День 3
Гильдия:Отчаянные

Флакон был тёмно-бордовый, с жирной сургучной печатью и этикеткой, на которой моей рукой, лет пятнадцать назад, было написано: «Вампирская. Пить по капле. Не пить натощак. Не пить при Роуэне». Последнюю фразу я, видимо, добавила интуитивно.
Настойка не отвечает на вопросы. Она показывает то, что обычно прячется от глаз: следы прикосновений, дыхания и намерений. Вампиры замечают такое у любого дверного косяка. Всё дело в том, что они видят мир без отражений и потому не обманываются блеском поверхностей.

— Одна капля, — сказала я вслух, чтобы взять себя в руки.

— Очень разумно, — тихо одобрил Роуэн, отступая на шаг от стола. — Я бы на вашем месте капнул на платок и понюхал.

— Ты бы на моём месте давно сидел в чулане.

Я капнула настойку на язык. Вкус был как у вишни, которую пару веков томили в погребе. Мир на мгновение стал плоским, а потом резко приобрёл глубину. Углы комнаты потемнели, и из этой темноты проступили тонкие красные нити: следы пальцев на корешке, дрожащие отпечатки вдоль переплёта, лёгкая рябь в воздухе там, где недавно что-то быстро двигалось.

Нити сложились в цепочку. Она вела от пустого места между страницами к краю стола, затем к зеркалу в прихожей и обрывалась у самой рамы.

Я подошла ближе. Следы были знакомыми, и не просто знакомыми. Узкая ладонь, чуть косо поставленный большой палец, шрам от старого ожога на мизинце.

Это были мои руки.

— Алевтина, — осторожно начал Роуэн, — позвольте напомнить, что вы часто ходите во сне.

— Я не хожу во сне.

— Тогда вы не ходили вчера ночью. Я проверял.

— Ты проверял?

— Профессиональная привычка. Я проходил мимо.

— Через запертую дверь?

— Через очень тонкую запертую дверь.

Я не стала его убивать, хотя настойка тихо предлагала мне несколько вариантов. Она вообще оказалась болтливой. Именно в этот момент я заметила первый побочный эффект, и он был неприятным.

Мне хотелось есть. Не кашу и не пирог, а нечто совсем другое. Я стояла посреди кухни, ощущала запах чужого пульса и с ужасающим интересом разглядывала шею Роуэна, где под безупречным воротничком билась тонкая жилка.

— Вы смотрите на меня как на десерт, — вежливо заметил демон.

— Сдерживаюсь.

— Не стоит. Я невкусный. В основном состою из договоров и дурных привычек.

— Это я и боялась услышать.

Я отвернулась и принялась изучать следы. Дело осложнялось тем, что настойка показывала всё подряд. Красные нити тянулись по всему дому: к чайнику, который, видимо, в последний раз касался людей ещё в прошлом веке, к дверным ручкам, к потолку, где паук однажды оставил свой автограф. Роуэн светился ярче всех. Он успел потрогать каждую мою вещь, но ни одна нить от него не вела к книжице.

— Вы теперь видите и мои следы, — грустно констатировал он. — Это невежливо.

— Ты везде. Могу я хотя бы выбрать, где тебя не видеть?

— Если дадите мне договор...

— Роуэн.

— Молчу.

Следы упрямо вели к зеркалу. Я подошла и коснулась стекла. Холодное и пустое. И тут я поняла вторую, куда более неприятную вещь.

В зеркале не было меня.

Не было ни отражения, ни теней, ни даже смутного контура. В прихожей отражался только Роуэн, да и тот выглядел слегка расплывчато. Он прижимался к стене, держа трость на отлёте.

— Это тоже побочный эффект? — спросила я как можно спокойнее.

— Нет, — сказал Роуэн неожиданно серьёзно. — Это не побочный эффект. Это улика.

Он подошёл ближе, и в его голосе исчезла вся привычная шутливость.

— Настойка не лишила вас отражения, Алевтина. Оно ушло раньше, чем вы открыли флакон. Просто теперь вы наконец это видите.

Я застыла. Красная цепочка следов у рамы обрывалась, а затем, на полу, продолжалась в другую сторону. Это были следы босых ног. Они вели не из зеркала в дом, а из дома прочь, к входной двери. Свежие, ночные, аккуратные.

