Ловушка для Мыслеформы. A Trap for a Thought-Form. Премия им. М. Булгакова / M. Bulgakov Award (Билингва: Rus/Eng)

«Well…» the Witch gave up, «I should confess! Yes, I graduated from the School of Magicians!»

«Did you practice the transmigration of souls, as in your story?»

«No!» she was embarrassed.

«Is it true that it is easier to settle spirits in the intoxicated people?»

«Does the Season of Sand exist only for Evil Spirits?»

«Have you ever been to the Other World?»

I sighed, remembering Ray, and closed my eyes. Then I opened them again… And…

«No! That can’t be true!!!»

Instantly forgetting about the sharing of spirits and the exchange of souls, I stared at a painfully familiar man: right in front of me, at the cafe counter, to the left of the Guard, appeared… Roman.

Everything that happened next seemed like a dream. I remembered only I announced the break, and the guests of the party pounced first on the writer, who had obviously managed to bewitch them getting the opportunity not to gift, but to sell «The Devil’s Trill» with a personal autograph, and then on the Cat, dozing on the chair…

They all remained in some other dimension.

Across from me there was a man who reminded me of Ray, but I was afraid to approach him, as if he might easily disappear, just as Ray had gone once, disappearing in the Other Reality.

«Are all the writers of the Union in league with the Devil?» the Guardian suddenly snapped me out of my stupor.

«An unaffordable luxury!» I said in response for some reason, while I kept looking at Roman, who kept looking at me from the back of the hall.

«When do you plan to…» the Guardian didn’t finish the question.

«As soon as possible!» I cut him off with a look and forced myself to go up to Roman.

He smiled. There was something strange about his smile. Already known to me, but quite probably unknown to him.

And so we found ourselves across from each other at a tiny table of the coffee space nearby the bookcase, which contained also my «Book of Black and White Magic».

In the reigning uproar of the break, there was suddenly a deafening silence. For two of us.

We fell out of context, scanning each other with eyes.