скачать книгу бесплатно
It’s summer. It’s 1948. Moscow. She is a travelling substance. She can’t see herself, but she can hear and see everything around. She has a great ability to move fast in space like a comet or asteroid in the depth of the universe. She has no obstacles: as a bodiless spirit, she can easily go through walls, buildings, fences, big factories and whatever else.
Here she is rushing through Moscow narrow streets. The streets aren’t crowded yet. The huge pedestrial areas are empty. There are almost no cars. One maybe two… the roads are empty. It’s so good.
Victoria is flying somewhere. She doesn’t understand why and where but some power pulls her as if she was in the middle of the strongest whirlpool. She has no possibility to resist spontaneous forces that are pulling her forward.
She turns out to be at Vagankovo cemetery. There is no one on the paths but only a young girl and walking old lady. The girl is staying near a grave of a man. The hill is new-made. The black ground hardly had time to get covered with dry crust, the flowers are still alive, come out with the buds, giving beauty to the dead. I wonder if they know they’re already dead, too.
The girl is near the new-made hill and has tears in her eyes. She carefully wipes them away with her palm, a smile appears on her face for a second, full of happy memories and desperation. She asks the questions which no one hears but only the dead and her own mind. It’s not a surprise that there are tremendous scales of hopelessness.
The old woman is slowly walking along the path, at a modest pace tapping with her walking cane made from some wood. She’s mumbling words, speaking and asking someone. The old woman lifts her eyes up and sees the grieving girl. Serpentine, fast and swift moves and the old woman, seemed before to be hardly stand on her feet, turns out to be near the mourning girl. The woman touches the girl’s palm with her bony and sinewy hand. It is wet because of tears…
‘You…’
Victoria opened her eyes. There was Kharon’s face with an obvious riddle on before hers.
‘What an interesting dream,’ he whispered. ‘You seem to be coming to yourself.’
The girl carefully moved her fingers and she was so happy when her limbs responded to the call of the brain. She couldn’t help smiling.
‘Kharon’ she said in a strident voice, having understood her organism functioning again. ‘I’ve been so scared.’
‘Hush,’ he put his finger on across her whispering lips, ‘you have no need to speak now, to expend your energies to describe the thing I’ve been watching the whole day.’
Victoria looked at him in surprise. What did he mean the whole day? She thought she was sleeping for ten minutes. Victoria shifted her gaze at the clock and got surprised: it was seven pm. The picture behind the window told the same.
‘7 pm?’ Vic decided to confirm the seeing.
‘No, it’s 58 minutes and 32 seconds to 7 pm. You have to rest. Don’t speak and move.’
‘I need to go to the bathroom.’
‘Bathroom?’ Kharon asked in amaze. ‘Oh, sure. Bathroom!’
He took her in his arms and went to the bathroom.
‘I need to put on.’
‘Why? You look beautiful. When finished your business, call me. I’ll bring you back.’
Touching every inch Victoria was moving forward, holding the wall. Having done her business Vic got into the shower cubicle also by inches of the wall. The night before was too pleasant not to let any tracks which had to be washed off despite she’d like to keep them forever.
Water quietly purled, enveloping the body with cool freshness. Vic had to sit on the floor under the shower as she had no strength to stay but she had to wash herself.
Having heard water sounds Kharon came up to the bathroom door and closed his eyes. He wanted so much to read the girl’s mind, understand and accept it. But her heard nothing. Unconscious instinct of the witch worked well, and the demon realized it. Not knowing Vic hid and closed everything that was on her mind from him. Witches were usually very powerful and strong creatures. However, to have any impact on incubus she had a little strength, but she would obviously try. That was for sure. Kharon didn’t want that to happen. But he didn’t also want Victoria to hide her mind from him. If he said to her that it was her exactly who closed her from him, there would be many questions which the demon wouldn’t like to answer.
A loud crash distracted the demon from thinking. He immediately came into the bathroom. Under the water pressure, having leaned on the glass wall, the girl was sitting with a smile on her face. There were bottles lying around which had fallen with crash.
The demon silently and thoughtfully looked at the smooth legs, holding together, tucked up beneath the girl. The smile was on her face. The stupid one. Shameful eyes yearned him to see her nudeness and by leaps and bounds being afraid of it. Her fingers nervously touched the lying near bottles. Her wet hair, having become different colour, curled because of water, hid the upper part of her body.
Kharon was serious, quiet and pensive. Slightly screwed his eyes up, he was intently looking at the girl’s smile. How much strength she needed to smile? To keep that smile? Why did she do that if she couldn’t almost stand it? She had no energy, it’d been taken away. The died-out site of life fire was still in her eyes, her fingers shook, the heart beat quiet, she had barely energy to take a sigh to fill her lungs with air… And now she was wasting energy to smile.
‘Why are you…’ Victoria closed her eyes, made a pause, exhaled and whispered again, ‘looking at me… like this?’
