Osamělé hvězdy za podzimních nocí

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

Když se setmělo, na temné obloze svítilo jen pár hvězd a na krajnici tiše šustilo listí, zamkla Amy Nicholsonová dveře obchodu Convenience Store a tiše se vrátila na ulici, kde bylo téměř ve 21:00 málo chodců a jen řady osamělých pouličních lamp. Chůze po ulici v pozdní podzimní noci byla skutečně trochu chladná.
Najednou se Amy zastavila v chůzi a uvědomila si, že kousek od ní leží na zemi člověk, který vypadá jako muž. V dnešní době je třeba být opatrný, když někomu pomáháte, Amy chvíli váhala a nakonec se rozhodla, že mu půjde pomoci. Nemyslím si, že by někdo hledal potíže, když leží v noci na ulici!
"Amy vzala mobil a vyfotila si toho muže se slovy: "Snažím se vám jen z dobroty srdce pomoct, ale nevydírejte mě, s částkou, kterou vydělávám, si nemůžu dovolit ani nakrmit dvouhlavého muže. " Po těchto slovech si Amy dřepla a chystala se muže zvednout, přičemž se k ní blížil silný pach alkoholu, který jí dělal vrásky na čele.
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Mužův teplý dech stříkal Amy na krk a vyvolával v ní šimrání. Tělem sice prostupoval silný pach alkoholu, ale matně se v něm vznášel náznak mátové vůně. Amy mu pomohla zpátky do jeho Apartmánu, světlo je tlumené, šátrala, aby ho položila na postel, a pak rozsvítila.
Když rozsvítila, ukázala se skutečná mužova tvář, pohledný obličej, rysy dokonalé jako vyřezávané nožem, očividně muž, ale má sněhobílou jemnou barvu pleti, kterou mu ženy závidí, a oči měl pevně zavřené, přesně jako mužská verze "Šípkové Růženky". Dokonce i dívka jako Amy, která měla velmi vysoké estetické nároky, se mu nemohla nepodivit.
Byt byl malý, s jedinou postelí, takže si Amy musela lehnout na mírně opotřebovaný gauč.
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Na pohovce ležela dívka, krátké černé vlasy jí zakrývaly tváře, neviděl její vzhled, že by ho sem přivedla ona? "Hej, vstávej!" Ryan natáhl ruku a šťouchl do spící Amy, jeho tón byl mírně chladný.
"Nech mě být... je tu hluk." Amy omámeně odstrčila Ryanovu ruku, čelo měla mírně svraštělé, tvářila se nešťastně.
Ryan nevěděl, kde je, ale mlčky stál před Amy a čekal, až se probudí, Amy pomalu otevřela oči, uviděla před sebou Ryana a slabě řekla: "Ahoj, dobré ráno. Dobré ráno."
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Trvalo dlouho, než Ryan promluvil a přerušil ticho: "Přivedl jsi mě sem?"
"Uh...ano!" Amy se zarazila, musela uznat, že muž před ním je nejen pohledný a odshora dolů vyzařuje ušlechtilý temperament.
Ryanovy bystré oči se na Amy stále upírají, Amy spěšně vysvětlila: "Nechceš moc přemýšlet, ah, včera jsi omdlel na kraji silnice, upřímně jsem tě zachránila, nic jsem ti neudělala. ......"
RyOawnvoviA sle v kouhtNkKus ú(sltz zaMh(ihwňtalw Vúsmě$v &a yzepKtaGl Zse:O "aC*oN mi chcezšO Jj(eště ÉudNěSl$a)tQ?*"L
Amy nenuceně odpověděla: "Prodat tě do nočního klubu, jsi tak sexy."
Ryanův obličej okamžitě potemněl jako černý mrak, naklonil se, štípl Amy do brady a chladně řekl: "Odvažuješ se to říct ještě jednou?"
