1

New home

There is a sea of ​​trees around. They dived into this sea and sailed for an eternity on their iron chariot in anticipation that one day the long-awaited shore would loom on the horizon. Sometimes an island of light could be seen in the distance, to which they quickly approached. But all that was visible to the eye was another meadow stretching for tens of kilometers, flooded with sunlight. For a brief moment, they were overcome by warmth, and then it dissolved, as soon as they again drowned in the shadows under the crowns of a palisade of centuries-old pines and spruces.

- What fresh air here! — Kayla said enthusiastically, enjoying the breeze coming from the half-open window. She gracefully tucked a strand of resin that had escaped from her hair behind her ear and turned to her daughter, who was sitting in the back seat. Her face lit up with a smile: “Lia, isn’t this a wonderful place?”

- It couldn’t be more wonderful. It’s reminiscent of a hackneyed opening to a horror film: there’s wilderness all around, and we, like banal stupid heroes, are going to a forgotten town where some cannibals live. And this is even in the best case.

- What kind of a child... watches all sorts of horror films, and then scares his mother.

“As if you’re so easily scared,” Marcus chuckled wearily.

Leah turned her head to the window and began to indifferently watch the thick and bare tree trunks flashing before her eyes. Her body and mind were exhausted from the feeling when you want to sleep, but you can’t take a nap for even five minutes: you lower your eyelids, but your eyes still continue to notice rare flashes of light through your thin skin.

Waking up at two in the morning to get to the airport, then enjoying a five-hour flight, waiting for dad to rent a car, and now another six hours of continuous driving - what could be better? But, fortunately, their trip was coming to an end, judging by the forest that suddenly ended.

The first houses appeared: nice, as if newly rebuilt cottages. Around some, the owners erected a symbolic fence - no higher than a meter, serving solely to keep wild animals away. Some had a decorative pond dug, others had a flower bed. Small areas near the house did not provide much scope for imagination, so the main tricks were limited to plant varieties that were exotic in these parts.

“We were very lucky to meet Dr. Stern,” Kayla spoke again in a sing-song voice. “It’s extremely rare to meet such a caring person.” Not only did he help with the move, but he also provided a huge discount on his father’s house. There are bright people.

- Or he profitably sold off a shack that he couldn’t sell for a long time.

- Leah! — her thin eyebrows shot up indignantly, and her gray-green eyes found her daughter’s imperturbable face in the rearview mirror. “Turn up your sarcasm, honey.” Sometimes you need to be grateful to someone and preferably without evil grins.

- Kayla, sometimes you are too optimistic too. Of course, I don’t think that he “shared our shack,” Marcus deftly parked the car in one movement and turned the key in the ignition, “but I don’t think that he’s such a holy man. I would call it a win-win deal.

“You’re always on her side,” Kayla muttered, opened the door and left the car.

Leah followed.

Their new house looked like a miniature castle: on the right side, the rounded corner of an octagonal tower smoothly grew into the building, and another one, short and round, rose from the multi-gable roof. The wall cladding had clearly been recently updated, but the same could not be said about the faded, sometimes cracked tiles and ancient, still wooden window frames.

Against the backdrop of a sky overcast with leaden clouds, the building looked like a house from a horror film, and all that was missing to completely immerse oneself in the mystical atmosphere was the mournful whistle of the wind.

“Wow, it’s a Victorian-style house,” Leah said thoughtfully.

“Would you like to live there, princess?” — Marcus shook his head towards the lonely tower towering above the roof with a sharp dome, smoothly turning into a decorative metal spire.

“I’m more suited to the role of an old evil witch,” she waved it off with a malicious smile, “hence the basement and potion cauldron are mine.”

The door of the neighboring house swung open with a loud bang, and a middle-aged woman appeared on the unglazed summer veranda. At first glance, she looked like a businesswoman, dressed in a formal business suit. But as she approached, more and more details refuted the initial impression: the pencil skirt turned out to be too fitted, stretching the elastic fabric over the smallest curves of her plump legs, and from under the jacket, which was buttoned up with one button, nothing peeked out except her underwear. Despite her age, and she was clearly approaching fifty, she did not hesitate to look vulgar, and her hoarse, low voice from the ton of cigarettes she smoked only emphasized this.