Her question didn’t sound like a question. If there’d been no “why” Kharon would hardly have got that Vic had asked something.
‘You’re strange people. I’m getting more and more interested – why? Why are you smiling when your heart’s crying?
Kharon squatted down near the girl. She closed her eyes and was about to faint again, relaxing her body as her strength failed her quickly. But she didn’t wipe her smile away.
‘Because it’s always more pleasantly to look at a smile,’ she muttered, throwing back her head, gasping.
Kharon kept silence. He didn’t understand. Who carried what others like? Why did she need to think of it?
‘You have to think of obtaining your energy stores not of smiling. It’d be better and… more logically.’
‘I don’t think…’ a deep inhale. ‘I just wanna smile… at you. Wash me, please, I’m exhausted.’
The girl stopped moving her fingers and got frozen. Then her smile died on her lips. She seemed not to be breathing, looked like a dead. Kharon took the washing spray and directed the gentle water trickles on the weak girl. The goosebumps appeared at once, but Victoria didn’t shiver.
The man carefully raised slightly her head to kiss her wet lips. They were lifeless fully. He wetted her red, grown dim hair again.
‘Every time I touch your head, by force of will I can hear your thoughts streaming in your head… I can hear you want to smile because you’re happy with what’s going on now… But you have no energy to do what you want to. I feel your thoughts speaking impudently and unwittingly, begging me to lay your body in arms of fondling… now. Tell me, Victoria, are you… out of your mind?’
Having heard the question Vic tried to open her eyes, move somehow, deny persecution. But all was for nothing.
‘No, don’t. Don’t speak.’ Kharon stroked her with water then put his hand on her forehead. ‘No, dear, I didn’t mind offending you. Don’t take it so hard. I’m just trying to understand you.’
The demon didn’t take his hand away from her head, reading all the information like if he had been blind touched with his fingers Braille script in a speechless book. Her thoughts were so pleasant for him! He loved her thinking about him, he liked that she liked him. He just liked… But Kharon even didn’t try to get that unusual feeling of love. He had never felt nothing of it and in fact he didn’t understand why he needed it.
Kharon brought the weak girl in the room and got her to bed. For a long time, he was sitting near her, examining the night coming down, made him deep into his thoughts.
He glanced at the sleeping girl and, having grinned, he left home. His interest in everything around him didn’t leave him alone. He wanted to study people…
4
October 2013 (Friday)
A week later after the night spend with almost the Devil Victoria finally felt healthy, found energies and easiness. That was Friday. Victoria was at work, tried to project a new design of company product.
She drew with not stopping, examined fine details and dashes, having no desire to think about anything. She had a well-drown sketch when there was a small envelop in the display corner.
Vic stopped drawing, having torn herself away from the sketch and looked at the blinked envelop.
“What’s that?” was her thought when she thought gritted teeth put the pen aside and started reading message details.
Good morning, Victoria
I inform you that on behalf of the country manager, Gregory Dogmanov, the meeting has been arranged for today at 3 pm. Business-lunch takes place on the 3d floor in “La Esperanza” cafе. Please, have your laptop with you.
Executive Assistant
Lidia Sviridova”
The girl frowned and read the message again. She didn’t know who Gregory Dogmanov was and what a business-lunch was settled and why her participation was necessary. She got share of distrust and doubt in her mind. What if they were going to dismiss her? On the other hand, the country manager absolutely had something else to do but not to invite potentially dismissed employees to lunches.
The girl let it all hang out and kept on drawing. She bended very low above her sketch, intently scratching details with the plastic pen, which were transferred into the display at once.
Suddenly all stopped. There were no moves. Silence. Victoria didn’t like it ahead of the game. As she was no stranger to when the world stopped moving and it meant a crappy omen completely.
Her eyes became heavy… Victoria resisted but as a result she closed her eyes and turned out to be in some washy hall. Flying through it at a great speed, she tried to see murmurated things. The walls were enweaved of glimpses of strangers’ faces, indoor scenes, multi-coloured lightings and letters. There were many different letters not only in Cyrillic. Everything surrounded flew through Victoria fast-paced. She didn’t have time to catch anything with her eyes, dissolving in the eternal vision stream.
Then all stopped. Again. All was paralyzed. There was an intimate atmosphere. It had a soft semi-darkness, failing light, cosy arm-chairs with cushions. Vic felt sitting in one of the arm-chairs. There was a glass table but not transparent. Napkins, cutlery, salts and casters were carefully served the table.
Relax music sounded, warmed and filled with romantic pictures. There was a female tone. Sugary one. It was so pleasant to listen to it and understand nothing. The song was in French. It was for the better.
In front of her a young man was sitting. No, it was a man. A solid, self-confident one.
He wore a jacket with cuffs, smooth face, straight parting on his head. He seemed to be an ideal and mannered. He had neither imperfection nor defect.
