suddenly? What do they have to do with it? No, it doesn't add up. What kind of ritual was this, do you know?

– Only from her words. – I hesitated. Now the moment has come when you have to decide whether to tell the truth to the end or continue to remain silent… about the worst thing. I didn’t tell Sabella about the curse, but she guessed it herself. Dougal is no more stupid than his mother. Part of me was terrified at the thought of him finding out the truth. For some reason I was sure that this would cancel out everything. A self-respecting man will not fall in love on pain of death. And, to be honest, I would be offended to know that I was chosen only as an alternative to quick and inevitable death. But… But is it really fair to hide something like this? He has the right to decide for himself. And also… Another question is whether I trust him or not. I consider him capable of making independent, correct decisions, or I’m ready to decide for him all my life, even if everything suddenly works out.

I wrapped my arms around myself and confessed. The feeling was frightening – as if I was stepping into the abyss of my own free will.

– Love spell. On you.

– What?! Are you kidding me? Is she crazy?

“She wanted attention,” I explained. – She wasn't in love, if that's what you mean. Just an ambitious fool.

– Attention? From me? Yes, I would turn her life into hell faster than the consequences of any ritual love spell! No. Not an idiot. This cannot be defined in words.

Norwood hardly expected any answer or explanation. It was as if he had completely forgotten about me, switching to Charlotte and her ritual. He kept speeding up and speeding up his steps, and out of stubbornness I didn’t even understand, I stayed close. Although we had to catch up with him, breaking into a run every now and then. Where are we going like this? Somehow it seemed that Norwood himself could not answer. The wind whistled in my ears, pushed me back, threw withered leaves and rare, sharp drops of rain into my face. I didn’t look around, trying to keep up, and only caught my breath when he suddenly stopped.

We stood on the very edge of the cliff, and below us lay a black, almost perfectly round, rippling lake. Quite a bit, I could clearly see the far shore – boulders at the water's edge, flying trees on the hillside. But perhaps because of the dark surface, which reflected the cloudy sky, or because of the dank cold that gripped me, it seemed very deep. Even bottomless, and I don’t care that it doesn’t happen that way. In this world, this is not possible.

For some reason, I immediately remembered the legends about water evil spirits: kelpies, grindylows, water maidens. Maybe here these are not legends at all, but harsh reality.

“I see,” Norwood said suddenly, and I shuddered, returning to reality. – This is not a whim, not a goal, but an attachment. On your own, miraculously surviving body and on the object of the love spell. How bad is it, Miss – or Mrs? – Sullivan? How much time is left? How much was it initially? A week or more? Is it time to write a will?

He still didn’t look at me, looking somewhere into the distance, across the lake. And the voice sounded much calmer now than at the beginning of my revelations.

“Miss,” I answered. – And, sorry, but I again missed the thread of your reasoning. However, it doesn’t matter… just interesting. I have always admired people who can draw the right conclusions with a minimum of data. – He was silent. Waiting for answers and not agreeing to divert the conversation? I turned away. – It was a week. Left… Two days, not counting today.

– And you all intended to remain silent until the sad ending? Brilliant idea.

“As if that changes anything,” I muttered. – Do you know how to fall in love when necessary?

“I don’t know how to fall in love at all, Miss Sullivan.” But I can think rationally. And, of course, I would not waste the last week of my life on what I almost spent it on, by your grace.

This “last week” hit him like a baseball bat in the gut. He doesn't even consider the possibility of this damn true, sincere or whatever kind of love? Even hypothetically, even as a tiny possibility?! Just like that – a categorical and final “no”?!

Why am I so unlucky with men?! For what?!

– By my grace? – I turned around sharply. My hands were itching to hit me in the face… in this impassive face, indifferent to everything except my science! – Oh, thanks! ? I probably only dreamed of raking through your mail in my last days!