“You’ve lost your mind completely!” he yelled at Alex. “She’s a witch!”
“Oh, come on, how can she be a witch? Look at her!” Alex replied gently, pointing to the infant sleeping peacefully in his arms.
“I’m telling you, you’ve lost your mind! She’ll grow up to be just like them! Or even worse!”
“No, she won’t! Not all of them were bad. Her mother is proof of that,” Alex said stubbornly.
“Think about your own family!”
“We’ve already discussed this. My daughter and son-in-law fully support me.”
At that time, Mr. Wallis could do nothing. Alex remained utterly deaf to all pleas to return the child to her real family.
Yet, in time, Mr. Wallis himself came to love the girl. Sabrina grew up into a beautiful, independent woman. But was she a witch? Most likely – yes. Knowing Sabrina’s family history, Mr. Wallis would have sworn on the Bible in court that the girl was a witch. However, was she evil? No. And on that point, too, Mr.
Wallis was willing to stake his own life. He was absolutely certain that sooner or later her abilities would manifest themselves. But how? That remained to be seen.
For so many years, no one from her real family had even inquired about the child’s fate. When the infant disappeared, no one even reported it to the police. All that was known was that Marie De Manshand, following the tragic death of her daughter, had gone to France to recover, and to restore the family nest – a vast, ancient castle in the Île-de-France province. And now, twenty-three years later, she was returning. And she had a weighty reason for doing so. She wanted to find her only heiress. Her granddaughter Sabrina. Specifically, she had sent a letter to him, Wallis, as a token of gratitude for the fact that the Order had not left the poor child on the street and ad given her a home. For Marie was so devastated by her daughter’s death that she would not have been able to give Sabrina the love and attention she needed. The letter also specified that if Sabrina did not return to Paris immediately, Marie would either come over herself or send someone from her entourage.
After scanning the pointed handwriting on the letter once again, Mr. Wallis sighed bitterly and buzzed for his secretary.
“Dana, please bring me a cup of white tea and connect me with Elliot Cornell.
Also, invite Mr. Murphy to join us. And as soon as possible, please,” he said to an attractive-looking young woman who had entered the office.
“Of course, sir,” Dana replied and left.
Wallis approached the window, leaning on the weathered sill, and stared into the bottomless darkness of the Thames. After standing like that for several minutes, he smiled sadly and shook his head.
“What will be, will be,” he concluded and returned to his desk.
Either I'll completely lose my mind, or…?
The disgusting “Dzzziiinnnnnnn” cut through the silence of yet another gloomy day. I sat up in bed slowly, staring blankly at the alarm clock. Six-thirty in the morning. I reluctantly pried open my left eye and glanced at Gigantor, lazily sprawled out on the neighboring pillow. The cat seemed determined to rip me in half with its crazy look. I sighed, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, and looked out the window. Nothing that could inspire even a drop of optimism. Rain, dampness, and endless, bottomless puddles…
“At least one thing to be happy about, it’s Friday,” I thought to myself and, mustering all my strength, got out of bed and shuffled to the shower.