— То есть, — медленно произнесла я, — страницу вырвало моё отражение.

— Оно имело полное право доступа, — вздохнул Роуэн. — Вы хранительница книжицы. А кто лучше знает хранительницу, чем её отражение? Всю жизнь повторяет ваши движения, подсматривает через плечо и запоминает каждое слово заклинаний. Весьма амбициозный личный секретарь.

— Зачем ему страница с печатью?

— Если бы я знал, — ответил демон. — Возможно, захотелось выйти на улицу в праздничный сезон без вас. Знаете, когда ты много лет подражаешь кому-то, рано или поздно хочется хоть раз сделать что-нибудь по-своему.

Из кухни тем временем донёсся деликатный звон. Чайник на плите вежливо поднял крышку.

— Если вам интересно, — сообщил он, и я с удивлением отметила, что под действием настойки отчётливо слышу каждую его интонацию, — оно прошло через калитку в половине четвёртого утра. Было в вашем платье. И очень торопилось.

— А почему ты молчал?

— Меня никто не спрашивал, — обиделся чайник. — Всех интересовали только гусеобразные существа в дымоходе.

Я медленно села на стул. В голове гудело, во рту оставался привкус вишни и вековой пыли, а по шее Роуэна, к моему стыду, всё ещё скользил мой взгляд.

— Хорошо, — сказала я. — Нужно найти себя. Пока моё отражение разгуливает по городу с страницей, которая держит границу, и в моём платье.

— Я могу помочь, — оживился Роуэн.

— За три услуги?

— За одну. Остальные две вы выберете сами.

— Ты на удивление мало просишь.

— Я начинаю вас бояться, — признался демон. — Это очень непривычно, и мне, знаете ли, хочется остаться в живых. Хотя бы повторно.

Подпись автора

4ef1c7  kujo  426

🔮 DAY 3: OKSANA, WE NEED TO TALK 🔮
DeNae’s Halloween Guild Diary

I consider myself a reasonably tolerant person.

I’ve accepted magical portals.

I’ve accepted talking furniture.

I’ve even accepted Rowan’s unhealthy obsession with glitter.

But discovering that one of my fellow guild members was secretly connected to an ancient supernatural curse?

That required coffee.

Strong coffee.

Preferably with alcohol.

We gathered in the manor’s hidden chamber while Oksana finally explained everything.

Long ago, the mansion had belonged to an ancient magical order responsible for guarding the boundary between our world and the shadow realm.

Every generation, one guardian was chosen to protect the seal.

And Oksana?

Oksana was the last surviving Keeper of the Midnight Veil.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then Tara gasped.

“YOU’RE A SECRET MAGICAL GUARDIAN?!”

Oksana nodded.

“Yes.”

“WITH ACTUAL POWERS?!”

“Yes.”

“AND YOU NEVER TOLD US?!”

“I was trying to protect everyone.”

I rubbed my temples.

“Tara, perhaps we could give her a moment before requesting an autograph.”

Oksana explained that the silver key was part of an ancient locking spell.

The manor hadn’t invited us to celebrate Halloween.

It had summoned us because the seal was breaking.

And if it failed completely, the creatures trapped beyond the Midnight Veil would be free.

I looked at Rowan.

“Did you know about this?”

He hesitated.

Which was answer enough.

“ROWAN.”

“Well, technically, I may have purchased certain commercial rights to the manor’s haunting activities.”

Lala blinked.

“You MONETIZED an ancient curse?”

Rowan straightened his jacket.

“Entrepreneurship is a gift.”

“You’re about to receive another gift,” I informed him. “A very firm kick.”

John interrupted before I could demonstrate.

He had examined the chamber’s ancient mechanism and discovered that the seal could be restored by returning three enchanted objects to their proper places.

Julie found the first inscription.

MAD spotted a hidden symbol reflected in a shaft of moonlight.

Lala decoded the second warning, largely by insulting the writer’s grammar.

And Tara?

Tara had found the final object.

A glowing crystal skull.

Naturally, she was holding it.

“Tara,” I said carefully, “put that down.”

“But DeNae—”

“DOWN.”

