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The waiter nodded and left. Victoria smiled and lowered her eyes.
‘How did you do this?’ she asked.
‘My dear,’ he bended closer to her, ‘Every day, every minute, every second I can hear scopes of voices and among them I can clearly hear your voice begging and asking me for something. Sometimes it unbearably begs to touch you… But I control myself… More cheese and seafood… Ok. I got you.’
Victoria didn’t stop smiling. It was a fairy tale, stupid mystic but the demon had been on earth about two or more days. And the girl considered her to be the happiest person in the world. She had never felt such a big and unusual emotional spectrum. And she, of course, was completely and irreversibly possessed with love to unhuman, insidious and mendacious creature. For the whole time she never thought that she was a fool! She didn’t consider that to be in love was stupid. No matter with whom to be in love. That was the society that labelled that being in love with a poor man was ashamed but being in love with a fat rich one was ashamed but good. Love didn’t know what shame meant, the society did. Moreover, it decided and imposed its will. The society said who you should be in love with and whom you shouldn’t. You needed to listen to it to survive in that case if you were not really in love. The society could impose its will only on those who had no sincere feelings, didn’t understand that word could kill, no matter whose word was it.
The girl was bogged down in her fairy tale, in the demon’s face beauty. She was going crazy when she saw his lip corner was getting up; being fascinated she saw his eyes devour her, how sweetly they screwed, looking her in a ravishing ecstasy; his hands’ moves were smoothly, snaky and so gently despite of its male brutality; his scent… Oh Dear Lord, his scent! It had waved her already mad mind. It was impossible to describe it but having smelled Victoria just wanted the man to embrace her, pressed her to him, kiss; she wanted to feel to be protected; his voice sound was ravishing and waving, you could listen to in for many hours, streaming through the mind, enveloping the consciousness. And even when Kharon was silent, the echo of his voice had been still sounding without leaving for any second.
‘Why is there a competition between your worlds?’ Victoria tried to distract herself from thoughts about Kharon.
‘It’s a twisted, heavy… war. God always wanted to be good. He spoke well and beautiful, people believed him. They do still. But he didn’t let them choose and spoke about his virtues, showing himself a box of god qualities. We were precipitated due to his will… We disgowned and now we have rights, including speaking. Lucifer is a strict Lord, he can impose someone to do what he wants but he will never make people believe in him. Lucifer always called for materialism. In his turn God always spoke about ideology, about love for someone whom people never saw. God actually doesn’t like visiting his subordinates… Lucifer isn’t fastidious to spend couple of weeks with you…’
‘Does Lucifer live among people?’ Victoria was surprised.
‘He does, sometimes. When he’s depressed, he comes to the earth. God is never depressed or, well, he just doesn’t want to come to you. You’ve fatigued him with your non-god business. I don’t want to show you all our “heaven” misunderstanding. It’s been for many thousand years and we sometimes don’t understand why this or that thing happens.’
‘Uh…’ Victoria took a sigh, ‘Difficulties are always unpleasant. So, do you often ask a permission?’
‘Practically we do.’
‘Wait! If you want to kill, will you ask a permission?’
‘As I told you some demons lie…. If I wanna kill someone so to chatter and make him agree for his own death is not an unusual thing. If Abaddon is in front of you, he will never ask you. He will just tear off your head and eat it. In fact, Victoria, every spirit, demon and deuce has its own personality. Some will want to play with you, others – to speak, and someone just rips you onto micro particles and atoms…’
For a long time, Victoria was torturing Kharon with her questions about the hell structure. The demon humbly answered all of them and almost told the truth.
Suddenly he thought Victoria wasn’t the worst company in the world. Moreover, he liked her. Certainly, he understood his nature inclination to women. He liked them all but only for a night. Kharon never communicated with them not before sex nor after. Victoria was the first woman of human world whom the demon had to spend time with. An idea crossed his mind that he was interested in a human life puzzles, he wondered what a human went through, what he felt. Kharon had always seen people through dreams… He used to know that a dream was something that didn’t exist. In dream those people knew nothing about sincere feelings, about shame and confusion. It was faceless existence in the shade of his own consciousness. Kharon was really interested in how much people could live into reality, forgetting about their own personality.