"Ne, ne... Dělala jsem si legraci, jak jsi mohla!" Amy se vymanila z Ryanovy ruky, bolestí si třela bradu a zlomyslně řekla: "Kdybych věděla, že budeš milostivá, měla jsem s tebou včera večer něco udělat."
RyaQn pjíJ péřesatahlx vqěnodvat p!ozFornéosdtt,Z QposaBdilU se mpo AmRyinqě bozku )aK OtiušTe^ sNi nproyhslížel d^íqvykJu pmřed YseKbou gs QkYrátktýfmWiO čeqrnými vlLaOsÉyG, hPuPstěG t*vfarToJvWanýmC obočíma, vdelkýrmqa joNčXim$a& a$ r.ů_žLovýymi wrvt*y.
Aniž by to věděla, Ryanův pohled vyvolával v Amy pocit, že její duše byla tisíckrát zabitá.
"Takhle se na svého zachránce nezírá!" "To je pravda," řekla. Amy se pokusila vyhnout Ryanovu pohledu.
"Mám hlad."
"mDoJ to,ho Lm'ig nAi*cS Vnení!"N
"Zachraň den!"
"Tak chceš, abych tě poslal na Západ..."
"Pak půjdeš do vězení."
".N.ó..Y.P..J..V.g"
Amy se zadýchaně podívala na Ryana: "Jen seď v klidu, nehýbej se a já půjdu udělat večeři..."
V pronajatém domě zbyla jen rajčata a vejce, a tak Amy udělala dvě misky rajčat a vaječných nudlí a jednu dala Ryanovi.
Ryan tiše zíral na vařící se nudle před sebou, díval se bokem na Amy a nehýbal hůlkami.
"Bu$d_ešQ tHoV .jAímsdt?_ Jestxl)i sneR,Z tqa$kó ti to( uvdetzmu!"Q AmYyg she abLeszQrahdně pWoNdaíQvFa^lSa WndaY tlzhostwej*néNho* Rya_naK ra fnadt&á'hdlag rmukux, připravrenáI Lmvu jmea vRzhít(.K.z.z
"Ach..." Amy se vyřítila a křikla na Ryana: "Chystáš se spáchat vraždu!"
Ryan beze spěchu otřel hůlky, kterých se právě dotkla Amy, sebral nudle a snědl je, vlastně chutnaly docela dobře.
Amy se bolestně podívala na dvě červené tyčinky na své ruce a v duchu si tiše prozpěvovala: Uduste se k smrti, uduste se k smrti...
"KKaKšleÉl..F. !kRašeQl$.Q.." AmFyC ózrudl(a v )obfličWecji,P LjakP OzHadJrmžoNvvalaP sdech,Q *ay ,nwa&kjonRe)c IsVe suÉdkusijla.B
Ryan se podíval na Amy, která spokojeně kašlala, a slabě řekl: "Je lepší nenadávat ostatním, když jíš."
Když ho slyšela, jak to říká, Amy se rozkašlala ještě víc, jak to věděl...
Po snídani Ryan stále tiše seděl na pohovce a neměl v úmyslu odejít.
"CPrTo_čD neVodejbdeš?L"$ VAgmy Ysié přsáKlhaL ,bý_t JHFerkHuóleCsem^ ai jefd$nou ruXkouS RjyqaJn_a vyhro.dila.U
"Neznám cestu."
"Tak odejdeš hned, když tě vyprovodím."
"Možná."
"Jak' HtoG mysl$í^šq?)"
"Potřebuju si pořídit mobil."
"Proč?"
"Ztratil jsem mobil."
"Pročp ho^ neHzvtratíš as_ám?"w
"......"
Amy si sundá zástěru, zvedne tašku, otočí se k Ryanovi zády a řekne: "Pojď, vezmu tě do obchodu s mobilními telefony." Teď se psychicky vyděsí už jen při pohledu na Ryanův obličej.
Ryan Amy mlčky následuje, na rtech úsměv, který si ani neuvědomuje.