The skull began laughing.

Purple lightning shot across the ceiling.

The floor trembled.

Then an enormous shadow rose behind us.

I turned slowly.

A monstrous figure with burning eyes towered over the chamber.

Tara whispered, “Wow.”

Lala whispered something considerably less polite.

John moved protectively in front of the group.

Oksana raised her hands, and brilliant red-gold magic filled the chamber.

The creature recoiled.

But Oksana staggered.

The power was too much for one Keeper.

“She can’t do it alone!” Julie shouted.

And that was when I understood.

The manor hadn’t simply summoned Oksana.

It had summoned all of us.

I stepped beside her.

“Tell me what you need.”

Oksana looked at me.

“Everyone must stand together. The magic follows trust.”

I turned toward Tara.

My beautiful, reckless, infuriating little sister.

She smiled.

“See? I told you we were meant to come!”

I sighed.

“Tara, if we survive this, I’m charging you for emotional damages.”

Then I took her hand.

And the chamber erupted in light.

End of Day 3 — Discovered secret guardian. Threatened demon. Accidentally became part of ancient magical prophecy. Need vacation.

Отредактировано DeNae (2026-10-27 02:23:23)

Подпись автора

DeNae 🇺🇸 67b526

Guild: Double D’s

Guild Quest. Day 3. Witch's Book - Evil Wakes Up
Guild:   Double D’s

🧪 DAY THREE — CLUES BETTER NOT TO SEE
📍 The Witch's Book - Alevtina's Cottage
🔮 FOUND: Gypsies Ointment — Magical Elixirs Collection

By Thursday morning, Alevtina had reached a conclusion: the greatest threat to civilization was not the premature arrival of evil spirits, rebellious weather, or even a festive gobbler with an appetite for furniture. It was Rowan. During the previous forty-eight hours, the demon had offered her magical catastrophe insurance, extended warranty on her cauldron, a subscription to weekly supernatural warnings, and a premium membership in something called the Infernal Preferred Customer Club. "You receive a complimentary pen," he explained. "Does it write in blood?" Alevtina asked. "Only when absolutely necessary." She was considering testing whether his elegant black suit was fireproof when Rowan made an unfortunate remark. Examineing the Witch's Book, he observed, "Extraordinary workmanship. Whoever removed that page left no trace of foreign magic." Alevtina froze. "Foreign magic?" "Quite." "Which means the thief had permission." Rowan's smile faltered. "I really must learn when to stop talking."

The Guild arrived to find Alevtina surrounded by bottles, jars, mysterious powders, and several objects that appeared to be watching her. Tara immediately announced, "WE HAVE A SUSPECT!" and pointed dramatically at Rowan. "Your evidence?" Julie asked. "He's a demon, he sells insurance, and he smiles too much!" "A compelling case," LaLa agreed. "Especially the insurance." DeNae unpacked breakfast and placed it beyond the reach of anything with more than one, two or more tails. "Before we accuse anyone of grand theft Halloween, perhaps we should investigate." John examined the torn binding through a magnifying glass. "No damage to the protective threads. Whoever did this knew exactly how to bypass the security." Oksana studied the ancient symbols surrounding the missing page. "Or the book recognized the thief as someone authorized to touch it." Mad admired a collection of jewel-colored elixirs glowing in the morning sunlight. "These bottles are gorgeous! The lighting is spectacular. Although that green one seems to be looking back at me." Alevtina snatched the green bottle away. "Don't flirt with the potion. It gets attached."

After consulting the Magical Elixirs collection, Alevtina selected a small amber jar labeled GYPSIES OINTMENT — REVEALS THE PATH OF HIDDEN HANDS. SIDE EFFECTS MAY INCLUDE UNWANTED HONESTY, INVOLUNTARY MEMORIES, AND TEMPORARY VISIBILITY OF THINGS BEST LEFT UNSEEN. The ointment was a ancient tracing preparation, capable of revealing magical fingerprints left on objects even after ordinary spells had faded. Unfortunately, its effects were notoriously unpredictable. "How unpredictable?" John asked. "Last time I used it, my broom confessed to having an affair with the vacuum cleaner," Alevtina replied. Tara looked delighted. "MAGICAL FORENSICS!" Julie carefully applied a tiny amount to the book's spine while Oksana spoke the activating words. A shimmering trail of golden fingerprints appeared on the binding. They rose into the air, crossed the kitchen, circled the table, and formed the unmistakable outline of a slender hand removing page 248. The Guild leaned forward. The hand belonged to someone wearing a distinctive silver ring bearing the symbol of the Holiday Border. Everyone turned towards Rowan, who was wearing exactly such a ring.