‘I think it’s my turn to ask, isn’t it, dear?’ Kharon opened the door, let the girl get in.
‘Looks like this,’ she smiled at him and suspiciously took him by the hand.
‘Why do you reject my endearment?’ he squeezed her fingers but kept the distance between them. If he let himself something more to the girl, she immediately lost self-control and no one could get any answers after.
Victoria looked aside. Here was it! The shame and confusion in one bottle, firmly twisted with each other. Red cheeks, puppy eyes. Kharon listened to her shameful thoughts and smiled.
‘I told you… romanticism.’
‘Yes, right, I remember… I just don’t understand when its terms are over. How much time do people need for romanticism?’
‘Kharon, you’re asking such questions which unfortunately I can’t answer. I’d like to but I really don’t know. It’s unpredictable… Just let’s live and I’ll be enjoying your presence… then others. Excuse me.’
The girl pulled the cell out from her bag.
‘Hi, Vasilisa!’ Vic gave silent Kharon an excuse smile. ‘Yes, sure. What’s happened? Yet? Meet?’
Victoria looked at Kharon again with blameful eyes. She was confused. Her friend needed to meet to share her feelings and emotions. On the other hand, there was Kharon whose feeling, and emotions Victoria wanted to know not less.
‘Fine, when are you gonna be at Mayakovskay? Well I’ll be waiting at the square… Kharon,’ Victoria said to Kharon. ‘You’d come with me, I will introduce you to Vasilisa. She is my… friend.’
‘Friend?’ he asked. ‘A friend sounded very interesting from a person who denies friendship with her all might because she was betrayed by friends not once. Why do you believe people and call them friends again? Didn’t it hurt? Did the disappointment strike you to the depth of your heart? I can see your remembrance… Does it here hurt when you’re betrayed by these who you love?’ He took her by the hand and put it to her chest. ‘Too much hurts… I can feel your every neuron. Where do you get strengths to call anyone a friend again?’
There were tears in Victoria’s eyes. He was still holding her hand pressed to his chest and the girl remembered the pain again.
Of course, he dug perfectly in her past. He clearly saw those people’s faces whom she used to call friends then they betrayed her, tramped down her heart, having spitted into her soul. He moved her painful past again like pitchfork pierced through the dry straw.
Vic said nothing but looked at his eyes, being shocked with rushed memories. The tear was coming down her cheek. The demon was gazing the wet trace left on her velvet skin. He brushed away the tear and kissed her cheek.
‘Don’t…’ he whispered, ‘Tears are very strong particles having lots of information. You shouldn’t shed. Any past, any bad past should be being thought of but not shed. You should thank your past for that today you’re like you. Your friend has to come out of the second carriage already and can’t understand where she has to go next.’
Victoria laughed, brushing away the tears. Kharon smiled, memorizing where betray pain located.
They both stayed at the square in fifteen meters far from the metro entrance. Finally, Vasilisa appeared from behind the doors.
Having seen her Victoria was glad and nervous at the same time. Kharon and she didn’t make up a story of their first meeting… Vic didn’t want to lie. But to say “this is Kharon, a man from Hell and I sold my soul to The Devil to get Kharon’s love” wasn’t a good idea.
A woman walking near Vasilisa cooled Vic a few.
‘Vic, hi!’ her friend shouted from far.
‘Hi!’ she answered and nodded at the woman.
She said nothing but silently looked at Vic in replay. Victoria shrugged her shoulders and switched over to Vasilisa.
Her friend was looking at Kharon. It was understandable. Kharon was very attractive. You just wanted to look at him…always and everywhere. His features would be good for everyone.
‘This is Kharon.’ Victoria introduced her company.
‘Vasya..lisa.’ The girl wasn’t even going to hide her admire, desire to look and flashed envy. Vasya shifted her eyes at Vic, expecting her to explain the strange and unexpected acquaintance.
‘Kharon and I… Hm…’ Vic hesitated without knowing how to say and the most important what.
‘Victoria is my girl!’ the demon saved the situation.
‘Well, that’s great!’ Vasilisa said having got nothing. ‘So, you both will tell me your story in a cafе as I’m devilishly hungry.’
