Methodius Buslaev. Third Horseman Of Gloom. Дмитрий ЕмецЧитать онлайн книгу.
all that. Well, that’s all of me! So: the plan of the hunchback Ligul, Nemirovich, and the other Danchenko![3] Here are the ears, the nose. Under the eyes let’s place a small shadow from lack of sleep, here we’ll drop a couple of birth marks. What else do we have? Hair? Ah, how nice, simply imitate agreeably! The chipped tooth: why did he let himself go like this? Excuse me, there’s cosmetic dentistry,” he mumbled in an undertone. “And even the future sovereign of Gloom! If he wants, he would grow a hundred teeth!”
“No need for a hundred teeth. Depressiac won’t tolerate competition,” Daph refused.
She suddenly became uncomfortable. Right in front of her was Methodius. She knew, of course, that this was just the succubus, but her heart nevertheless treacherously froze in her chest, making a strange pause after each third beat. If she, Daphne, a guard of Light, would behave this way, what could be side about poor enamoured moronoids! No wonder they bring their eide to a cursed succubus for the mere right of temporarily possessing a spectre! Even Depressiac was also a little confused and stopped hissing. As is known, it had a soft spot for Buslaev, which always irritated Daphne.
The succubus had completed the transformation and went around Daph in the new guise, showing off. “Oh, my sunshine, I love you! Let me carry your wings for a while!” he said in a voice, possibly a little more hollow than that of the real Methodius.
Feeling that he had gotten carried away with the lie, the succubus glanced shrewdly at Daph and corrected the voice. “So, excuse me, what about the wings? Will you let me carry them? And perhaps I’ll kiss you for this. And maybe I won’t kiss! I’m so changeable!”
Daph was furious. The allure vanished. Moreover, she still continued to use true sight, and through the image of Methodius, Whimper’s vile form showed from time to time. “Stop meddling in other’s business! One more bit of nonsense in this spirit and I…” she threatened.
The succubus chuckled (or, more precisely, chortled), pleased that he had irritated her. At this moment, he seriously did not hope to obtain Daph’s wings, but only mocked, following a long-standing habit. “Well, well! What will you do to me, little nasty? Set the cat on me? Banish me with the sounds of the flute?” he asked mockingly.
In contrast to agents, succubi did not much fear maglody. No, they, it goes without saying, disappeared when they were banished, but they already returned again after a couple of minutes, as if nothing had happened.
Daph pensively bit the hangnail on her thumb. “Why immediately use the flute? There are also other means…” she said and, having stepped back, whispered something.
“Whisper, whisper! Spells don’t work on me!” Whimper said laughingly.
He continued to bounce and wriggle mockingly, but was doing this less and less confidently. Uneasiness slowly appeared on his face. Then he stopped and stared at his legs. They had shortened and merged together, beginning from the waist and below to his knees. Not only had his legs changed. His face was dripping like wax. In full view, his body was rounding, becoming swollen, sprouting something thick, brown, with dark tan markings. His arms were pulling into his shoulders. His spine bent and heeled to the ground, unable to bear the weight of the long, clumsy body.
When his legs finally grew together and the feet had disappeared, the succubus could not stand and collapsed heavily onto the asphalt. At first he was frightened, but he suddenly realized that it was much more convenient on the asphalt. He folded his body, tried to crawl, and realized that he was simply excellent at it.
“What have you done to me, Light? What was that spell?” he shouted at Daph.
“What’s this got to do with a spell? Ooooh, how glad I am that you’ve become a caterpillar! Oh, how I dreamed about this! How I want you to crawl along the pipe and tumble down! Crawl and tumble! Crawl and tumble! Do this, dear! Do this for me! Oooh!” Daph said, exhaling passionately. Now she no longer whispered and was speaking loudly.
“Stop! What, are you out of your mind? I don’t want to climb anywhere!” Whimper squeaked in panic, feeling that his body had started to comply. In spite of himself, he was already crawling up the drain pipe, up to the second floor, and flopped onto the asphalt, splattering greenish stinky slime. Passers-by screwed up their faces. They still saw nothing; however, the smell was accessible even to the perception of the underworld.
“Oh, how fantastic this is! Do that again, dear! Fall from the pipe!” Daph said vindictively and, after recollecting that she was speaking in her usual voice, exhaled passionately a couple of times just in case.
“Stop! How do you know? I thought it’s a secret!” the succubus pleaded, obediently climbing along the slippery pipe.
Daph looked at him with disgust. Guards of Light had long figured out that succubi were endowed with the innate characteristic to adjust and to adapt, transforming into what their companion wished for. Gloom created them for that. Moreover, transformation materialized against the will of the succubi themselves. There was one condition: the wish must be uttered with the appropriate voice. Otherwise the succubi would not comprehend it.
“Oh, how I want you to crawl out onto the road under the wheels of a truck! Oooh! I so dream about this! This is my fantasy, dear!” Daph said, prudently holding Depressiac by the collar. If she did not do this, the cat would have slashed the vile creature long ago with its claws.
The enormous caterpillar, bending, began to crawl out onto the road. Already on the very edge it tried to be stubborn, but Daph hastened with her three passionate “oooh!”s and one hyper-passionate “OOOH!” Moreover, the hyper-passionate “OOOH!” was in reality simply a disguised yawn.
“Oh yes, yes! This is so wonderful! Crawl faster, dear! Faster! Oooh! Otherwise you’ll be late to fall under that wonderful tour bus!” Daphne said, peering into the distance.
“Stop!” Whimper began to squeal. “Stop, Light! What are you, a sadist? Out of your mind? I’m an artistic figure! I work with my face! They’ll laugh at me in Tartarus if I fall under the bus, especially in the guise of a worm! I’ll have to sign out a new body! In the meantime, they’ll sew, grow it together, and impose magic on it!”
“But what do I care? Oh, what wonderful wheels the bus has! They’re getting closer! Oooh, dear, how wonderful this is!”
“Stop now! Help! Murder!” the succubus began to squeal in complete panic.
“Do you surrender? You won’t change into Methodius anymore?” Daph asked.
“I will, nasty! I don’t take orders from you!”
“Well then, dear, you asked for it! Oooh!”
“Only no ‘oooh’! I surrender!” the miserable caterpillar howled, squinting with horror at the wheels of the bus.
Daph sighed, considered, and magnanimously waved her hand. “Light be with you! Live!” she said.
The succubus stopped squirming, dashed back to the pavement, and with the greatest possible haste assumed his initial half-male-half-female guise. “How did you know about this? Who revealed the secret to you?” he asked, looking with fear at Daph.
“I’m a guard of Light after all. We there in Eden also don’t collect empty bottles,” Daph remarked. “And now, little succubus, tell me what you need, and scram! You bore me!”
Whimper licked his lips. “Anyway, listen! A woman, like a wolf, has to go search to find it. And a succubus more so – if you don’t run about, you won’t sniff out anything! A little birdie told me that soon they’ll try to steal Methodius. Don’t ask who, don’t ask when, but it’ll happen!”
“Nonsense!” Daph said, beginning to experience unease nevertheless.
“Indeed you can believe me, my wussy. I said ‘steal’, it means stealing him from you. In everything about love, I’m a pro!”
“Well, what of it?” Daph asked defiantly. Attack is the best defence.
“What of it? You’re a guard of Light! Have you forgotten? If you love someone, your feelings should be
Vladimir Ivanovich Nemirovich-Danchenko (1858–1943) was a Russian and Soviet theatre director, playwright, producer, and co-founder of the Moscow Art Theatre.