Victoria cocked her head, having frowned, studied the cared-for look man.
‘Victoria’ he stood up and extended his hand. ‘I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Gregory.’
The girl stood up, too and took his hand and smiled having known what to say.
‘Pleasure is mine.’
They both sat to the table. Gregory studied the girl sitting in front of him, she studied his professionally and carefully done nails.
‘I’d like to discuss current situation about the re-design of our main package.’ The man gave the fat paper case to the girl. ‘But let’s begin with our lunch. Lady’s first.’
Gregory gave the menu to the girl also, intently following her with his eyes.
‘Ok.’
Vic was laconic. All the atmosphere confused her a bit. After quick glance at the menu Vic ordered just sea-buckthorn tea.
‘Mr Dogmanov,’ the girl closed the menu and looked at the man’s eyes. ‘I’ve already projected a new design of this product. I was going to send it for your approval. So, as you started talking about it, let me show you some sketches and templates.’
Vic took out her laptop, moved closer to Gregory and opened the laptop.
‘Well let’s see,’ she began, after she had opened the first presentation slide.
Vic spoke a lot, clearly, trying to convey a persuasive message her interlocutor. Unexpectedly she felt his leg touch hers under the table.
That was an accident, she thought. Vic shot a surprised look at Gregory and stopped speaking for a moment.
‘I’m sorry,’ the man smiled. ‘Go on your presentation. It’s very interesting.’
‘…This slide consists of a new form, more advanced that, my opinion, matches the product better than the previous one.’
Gregory watched the presentation of the new project carefully. His lunch was getting cold but they both dipped into the bright display.
‘Wow!’ the man exhaled, having fixed his tie, as Victoria had finished her presentation. ‘I’m really glad that our HR employed you. This project has to be on my table by tomorrow afternoon. I approved it fully and give the go-ahead for realization of each slides.’
The girl couldn’t help smiling, listening to flattered and winy boasting in her way. Words dint fail Gregory when he heaped the girl’s efforts with expressing thanks and enthusiastic shouting. Only the next touch of his leg to hers made Victoria come back to reality.
‘I’m sorry,’ Vic thought she was to blame. ‘I should move back.’
The girl rose quickly when she felt his strong fingers squeezing her wrist.
‘Victoria, please,’ Gregory rose, languishingly looked at her eyes.
Victoria couldn’t believe neither her eyes nor her ears. What was it? The country manager asked her to stay near him… It couldn’t be.
‘I’d like,’ he added, ‘to see another project. Ludmila told me about your initiatives in the field of graphic representation of the product slogan. I’d like to see it. Do you have it?’’
‘Yes,’ the fascinated girl answered, looking into the man’s eyes.
Gregory liked madly liked her look, full of interests, misunderstanding, charming and ambitious to know. What a man wouldn’t like that? There was only one problem which the man had no idea about: Victoria was looking at a woman, standing behind Gregory’s back. Only Vic knew that woman not to be seen by anyone.
The spirit stroked the man’s shoulders, shaking off invisible flecks of dust, motherly touching his back. A smile of pain froze on her lips, the glass tears were on her cheeks. Of course, there was her son before her!
Vic clearly saw every resemblance between them: they both have the same noses, lip lines and plush, eye shape and colour, more looked like European than Russian. Having completely realized that it was a spirit of Gregory’s mother, who carried her favourite son even after the death, Vic finally looked aside, sat and opened her laptop.
‘There are only sketches here they’ve not been dotted and crossed yet.’
‘Ok, I’m ready to follow your ideas.’ Gregory smiled, sitting closer to the girl.
A half of hour had passed before they finished discussing the second project sketches. Gregory made a few simple modifications more likely for form’s sake. Victoria listened patiently to the country manager’s commentaries, finishing her tea with sea-buckthorn.
‘Well, colleague,’ Gregory found himself taking the girl by the hand and smiling.
Vic looked at his smile and more and more understood that his smile had nothing to do with job. It looked like friendly but there were barely noticeable and captured shadows of affection in moderato in value of thirty-second notes.
His hand, tenderly holding her cold, pale and tired fingers just accompanied those shadows in his smile, confirming their existence.
The spirit of the old lady, being worried about her son’s fate, frowned. Vic realized the woman looked exactly at her, straight into her face. Its gaze was unbearably heavy, painful and awful.
‘The Devil’s bride…’ Vic heard the certain whisper.
The girl looked around: people wearing suits, were busy with their lunches, from time to time saying something about business; the woman-spirit studied with a cool stare her son’s hand giving its warmth to the odious girl; songs were in French.
Who said that? Whose whisper was it? A female one? The spirit? No, it couldn’t. Its lips silently compressed.
‘The Devil’s bride…’ the same whisper sounded again.
Victoria got more frowned. She looked at the spirit of the old lady and saw her whitish discorporate hand raise and try to unclasp his fingers which had been still holding Victoria’s hand.