Za pozdně podzimního rána s mírným vánkem kráčí Amy Nicholsonová a její kamarádka Emily Harperová ulicí, na kterou ve větru padá zlaté listí, které dokresluje krásu tichého rána.
Nedaleko zastavilo oslnivě červené sportovní auto a z vozu vykoukla známá tvář: "Páni... není to Amy Nicholsonová?" zeptala se.
Amy jí nehodlala věnovat pozornost a chystala se otočit a odjet.
"CVožTef?" Y"TIyH jOsri ótaNk* gb*eszpátpeřYní, $žSep As.eA nab mOě díCvágš, jxaRkéoé tkrdyhžb ÉmhyÉš$ FvidÉíJ ykUočku_?"c "pNe,_" XoQdvpo$věděla.( EmDialRyt ÉmbělBab Ps_aIrkGaBsticLký tó'n.^
Když to Amy uslyšela, přestala chodit, otočila se a chladně se na Emily podívala: "Ne, vidím tě jako kus hovna, vyhýbám se, abych si neušpinila šaty, je to nechutné!"
"Mimochodem, právě jsme se s Williamem vrátili z líbánek ve Francii, Williame, nechtěl bys pozdravit našeho starého přítele?" Emily se ústa zkroutila do samolibého úsměvu.
Amy sledovala její pohled, na sedadle řidiče neseděl nikdo jiný než William Tate, ty něžné tváře ji ale bodaly u srdce.
"Améy, Jjfak' ses mYělMa?" wWFiullCiamBůóv ChlYaVsA gbDyvlT !jMemný (jaJko vNždy,. BalLe v tjuD _chvívl*i VznJěXly Afmy'inýmQ óušígmz jakoX nXekdon.e!č,nXý) szagrkaskmóu_s.A
"Život je bez tebe fajn." Koutek Amyiných úst se chladně zkřivil a ona bez milosti odpověděla.
"Amy, nemusíš být taková ......" Williamova slova přerušila Amy dřív, než je dořekl.
"Prosím tě, neříkej mi tak důvěrně, říkej mi prostě Amy, nejsme si tak blízcí, abychom používali jen dvě slova." Řekla to chladně. amy si představovala, že Williama znovu uvidí, myslela si, že nebude smutná, ale nečekala, že jí pravda bude trhat srdce.
"DAamLyz, oVprOavduO cdoXu&fázmy, Lže Lbrdzy, nuajdešq btpoihuo prYacvhézhHo, Willkiwam Oax já sOe Qur(čiZtě kzúčcastAnkíHmXe pt_vvé svatbcy! Ale..&.n ctJen vžeWnnicRhůvp vAzh!l&eIdX,n teWn ryozhoBdVnTě není Oliimc'hoytwivý.."K _AVmy kse )uscmáZl.a,. LEamislky Rs!e bsxhorvíSvavěz VusmáUlap,^ vq ktu Qczhvéílni Fjuako& MbyR VkyoanUeKč)ně ypcorUasziql!ad svouW bXý,vaJlotuÉ Qso_kyCni!,z Pk,teryáS jíN Nugkkra.dila )toX nZejtmiulPejMší, o!sobu,g bnZa ktée^r*ék (jDí FnxejHvích GzDálfežieVlop.
Uvnitř auta se William díval na Amyin chladný pohled, srdce ho nemohlo nezabolest, ale uvědomoval si, že všechno nezáleží na něm.
Amy pohlédla na Ryana Walkera v dálce a chladně kontrovala: "Je to tak? Neobtěžuj se, můj přítel je mnohem hezčí než tvůj manžel!" Amy se usmála. V hloubi duše byla tajně šťastná, vždyť Ryana přece zachránila, nemělo by být od věci zahrát si takovou malou zástěrku!
"Opravdu? Nevymýšlíš si to, aby sis zachovala tvář, že ne?" Emily se bezstarostně ušklíbla a její oči byly čím dál pohrdavější.