With no discussion they moved to the underground passage. Each of them felt strange at least. Victoria didn’t plan to meet with her friend that day. Besides she was embarrassed because of the woman walking near Vasilisa. Vasilisa didn’t introduce her! As there was no woman!
Kharon was thinking about his phrase – “she’s my girl”. What was he supposed to do to make Vasilisa believe him?
Kharon and Victoria sat at the table and Vasilisa and the woman went to buy meal. The girl was burning her “boyfriend” with her eyes.
‘What’ve I done wrong?’ he asked finally in a low voice.
‘No, no, it’s ok. I like what you said Vasya about us… Now we have to make up the love story…’
‘Oh’ the demon interrupted her, ‘you can trust me and don’t forget to play up to me.’
‘Jesus, everyone has got crazy! I hardly bought my meal. God damn it. Well, tell me: what, when, how?’
The demon glanced at his girl. Vasilisa was staring at both of them, eating the sandwich with almost its cover.
‘Maybe we’ll start from you?’ Vic asked carefully.
‘Nope!’ the friend shook her finger. ‘I’ve got a usual after-three-months breaking up. But you…you’ve got something unusual. Where did you meet, Kharon?’
Vasilisa addressed her question to the man having got that her friend was shy.
‘Three months ago, I was in metro… I saw a girl who was reading something in her notebook without stopping. She was leaned over her writings like a kite, having hid herself in her red hair. I was watching her and didn’t move to scare her. Honestly, I was frenzied. There was something… demonic in the red devil. I couldn’t tear myself away from her. After two stations passed by, I understood that I wanted that girl to look at me. No, I didn’t want but I craved for it. Probably with the help of a thought power I made her eyes tear away from the papers and look at me. Her dark-olive eyes were staring my face for several seconds and it was enough for me to understand that I had to know her name and phone number at least.’
The demon stopped speaking and smiled. The both girls were looking at him, having opened their mouths. Vasilisa forgot herself to be hungry. Victoria was listening to a beautiful story, being a little bit upset with that the reality was different from what the demon was telling.
‘What happened next?’ Vasya asked with her mouth full of meal, after she finally remembered about it.
Kharon kept on telling his fascinating story. Victoria looked at the woman sitting near Vasya. She was silent. She had so whitish eyes. Vic had never seen such eye colour before. They were empty, terrible and colourless like transparent lenses sold for a half of a coin at a second-hand sell. The pupil was dirty with fat fingertip prints, the colour disappeared. You could hardly have looked at such eyes: you would look away because you’d feel sympathy or sick.
Victoria didn’t feel quite herself because of the way the silent woman was looking at her in. Victoria felt like that because of the woman’s paleness and white-pink lips, chapped thoroughly. Her lips were so dry that Victoria instinctively wanted to give water to that woman just to help her in any way.
‘Who’s it?’ Vic asked, interrupted Kharon’s story.
‘Where?’ Vasya looked around.
‘The woman sitting near you. You haven’t introduced us.’
‘The woman?’ Vasilisa asked in surprise, looking over the empty chairs near her.
Kharon was frowning. His face was so serious as if he was in the edge of discovery of something unusual. Maybe it was. Vasilisa smiled, put the rest of her sandwich at the tray and instantly pierced into her friend with her eyes.
‘The woman, right?’ she summed up. ‘What woman? What’s wrong with you, Vic?’
‘This one!’ Victoria said but not in such a confident voice as before, staring into the stranger’s eyes.
‘Listen, you started scaring me. There’s no woman.’ Vasilisa demonstratively got up and sat down on the empty chair.
It seemed like no one, but Victoria saw a greyish fog cloud raised up after Vasilisa sat on “the woman” and next second it came down again at another chair still near Vasilisa.
Little by little Victoria started understanding what woman she saw who no one else saw.
‘You don’t see her, neither, do you?’ Vic asked Kharon with fear.
The man shook his head confusingly, taking the last hope from Victoria to believe her not to be an insane.
‘You mean that you’re still seeing her?’ Vasilisa asked.
‘No.’ Vic said quickly and looked away from the woman. ‘No, I’m just kidding.’
‘I’m glad that it was your trick.’ Kharon decided to say anything.