- Good evening. “I’m your only adequate neighbor—Martisha Loksen,” she stopped just a meter from Marcus and smiled at him carnivorously. Then she casually nodded her head at the neighboring house and added, not without a hint of disgust: “There lives an old man who has fallen into deep insanity.” He now has a new round of paranoia because of his precious cat, which has never seen the streets - he is sure that she was kidnapped and is now being tortured in some basement... A crazy senile... And the houses on the opposite street: the last ones are empty, and that , which is exactly the opposite of yours...

She was interrupted by a rough male voice:

—Are you treating neighbors who didn’t have time to move in again, Martisha?

Leah turned her interested gaze to the stranger, casually approaching them from the side of the road. The Association flew in from where it was not expected at all. The man inexplicably strongly resembled one brutal character from a well-worn indie horror game: Hubie, a massive woodcutter who, in his free time from chopping wood, was engaged in tracking down victims and sophisticated murders. The whole point of the computer quest was to avoid the fate of being eaten by it.

“Keyla Lagvuri,” Kayla belatedly responded, turning to Loksen, and then looked at the man who stopped next to them and, pointing her hand towards the family, added: “And this one is my husband, Marcus, and my daughter, Annalia.”

“Hugo Bjork,” the big man extended his massive palm to Marcus, who looked like a very young boy compared to him, for a handshake. He already seemed too young to Leah to be her father, and when such a bright contrast was before her eyes: bearded and short-haired, she could not resist comparing them.

“When will someone teach you the rules of good manners, you bastard,” Marticia spat through her teeth, without looking at Hugo. She took a thin pack of Marlboro from her jacket pocket and in one nervous movement shook out the cigarette filter, which she immediately covered with bright red lips.

Marcus smiled awkwardly and allowed his long, thin fingers to be squeezed in his calloused palm, after which he spoke to Björk:

“It must be great to live in a small town—everyone knows each other.” We moved here straight from the center of a noisy metropolis. We decided, so to speak, to radically change our lifestyle. And it’s somehow a little unusual that people are so sociable and friendly.

- About the small town - you offend. We have almost forty thousand people! This is a very impressive figure for Ireland. You moved from Titanium Valley, right? Accent. He will betray you for a long time. And the rest is an acquired taste - you quickly get used to good things.

Out of the corner of her eye, Leah noticed movement from the side: a guy about her age was approaching along the sidewalk from their side. He quickly moved his feet in his sloppy jeans, as if he could barely restrain himself from starting to run. From under the hood of a gray sweatshirt, brown strands of hair stuck out, slightly curving around the thick fabric. His hands were hidden in a protruding kangaroo pocket.

Before reaching their company, the guy turned towards Martisha’s house and, already climbing the steps, suddenly stopped, turned his head and looked carefully at Leah. From a distance it seemed that instead of his eyes there was a gaping emptiness - this was alarming and forced him to peer into it more and more.

“Leah,” Kayla suddenly called, scaring the hell out of her. My heart began to beat wildly in my chest, and the stunned and frightened gaze directed at my mother could be interpreted ambiguously. - Everything is fine?

- Yes, I was just thinking.

“If you want, you can go look around the house and choose a room for yourself,” she handed her a bunch of three identical keys. “In an hour and a half, a truck with our things should arrive, so think carefully so that you don’t have to send the movers twice.”

Nodding, Leah took the bundle and moved towards the cottage, glancing over the empty veranda of the neighboring house.

“Maybe it was my imagination?”

She stopped when she reached the base of the miniature staircase. Her attention was captured by the ornate design carved into the thin pillars supporting the porch roof and the worn railings.

The cottage not only appeared from the outside in a gothic-beautiful light, but also the small details certainly delighted Leah: she always breathed unevenly towards everything gloomy, with a tangible touch of mysticism. Hundreds of horror films watched, bony and bloody paraphernalia and complete indifference to death clearly emphasized her preferences. And they forced the mother over and over again to lament the thought of where she had stumbled in raising her daughter.

The wooden steps creaked quietly, which is why Leah couldn’t hold back a satisfied chuckle - now she has her own creaky staircase at her disposal, and not that stone likeness. In the old multi-story building, everything was perfect: polished glass doors, washed floors to a shine. And luxurious cargo and passenger elevators, freeing residents from the need to bother themselves with exhausting walks.

A small hallway without any frills in the interior greeted Leah with ordinary beige walls and a wooden floor. There was no furniture left, or even a hint of it, from the previous owners, as if this house had never been inhabited. Her gaze slid along the wall, looking for marks and traces of nails: maybe a picture or a shelf had once hung here, but she found no evidence of this.