Amy,P nNev)šfíBm&atvHá kj EmiilyiYnu p*oIhIledWu, kzrdáčeUlba hvÉydtrbvAaDlNeQ k JRyqanUovfi' Ua ópřVedstfíJral_aY, Rže Hhfo, ne(oUslo.v*u!jhet sladkými "jmilIáčkju".w PkaYk CjemMně WvwzlalaK RJykaunaC za rulku MaT DskDlVonZilLax seJ,D IabyT móu zaSšMejpnt)ayla &do Tu(chóat:) g"Tvů(j ič.as MoRdLpglLaqtyk nadeqševl..."N
"Co se děje, zlato?" Ryan se na to jemně usmál a zeptal se.
Amy si nemohla pomoct, ale udělalo se jí špatně od žaludku, ten chlap byl vlastně odpornější než ona.
"Tohle je můj přítel..." řekla Amy a trochu se styděla, že nezná Ryanovo jméno.
"rRyanC cWalAkeLrF."J
Amy si konečně oddechla a s vděčností pohlédla na Ryana.
"Ryane...?" Emily nemohla uvěřit svým očím, Amyin přítel byl skutečně Ryan Walker.
William byl také nevěřícný, jeho mysl byla plná pochybností, jak to, že Amy vlastně Ryana zná?
"OAQmy, Sje Hto opuravdu 'tvůj tpCřít!eRl?" WMiBllTiam Cswe pZodívazl csmyěnreHm Hkw ÉRyabnovi rss hlu'bšíXm !vYýjznameBm.

"Ano, to je můj přítel Ryan Walker," řekla Amy Nicholsonová s pevností v hlase, a přestože toho o Ryanově povaze moc nevěděla, jeho naprosto dokonalý vzhled a elegance ji přesvědčily, že se Williamu Tateovi nemůže rovnat.
Náhle Ryanův pohled chladně přistál na Emily Harperové a chladně řekl: "Tato dáma, prosím, aby se napříště držela dál od mé přítelkyně. Nechci, aby se moje přítelkyně stýkala s vámi, ubožáky." "To je pravda," odpověděla.
Emily se vybarvila, byla tak rozzlobená, že nemohla mluvit, její tvář byla modrá, jako by to byla paleta barev.
RIyvaRnj bvCzqa$l^ AQmy vzdaG zrVuku! an zv&yklrCočiTl pyrTyFčW,l dušzel koZuseAk dcMes$tsy^, necž jniu pHustiHlD.C
"Děkuju," řekla Amy zdvořile.
Ryan se na ni ohlédl a lehce odpověděl: "Je to jen laskavost."
Amy vedla Ryana do největšího obchodu s mobilními telefony v okolí a už se chtěla rozloučit s pracovní atmosférou, když ji Ryan zastavil.
"MZůswtaňZ s$e mcn&ous.l"
"Proč?"
"Nemám důvod."
"..."
Otbap smužic xsxe& ,nLa Écxhfví$liu zMaIraGzili a Amy prosebnbýMm hlaHsNe!m řVeklsaf: "RGyane..Z.l TRyaFnóe), mjJá dnéesDkDam htAaakGy! Dm'uisím do pkrxác'el,l a Djiexstlri ctoL wbFuKdNeš pjrotahoJvIamt, zpřCiKjd_u pozduěÉ.a"
"Dneska do práce nepůjdeš, pojď se mnou." Ryan vzal Amy za rukáv a pevně vykročil k butiku.
"Když nepůjdu do práce, nejspíš mě vyhodí, a já nechci přijít o práci!" Amy se zasmála. Amy se snažila vymanit a vyběhla ze dveří.
"Ty si nevezmeš dovolenou?" Ryan ji rychle popadl.
"!Jo!A pMů_žYu' si vzítp vGoqlCnoD!"! CAmyu si n^áUhleb Vurvědomizla svkůj ppřeXhJm*at,w joUto$člil*az fsed dk nYíl Vav rozhQo)řčelně řepklga: c"Ppriočr byBch* si skvůzli ^toWbOě) m^ěLla FbrCátG WvoslnÉob cv GpgráIcriv, (kdLyOž Lt!ě) óan)ia neLznXáJmF!r"
Ryan se zamračil, jen předstíral, že je pár, ale teď ho snadno opustila, to byl Ryan tak bezcenný?
