Escort For The Witch - стр. 20
“Oh my,” she whispered, pressing her hand to her stomach.
Without thinking about the possible consequences, I rushed to her and grabbed her hand just above the elbow. She was burning with fever, sweat beads forming on her forehead. I reached for the phone hanging on the wall and was about to dial 911 when Sabrina pulled the receiver out of my grip.
“Where are you going to call?” she whispered anxiously.
“What a stupid question? You need a doctor,” I replied decisively, feeling Sabrina release my hand and forcing a feeble smile.
“No, Jack! What are you thinking? I’m fine. Probably just something I ate.
Really, everything's fine,” she said soothingly and hung up the phone.
Perhaps she felt a little better, but the wild glint in her eyes didn’t disappear. She looked away, and seemed paler to me. I followed her gaze but didn’t notice anything unusual. Everything was the same: the kitchen furniture in its place, the same old alarm clock that hadn’t been moved for years. Nothing that could terrify a person. Suddenly, Sabrina groaned again and once more brought her hand to her stomach.
“Jack, this is the first and last time I ask you to help me… get me a chair and…
and bring water, please,” she muttered. Trying not to curse, I carefully lifted her, carried to the living room. There I laid her on the couch.
“Wait a second,” I muttered and left to fetch some water. Once again, I scanned the kitchen but didn’t see anything that could have frightened her. I had no choice
but to return to the living room. Sabrina took a few sips from the glass and brushed the damp hair from her forehead.
“Some virus,” she murmured, tilting her head back and taking a few deep breaths.
“Yeah, a virus. Should I call a doctor or take you to the hospital?”
“Or maybe we should have lunch?” She smiled. And there was something in that smile that made my heart sink again.
“How did you wake up Eric?” Sabrina asked curiously, nodding towards the bathroom.
“You gotta have skills,” I replied, not without an air of mischief.
There was a deafening crash followed by a string of curses, coming from the depths of the house. Then the slam of the door, and finally, a loud yawn. Eric entered the living room almost steadily.
He looked much better, but still disheveled and clearly unaware of what was happening around him. I noticed a shallow cut on his left cheek. Naturally, Eric noticed it too.
“I shaved,” he grumbled, poking the cheek with a cotton swab.
“Clearly,” Sabrina retorted sharply, catching her brother’s attention.
Noticing Sabrina, Eric immediately rushed to her and sat down on the floor next her.
“Are you feeling bad again, Sabi?” he asked anxiously, breathing alcohol fumes into her face.
“You’ll definitely make me feel bad now!” Sabrina grimaced, lightly punched Eric’s shoulder, got up and left the room. Watching her leave, I turned back to the squatting figure on the floor, the hunched-over guy who clearly didn't want to continue the conversation started in his room.
“I think we have something to discuss,” I said softly, breaking the awkward pause.
Eric shot me an angry glance, then laboriously got up and, dramatically, trudged back to his alcohol-soaked den.
“Have you eaten, who called me yesterday?” he spoke first, ushering me into his room.