“But this is not it,” and I stepped onto the fluffy cream carpet in the small living room.

***

I sunk into a soft chair, clutching a cup of tea, and didn’t know where to start. Miss Norwood was in no hurry. She sat opposite me, looking out from under her eyelashes, as if she was looking for ten differences between me and the real Charlotte.

There was no point in beating around the bush, but it was worth starting with the main thing.

– Charlotte died. I was possessed by her body, and she is now a ghost. He flies nearby and repeats how sorry he is. ? What's the point of being sorry? I messed something up in the ritual. “I paused, wondering if it would be possible to also bluntly reveal that I’m not the only one in head-over-heels problems. Still, as an adviser, I liked Miss Norwood much more than the ghost Charlotte. – In a love spell ritual. On her and Professor Norwood.

– To Dougal?! But, Bran the Blessed! For what? After all… nothing connected them.

– You said it yourself – there, in the salon. “He is a world-class luminary, and together we light the stars.” Becoming the wife of a luminary is much more prestigious than being a simple assistant. Which they notice only when they forget to close the doors behind themselves or show up to the laboratory with their hair down. No, she was not in love with the professor. But she really wanted his attention.

– Right. Too much ambition and empty bravado,” Miss Norwood stood up and grabbed herself by the shoulders, as if she was freezing or trying to control herself not only figuratively. “She knew that such dark magic requires sacrifice.” Always! We all know this!

– Dark magic?! – probably, to say that I was amazed would be a gross understatement. – Love spell?

– Not a simple love spell. Ritual. For ordinary girlish stupidity, a potion is enough, it can be removed easily, but if Miss Blair performed a ritual… Oh yes, very dark and ancient magic.

“I would never have thought… Sorry,” I realized, “it was probably a stupid question, right?” But where I was drawn from, there is no magic at all. Only quackery and superstition. I don't understand this stuff at all.

Miss Norwood turned to me and looked very softly, with sympathy.

–Where did you get attracted to? And how did this happen? Ancient, forgotten forces walk only along the paths of spirits. They don't care about mortals until they call.

– I definitely didn’t call! But… – the living, arrogant face of the “hereditary dark witch” appeared before my eyes: heavy eyelids, upturned chin, lips, inaudible whisper… – I am a journalist. I was doing a report… just about magic. About what our scammers pass off as magic. Apparently, since magic exists in principle, a real witch could be found among those scammers? She claimed that she was hereditary and, by the way, dark… I offered to prove it to her with at least something other than empty words, in response she promised to take me to the astral plane. And… that's it. I woke up here already. With a screaming hysterical ghost in front of your nose.

– Poor girl. She probably didn’t even understand what happened. I didn't realize that this was the end. Is the ghost here with you now?

– No. I don't know when it will appear.

– But if your connection is not broken… When did this happen?

– This night. Charlotte said midnight or a little later. During the day I replaced her at the department. Because…” I froze, clasping my hands. Suddenly I realized that I had been on the verge of hysteria all evening, and now I came almost close to her.