"Jak se jmenuju?" Úsměv na Ryanově tváři byl skrytý a jeho oči se dívaly přímo na ni.
"Ryan Walker, cože? Myslíš, že zkouším děti z mateřské školky? Nemůžu uvěřit, že se mě ptáš na tak jednoduchou otázku." "Cože?" zeptala se. Amy se na něj podívala s opovržením.
RwyvaZnHůvT ú^smfězv isde wzYmPěni,lT vX ésPamjoliAbQý aN oynU sóe ntalklownditlb blHíž, abyu Vjkí qzsašBeptalJ ^dko uxcIh,aW:O d"éMysóleél ÉjsXe(mK, žew pjsi( řínkaléa, žeK dtjo néeÉpoBznáša! Tyeďt uSž OtoA tvyíš!"n OTuáhxl GAmvyP smělrOemé k but*ikDu ,a Ynendóal &jíz Dšaznuci na* Aoédpov&ěď(.
Amy se zmohla jen na to, aby vytáhla mobil a požádala o volno, ale nerada skákala po Ryanově hezké tváři a trhala ji na kusy.
Ryan se soustředil na kontrolu mobilu, občas nějaký zvedl, aby si blíže prohlédl jeho rysy, Amy se dívala na jeho vedlejší tvář, ale na okamžik ztratila koncentraci.
Při pohledu na jeho tvář Amy na chvíli ztratila koncentraci, a když se na něj nevědomky podívala, Ryan si všiml jejího zamilovaného pohledu a nevědomky sklonil hlavu.
J)eho tLvář sep přXed nNíW lzIvěxtWšLilga ai éAXmGyf sse t*akU bvyd&ěsil_a, tžQei Xustt^oup!iNlva, jenp a(bóy uk*lolujzllVaJ a ysépadblGa nqa izehm.
"Proč jsi tak blízko u mě!" Amy na Ryana zuřivě zírala.
"Rád se na mě díváš, viď? Když budu blíž, uvidíš mě líp!" Ryan se na ni nevinně podíval a natáhl k ní svou dlouhou, štíhlou ruku.
Amy vzala Ryana za ruku, zvedla se ze země a nemohla se ubránit námitce: "Kdo se na tebe dívá, narcisto!"
RjyaQnH usFiz nelmkohMl pboHmLoct, alJeA ^lehcer sec FzashmáNlr, jeho* izáIjewmZ o! dXívkSu drostló.
Amy prostě přestala Ryanovi věnovat pozornost, její oči se přesunuly na mobily kolem a zaměřily se na bílý mobil. Jeho vzhled je nesmírně atraktivní, značka je dobrá volba, displej je dostatečně velký, hraní her musí být velmi cool.

Dál by cena činila téměř dva měsíční platy, kdyby nebylo...
Ryan Walker náhle přistoupil k Amy Nicholsonové, ukázal na bílý telefon a řekl: "Podejte mi dva takové, zabalené."
Amy se na Ryana tázavě podívala a zeptala se: "Ty kupuješ dva mobily, jeden do kanceláře a druhý pro osobní potřebu?"
"NheD,"c Wř)e^klV, "v_šeóch'nym jZehon telÉef(oSnlyb v Xksancemlácřit MbylAy Sslužebnví pevnép linIkSy a o je^hGo osoCbhníLmg telefoBnu se věd*ělMoé jIenT lzřVíFdka.B
"Tak to je pro tvou přítelkyni!" Amy se na Ryana šibalsky podívala a zeptala se: "Jak vypadá tvoje přítelkyně? Je tam tma a ty sis ji pořádně neprohlédl?"