"Well, well, well," LaLa purred. "Our charming insurance salesman seems to have been caught with his fingers in the cookie jar." Rowan examined his ring with exaggerated surprise. "How terribly embarrassing. I assure you, there is a perfectly reasonable explanation." "Wonderful," DeNae replied. "We're listening." But before Rowan could speak, the ointment's side effect activated. Every object in the kitchen suddenly began to reach its most closely guarded secrets. The teapot announced that Alevtina had been watering down her expensive imported tea. The grandfather's clock confessed that it deliberately ran seven minutes fast because it enjoyed making people hurry. Tara's journal began reading its own entries aloud. "DAY ONE: POSSIBLE CONSPIRACY INVOLVING DEMONS, CLOUDS, AND THE CHICKEN INDUSTRY!" Julie raised an eyebrow. "The chicken industry?" Tara lunged for the journal. "THAT WAS A PRIVATE THEORY!" Mad's handbag announced that it contained emergency chocolate, two miniature bottles of gin, and a photograph of a particularly handsome Italian waiter. "That," Mad declared, "is privileged information!" John's wristwatch calmly informed everyone that he had checked the time fourteen times since breakfast. "Professional habit," he replied. "And at least my watch knows when to stop talking."

Unfortunately, the ointment had an even more troublesome effect. It revealed not only the thief's magical fingerprints but also the emotions surrounding the theft. The kitchen darkened. A ghostly image of the room appeared before them, showing events from the previous Monday night. Rowan stood beside the Witch's Book, but he was not alone. Alevtina herself appeared in the vision, standing opposite him with a solemn expression. The ghostly witch opened the book, touched page 248, and whispered something. The page rose from the binding, folded itself into a silver butterfly, and flew into Rowan's outstretched hand. Then Alevtina raised her wand and erased the memory of the meeting from her own mind. The vision vanished. For several seconds, nobody spoke. Then Tara whispered, "Okay. THAT was not in my conspiracy journal." Alevtina stared at her own hands. "I stole my own page?" "Technically," Rowan replied carefully, "you authorized its removal." "And you helped!" "I prefer the term facilitated." LaLa folded her arms. "Of course you do. 'Accomplice' looks terrible on a business card."

Oksana examined the remaining traces of the vision. "Alevtina, you erased your memory deliberately. There must have been a reason." Julie nodded. "And Rowan hasn't destroyed the page. He's protecting it." John studied the demon. "You knew the theft would weaken the border. You also knew we'd eventually investigate." Rowan's expression grew unusually serious. "Some agreements cannot be changed by those who remember making them. The old Halloween pact contains safeguards against alteration. Alevtina discovered a loophole, but she needed someone outside the witches' council to hold the page until the proper moment." "You?" Mad asked. "A demon with an excellent reputation for discretion," Rowan replied. "And a terrible reputation for salesmanship," DeNae added. "Both entirely deserved." Alevtina suddenly remembered something from the vision: the words she had whispered before removing the page. Let the future judge what the past refuses to change. She looked towards Rowan. "What was I trying to change?" The demon lowered his eyes. "That is the one question I was forbidden to answer until the final day."

The Guild spent the afternoon reversing the ointment's effects, which proved to be considerably more difficult than applying it. Tara's journal continued to announcing conspiracy theories, the kitchen chairs argued about who had the most important job, and Rowan's cane revealed that it wasn't actually necessary for walking but had been purchased because Rowan thought it made him look distinguished. "HA!" LaLa exclaimed. "Even your furniture thinks you're pretentious!" Eventually, Oksana and Julie discovered that a drop of ordinary honey neutralized the ointment. DeNae administered the antidote while Mad distracted the more talkative objects with compliments about their appearance. John helped Alevtina restore the kitchen's protective wards. When the final object fell silent, Rowan approached the witch. "Tomorrow is the last day before Halloween," he said quietly. "And the Holiday Border cannot remain undecided." Alevtina looked at the missing page. "Then tomorrow we decide what happens to it."

