The Dead House - Kurtagich Dawn (лучшие книги читать онлайн бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗

“Do you have to do that right in front of me?” Carly asks from somewhere off camera.

“You wait,” Naida says, and the camera pans back onto Carly. “You’ll have a beau one of these days, and your wild side will be set loose—no longer caged and celibate! Then we’ll see who’s making grotesque public displays of affection.”

The camera turns back on Naida, close in so that we can see only her darting, penetrating eyes as she whispers, “And I think I know who that might be…”

The camera cuts away to a shot of a blond boy, around five eleven, stalking into the room. His neatly styled hair belies his casual saunter.

“Mr. Brett [surname omitted], class president, voted cutest in the year and most likely to succeed, probably owing to the fact that he is, in all honesty, pretty damn gorgeous—”

Scott, off camera, protests. “Oi!”

“—and also because his dad’s [redacted]. Yessireee, you heard that right, lasses. We’re rubbing shoulders with the elite.”

“You’re one to talk,” Scott mutters, off camera. “Isn’t your grandmother some priestess or something?”

“Aye,” Naida agrees, “she’s a priestess, but that’s nothing next to this pretty boy.”

Brett bows. “Thank you. Thank you very much. Just let my father know that I’m ‘rubbing shoulders’ with the likes of you, and then let’s see how ‘elite’ I remain.”

Naida, turning the camera on herself, says, “That’s true. He’d disown you, for sure. Especially if he knew you joined my Mala group last year.”

She sticks out her tongue, revealing a diamante bar piercing, which she wiggles for the camera.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Scott says. “Hey, are we doing that again this year?”

“You know, you’re more conventional than you think,” Brett says to Naida, “even if you were born on Fair Island, the most Mala-centric and remotest place on the planet.”

“Was it conventional when I taught you how to put together a dochas charm?” she scoffs. “And you used it to wish for a good cricket game. God almighty.”

“Oh, yeah, the hope charm. That was cool.” Scott pulls Naida in for a lengthy kiss, during which the camera lowers. Brett remains in frame. He glances at Carly several times, but she fails to notice.

“Hey, man,” he says, addressing Scott. “We on for Saturday?”

Scott, who plonks down onto the sofa beside Carly with little notice of her, nods. “Yeah, whatever. I don’t care what we do, just so long as we’re out of here for the day. I’m sick of this place already.”

A shadow passes over the camera, and Naida’s hand shakes; the camera almost falls.

“Whoa—”

She lifts the camera again; Carly comes into focus. “What?”

“Thought I saw… I—nothing.” She laughs. “I should have got a better camera.” There is a pause and then Naida adds, “Scott, Brett, can you leave us alone for a minute?”

“I’m sort of busy,” Scott says, the sound muffled as though his mouth is full. A pause. “All right, fine. I’ve got to finish Triebourn’s essay anyway. Later, though, yeah? Your room?”

“Piss off! Go away, now, now, now!”

“Cheers, babe. Feeling the love.”

He and Brett leave.

A moment of silence followed by the squeaking of springs as Naida sits beside Carly. “What’s up, C?”

“I wish you wouldn’t imply things like that about Brett and me. I don’t like him like that—at all. He’s…” She shudders, shuts her eyes, and breathes deeply for a few moments. “Look, I’m never going to have a boyfriend. I don’t want a boyfriend, Naida. I’m okay with it.”

“Don’t say that. You never know what might happen. One day it might be possible. Fall in love, have a family—”

“I’ll never have what you have,” she snaps, and then her voice softens. “And that’s not your fault, Naids.” Carly takes her hand. “You don’t have to feel bad. The last thing I want is for you to feel bad… Just don’t do that. Don’t say things about Brett and me, okay? You just make everything harder.”

“You don’t know what is or isn’t possible, though. We could put a dochas charm together like last year. You could wish for love.”

Carly stares at Naida; she looks like she might cry. “No. I can’t.”

“But why?”

Carly snatches her hand away. “Kaitlyn has a voice too, remember? We’re fine like this. This is how it has to be.”

“You and Kaitie… two souls in one body… it’s dangerous. I told you before—”

“Your Scottish Mala stuff won’t make a difference. I know… And I know what my life is going to be. I’ll never have what I want. I’ll never have who I love.”

“You don’t know—”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

Naida puts the camera on the coffee table so that neither of them is in the shot. It continues to record.

“You can talk to me, you know,” Naida says softly. “Maybe I can listen… if not understand or, I don’t know, help.”

There is a muffled exhale and a pause. “Lately… I’ve been feeling weird. I don’t know—I can’t really describe it. Just a weird feeling in my skin… like there’s someone—”

The camera wobbles and then spins to face both Carly and Naida. Naida sits back down, but Carly only stares at the lens, mouth parted.

“Like there’s someone…?” Naida prompts.

Carly shuts her mouth, swallows, and gets to her feet.

“Carly, wait—what is it?”

Naida picks up the camera, and we see Carly’s haunted and retreating figure.

“It’s nothing. Never mind.”

“Hold up, this is important—”

[END OF CLIP]

5 153 days until the incident

Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson

Thursday, 2 September 2004, 1:42 am

Dorm

Naida’s eyes are dead oceans on steroids. But when she saw I was here and that her precious Carly was safe, they warmed into something less tepid. It was kind of beautiful, kind of revolting.

It used to be Carly and me against the world—her notes guided me through the hours of darkness, and mine gave her courage in the brightness of the sun. We were each other’s armor. That’s a little less true these days.

And it’s Naida’s fault.

Naida. Carly’s best only friend. She’s probably the only person who knows about us and actually believes us. Except she thinks it’s something to do with two souls in one body and an excess of power, confused spirits—blah, blah.

Last year Carly gushed about Naida the first day they met. I think that was probably the worst Message Book entry of my life. Actually, no. The worst one was the one where she told me that Naida knew. Knew our secret. I remember that one like it’s seared on my brain. She wrote, “Naida is amazing. You will love her. She’s just like you! Funny, sarcastic, reckless. Kaitie, it’s so nice to have someone know about us! I hope you don’t mind that I told her?”

I was an afterthought.

I guess Carly felt bad, because she started telling me everything about Naida after that, as if trying to balance the scales. Like the Mala thing.

None of us knew a damn thing about Mala before Naida. It’s some weird Scottish voodoo-like—I don’t know—religion? Cult? Stupid-mental-ritual practice? Witchcraft? Naida basically grew up on Fair Island, which is this completely forgotten island in the Outer Hebrides somewhere, and she only came to England when she was eleven for school. I always thought Naida was weird, even before Carly told me all this shit. Naida’s grandmother still lives on that rock in the sea, though, so Naida goes back every summer. I think Carly mentioned a cousin who lives a few miles away from Elmbridge—whatever. But it’s the grandmother who’s the stirrer, because Naida happened to mention to Carly after she’d written to that old witch that our “situation” was “unnatural.” Two souls in one body—the shock! The horror!