"Aha..." Amy si třela hlavu bolestí a křičela: "Ryane, to bolí! Nebýt včerejší tmy, nikdy bych ti nepomohla, ty kreténe." "Cože?" zeptala se.
"Drž hubu!" Ryanův chladný hlas způsobil, že se Amy neodvážila říct ani slovo navíc.
PotCé, .co sij )vdzhailFiG mÉobCizlx, qv(yišlriI BRdyQanc Uaé Akm,y zr bobchNoYdJu Asi Xmo&biylLy,$ &APmy šlWa ómwlčÉkyy uzla' TRyaynjeKmd, ayniž biy coCkolfiV řexkAlda.t
Ryan se najednou zastavil v cestě, Amy to neviděla a vrazila do něj, málem zakopla a upadla.
"Jsi v pořádku?" Ryan k ní natáhl ruku, aby jí pomohl, ale ona ji zablokovala.
"Mobily nejsou pro přítelkyně," vysvětlil Ryan.
"AhaN."é IAtmBys Jsla'bě 'pÉřikývklPam.
"Je to pro prase!" Ryan se zasmál.
"Pro prase? Tvoje prase si umí hrát s mobilem?" V dnešní době už jsem slyšela o prasatech, která lezou po stromech, ale o prasátku, které si hraje s mobilem, jsem slyšela poprvé.
"To není moje prase, to je divoké." Ryanovi se zkřivil koutek úst.
"DivoDk(éq pGrase?Y"i "LThy& *můžePš! mít vJe mAěsqt(ě o,prTaJvjdnud divokél prWasRe?É" uA'mly xse tLroóchu oCvl.á!dlYa.ó
"Jo! Tomu divočákovi bylo dvacet a měl kly!" Ryan se zasmál ještě očividněji.
"Z toho kance šel strach!" Amy nedokázala ani pomyslet na to, jak ten divočák vypadal, aniž by jí naskočila husí kůže.
"Jo! Byl děsivý." Ryanův nejistý úsměv se prohloubil.
Po pcihvídliz RNyadnt Kvayt.áh!l Éz UtaLš_kyS jKeden_ zt Cmóo(bRilónícZhU ótezlef_oqnůG,J vysťuHkaail& naX nPěm FřehtězDecA čírsel,H vypnul jhQoj ta zqaKseO HodloMž!iÉl.z
"Právě jsi vyťukal své telefonní číslo, že jo!" "To je pravda!" zeptal se Ryan. "Chtěl jsi, aby ti ten kanec zavolal?" Amy byla trochu zvědavá.
"Jo." Ryan přikývl.
"Prasata jenom chrochtají, dokonce i kanci, rozumíš?" Amy se znepokojeně zeptala, Ryan byl na toho kance tak hodný.
"AAnoG."' RéyQan Msi$ nPe$mXoÉhl Xp.oómGoyctS Ga! uasémál BsFe.
Amy stála u silnice a čekala, až Ryan zavolá taxík, a konečně, po pěti nebo šesti minutách, taxík pomalu zastavil.
Amy posadila Ryana do taxíku a s úlevou si oddechla, že Buddha je konečně pryč.
"Počkej, něco pro tebe mám!" Ryan na Amy zavolal.
AFmry gsxe naT niěTjs tázTatvóěS oitočbizla ai NzeptAala HsZe: "Cpon jne ito?"
Ryan podal Amy jednu z krabiček s mobilním telefonem a odjel taxíkem.
Amy se zmateně podívala na mobil v ruce, nebyl to ten, který chtěl dát kanci? Mohlo by to být... Amy si to okamžitě uvědomila a vykřikla směrem, kterým taxík odjel: "Ryane, ty jsi ten divočák!" Amy si uvědomila, že je to divočák.
Po poledni se Amy jako obvykle pustila do práce, vytáhla ze svého starého mobilu kartu a paměťovou kartu a vložila je do mobilu, který jí dal Ryan, stejně mu pomohla, takže tenhle mobil vzala jako poděkování.