I have a very serious job to do.
If I believed in angels of revenge and justice, I would definitely enroll myself in their legion. Only we have much more complicated things. And it is easier at the same time.
I don't have a cutting sword, a stick or a gingerbread - nothing like that. I only have an umbrella. Two, to be exact, but most often I only use black. The colored one just hangs behind my back like a sword.
A black umbrella, a black suit, a black guard bird beating underneath my eyelids and behind my chest. She always worries about me at dusk.
And the second umbrella I very rarely get out of the cover.
But I was distracted. Today shouldn't have been any different from the others. List of addresses, cab, silent driver. I would have learned to use the service car a long time ago, but I like to powder people's heads too much and do not like to change habits.
Tick-tock, the pendulum swings. Tick-tock.
I have thirteen houses today. If I believed in the signs, I would have suspected something wrong. But the essence, which any person would easily refer to mythology, it is difficult to intimidate some human superstitions.
Usually, there are many more of them. Domov. And people. I'm some kind of executioner. I make people suffer, but believe me, I don't get the slightest pleasure from it. Those who are able to do this, sift out at the beginning. Like those who feel sorry for their... Patients.
Click-click, click the lock. Click-click.
It would be easier if I could pass through walls. But I'm not a dummy, though I can take people's eyes off of me. So, to get into people's homes, I have a great set of picklocks. They can be used to open any lock, even code or electronic. Locks are improved with locks, progress is not in place even in our office. Moreover, in our office.
Knock-knock, beats the heart. Knock-knock.
Black-black heart.
I stop at the headboard of the bed. Thirteenth time today. The plan of action is simple and I know it by heart. If the patient sleeps well, just open a black umbrella over him. If he sleeps superficially, let him breathe in some sand. It's like a narcotic sleeping pill. And then open the umbrella. If the patient is too...
I can't say for sure now what stopped me at that moment. I was lying in front of me on the bed of an ordinary person, like thousands before and thousands after him. But for some reason I didn't get a black umbrella to put my nightmares on the sleeping one. I did not throw him into the abyss of Limba. And even the "sand" remained in my bag, tied to my belt.
I just stood there and looked in his face, couldn't take my eyes off the black bird in my chest, my faithful bird guard, didn't beat my wings, but choked and cooed like singing a song. I swear, in all my years of service, it was my first time!
I was so stunned by it that when my patient suddenly sat down on the bed and looked at me with black eyes as deep as the night itself, I didn't have time to trouble myself.
- Gotcha! - He smiled, and I shuddered with his smile. The Abyss looked at me with his eyes. - I finally managed to catch you!
- How did you do that? - I asked in a strong voice. - How did you get the Guardian to sing?
- The Guardian only sings on two occasions," my patient said gently. What was his name? I never remember such things. He got out of bed and approached me with a smooth dancing step. To tell you the truth, we were only one step apart. Which option do you like better?
- What do you want from me? - I finally squeezed out my eyes, trying to take my eyes off the dangerous, shiny blackness of his gaze for a moment. - What do you want me to do... Jim?
I remembered his name after all. Rare luck. A name gives power if you know how to use it.
- Oh, what I want... - He sighed a dark sigh, gently putting his hand on my shoulder. - I want to sleep banal. Without your nightmares, my dear Alamedas.
I involuntarily shudder when he calls it that name. Who the hell is he? How does he know him?
- And what are you going to do? - Still, I ask, trying to keep the tone as indifferent as possible.
- It's not the right question to ask - it's gently pulling vowels in words and it's more and more like a spell song. I shudder again and look under my feet - it is! I stand in a chalky magical circle. And his voice wraps around my strength, my will, with a slippery silk cord. A guard bird sings. And no nightingale trills will equal her singing. - The right question is what are we going to do...
He stops circling and stops right in front of me, then suddenly pours himself into my eyes again, looking into my chest with his palms.
- So what do you like better: love or death? - he cooks. - Alamedas-Alamedas, show me colored dreams...
Tick-tock, the pendulum is swinging. And it falls.