Midnight Academy. Born at midnight - стр. 16

The last statement she made was no longer for me. Hearing this simple phrase, the Gray Lady silently took her chair again and feigned painstaking work. We freely walked past her desk to the massive gilded door that was located on the right.

The simple curls on the canvas sparkled under the dim light of the lamps. The door looked like the entrance to a treasury and nothing else, but behind it there was a wide staircase of two flights, with carved railings and finials in the form of folded wings of bats.

I even dared to touch one.

Having gone up to the second floor, we just as easily found ourselves in another room. It was almost no different from the previous one, but what is most striking is that we were greeted by the same Gray Lady with a face that did not express any emotions at all.

There were two options: either I had gone crazy, or my mother had gone crazy. However, it could not be ruled out that we had both been out of our minds for a long time.

Questions, questions, questions… Biting my tongue, I kept expecting that we would now meet with someone from the top of this mental hospital. With someone who will quickly and succinctly insert all the necessary information into my head, and then we will go on a new trip. Somewhere where the maniac who was pursuing us will definitely not get to.

But reality, as always, did not agree with the fantasies.

Silently nodding to the librarian, my mother took out a dagger with large red stones in the hilt from her jacket and suddenly turned to me. More precisely, to the door behind me, and therefore I had to actively step aside.

I watched, feeling confused, as she inserted the blade into the gap between the door and the floor. Repeating the outline of the doorway with its point, the mother straightened up and opened the door, turning the round gilded handle.

She let me go ahead.

I went down with caution. So far nothing has changed in the surroundings. The same staircase, the same walls and tops. Even the hall on the first floor is still the same. And the Gray Lady is the same. Stands there, doesn't blink.

Looking at my mother, I received a warm, indulgent smile. And it was a no-brainer that she knew something that I had no idea about yet. But the longer I had to wait for the explosion, the more terrible the pictures of my near future became.

And yet I was the first to go out onto the porch. She went out, looked around and almost counted the steps. The parent caught me by the shoulders literally at the last moment.

Her gaze again expressed understanding. She seemed to know how much confusion was in me now and what feelings and doubts were overwhelming me.

Now I was going down much slower. Firstly, because it finally dawned on me: instead of bright day, we were greeted by night. Secondly, the street was radically different from Ashwool Street. Instead of sprawling construction projects and brand new townhouses, there were long Victorian-style houses with white trim, carved corners and low railings around the balconies.

Two horses harnessed to a dark carriage rushed past us. Here and there there were passers-by who seemed to have stepped out of the pages of a history textbook or the frames of a pseudo-historical film.

“You will study here,” my mother said, as soon as we stopped at the gates of the academy, behind which stood a gloomy tall building with spiers and ugly gargoyles on the ledges.