He, of course, understood more than others that there was nothing about jokes. He perfectly remembered Lucifer’s words and was too afraid of that what was going to happen in future. The wandering witch near the demonic essence was bad for the witch and the demon…
‘Fine.’ Vasilisa exclaimed and turned her eyes to the man. ‘You’ve met in such a romantic way, Kharon!’
‘Yes,’ the man destructed himself from his thoughts. ‘From that very minute it seems to me that I’ve been faced love and I wanna it be nearby.’
Vasilisa mercilessly tortured the poor demon with questions which he answered let his amusing imagination be free. He studied to speak in reality, carefully following the girl’s reaction. He was important to understand what she liked and did not. It was an attempt to put, immerse into a human psychology that the demon thought was something impossible and changeable. He spoke something funny as he thought he expected the girl to laugh but there was confusion and perplexity on her face. He tried to speak of serious things, and she smiled. What could be in her head? How to work with it he didn’t know also.
Victoria wasn’t listening to Kharon’s stories. She was staring at what that no one could see, at what that didn’t exist for anyone. She was observing the woman… the woman spirit which had been following her friend.
Victoria looked aside, called herself a crazy fool in her thoughts. What spirits? Could they exist? Idiotism! Vic didn’t want to think any more about it. There were no ghosts, spirits and other dead.
Vic stared at Kharon trying to switch over to his unbelievable beauty.
Vasilisa was telling him about her painful feelings after she had broken up with her young man, whom Victoria even didn’t have time to see. Her friend was talking about that life was unfair to mock her in such a way. She asked, when she was able to fall in love. She was getting through again and again.
Kharon was listening carefully and didn’t understand what was going with that girl. The demon could hear not only what she was speaking about but what she was thinking about. And she wasn’t thinking about her broken up and a poor fate but about she was unlucky because such man as Kharon wasn’t sitting near her but near the red-hair witch.
The demon was sincerely surprised why it went like that. How could she speak one thing while she was thinking of completely different…?
He heard Victoria’s thoughts who was clearly gave probably studied answers to Vasilisa, thinking about the woman with whitish eyes. At once she could be understood: how many times did Victoria listen to the same stories? How many tears did Vasya shed on her friend’s shoulder? How many times did Victoria try to help? Then she got fed up with it.
There were three months of unrestrained passion, burning in agony love, languorous desire and that’s all. After it doom and emptiness came. The feeling of loneliness… A lone wasp, striped, beautiful and bright… dead and covered with dust layer.
‘Jesus…’ Victoria whispered, taking her cell out of the bag, ‘It’s my mum…’
The girl looked up at the display: that’s right, that was her mum calling her.
‘Yeap’ she answered with no desire. ‘It’s ok. It seems like I’ve got a job. I’m gonna prepare my papers tomorrow. Are you at home today? Good. Me? In the centre, at Mayakovskaya Vasilisa and me are drinking coffee. Late, mum. Ok. I’ve got it.’
Victoria was getting angry with every asked question, but her mother insisted on her question being answered by her daughter.
‘Why do you speak with your mum in this way?’ Kharon asked unexpectedly.
Vic looked at him, at Vasilisa and dropped her head. She touched the napkins, taking sighs but kept silence. What was she supposed to say? She didn’t like speaking about her family atmosphere.
‘It’s complicated to explain,' at least she made herself speak.
The girl looked at the man with eyes full of tears.
Her mother and Vic’s relations left much to be desired. They loved each other like other parents and their children did, but they didn’t understand each other. Her mother wanted one thing, the daughter wanted absolutely another. For long time no one had listened to Victoria. Parents always had a great argument – “I know better because I’m older” and you could have nothing to do.
Olga Vladimirovna had been proving her daughter that she shouldn’t get bad marks at school. She expected her daughter would follow in her mother’s footprints and become a doctor. Victoria didn’t want it. For some time, there had been flaming conflicts in their family until Vic entered the university to get degree in design art.
In her childhood her mother tried to make her daughter be in gymnastics because she had wanted to be the one when she was young. Victoria didn’t like it and she got in dances.
That was what was going on for all her life. There was an opposition even about food: Olga Vladimirovna never made macaroni that Victoria liked…
At the deep evening Kharon was holding Victoria’s hands and looking at her eyes, trying to smile. Vic was perplexed.