That night, the Guild gathered next to the fireplace, where the repaired mantelpiece still smelled faintly of chocolate. Alevtina finally understood that the theft had not an act of malice. She herself had it arranged, trusting Rowan to preserve a secret even she could no longer remember. But why would a witch deliberately weaken the very border she was sworn to protect?

As everyone prepared for bed, the Witch's Book suddenly opened by itself.

Across the empty space where page 248 belonged, glowing letters appeared:

THE OLD AGREEMENT PROTECTS THE BORDER.

THE NEW AGREEMENT MUST PROTECT BOTH SIDES.

Then the letters faded.

From the shadows, Rowan whispered, "At last. She's beginning to remember."

🎃 TO BE CONTINUED — DAY FOUR: THE DEAL THAT NEVER WAS!

🧪 DAY 3 — THE FURNITURE TAKES THE STAND
Found item: Nymph’s Extract
Guild: Double D’s Guild
The first drop of Nymph’s Extract landed on the table.
“It was the ribbon,” the table said.
The second landed on my chair.
“She leans back.”
I stood.
“Poorly,” it added.
Alevtina had intended to reveal memories of the missing page. Instead, every object touched by the spreading pink vapor acquired the ability to testify.
The rug accused Rowan of grinding soot into its fringe.
His cane declined to comment.
Tara’s journal complained about spelling.
“Traitor,” she whispered.
We opened the windows before the crockery could organize.
Julie kept the cats outside. Mad fanned vapor away from the shelves. John held a protesting window open while DeNae secured the bottle.
Oksana questioned the book.
“Who removed the page?”
“A trusted custodian.”
“Did they walk here?”
“No.”
I examined the ribbon bookmark.
Alevtina tugged it.
The ribbon tugged back.
“The house,” I said.
The walls went still.
“I appointed its protective spirit custodian of the library,” Alevtina admitted.
“So it has access.”
A floorboard lifted beneath my foot.
“Yes,” said the house.
“Where is the page?”
“Delivered.”
A narrow brass slot appeared in the wall. Its flap bore an old mark matching the one burned into Rowan’s envelope.
He stopped smiling.
“To whom?” Alevtina asked.
“Someone who offered relief from my annual obligations.”
“You sent our agreement to a stranger?”
“I have hosted three hundred and twelve Halloweens,” the house said. “Last year something nested in my plumbing.”
A pause.
“It is still there.”
From the upstairs bathroom came a small, indignant chirp.

Отредактировано Lala a3d26b (2026-10-27 07:08:05)

Подпись автора

Lala a3d26b

Double D’s Guild

День 3
Гильдия Ёжик в тумане

Я капнула цыганский бальзам на пустое место в магической книжице. По столу пробежали золотые искры, и в воздухе возник образ похитителя: высокий человек в серебряной маске, державший в руках мою пропавшую страницу. На его пальце сверкало кольцо с гербом Совета магов.
— Вот так сюрприз! — пробормотала я. — Воруют уже не только кошельки, но и магические документы.

Но бальзам обладал неожиданным побочным эффектом: он заставлял всех вокруг говорить стихами! Роуэн попытался сообщить, что знает тайный вход в хранилище Совета, но вместо этого выдал:

— За дверью старой, у стены кривой, лежит проход секретный, пыльный и сырой!

Я схватила плащ и потащила его за собой. По дороге пришлось выслушать признания кота в любви к селёдке, жалобы чайника на одиночество и подробный рэп от уличного фонаря.

Когда мы добрались до хранилища, я нашла серебряный след и поняла: похититель собирался использовать страницу в ночь Хэллоуина, чтобы открыть древний портал.

— Ну что, Роуэн, готов к приключениям? — спросила я.

— Готов, хозяйка, хоть путь наш опасен и крут! Но можно сначала найти мне нормальный костюм?

Я вздохнула. Расследование обещало быть долгим. Особенно если даже злодеев придётся ловить в рифму.

Подпись автора

48557а