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The man stood at her and looked at her eyes, watching her ludicrous attempts to hide. He was in doubt silently berated himself for abortive decisions.
Victoria remained obstinately mute and waited for what would happen next. She understood well what Gregory want to speak about and that wouldn’t be a problem if she hadn’t need to answer him. She had no answers.
Before her eyes the pictures were like speedlights: Gregory and she were naked in bed. Victoria didn’t know whose room was it, but it wasn’t hers absolutely! Another picture showed Gregory stroked her thigh, kissing her hard, the light was fading away. The genital areas were smudgy as if they were censored. The third picture depicted their sex. The image was more smudgy than the previous one, but Victoria understood that there was a love-making itself. It was so dull and doleful… After she had seen the picture Vic realized that all of those weren’t her thoughts and fantasies. It was Gregory’s impure thoughts, doomed to fail, getting through into her head.
‘About what, Mr. Dogmanov?’ Victoria looked sideways at the silent man.
‘You.’ He sighed and met her eyes.
‘Me?’ the girl stared, at first from surprise. ‘What’s wrong about me?’
‘It’s not the point that there’s something wrong about you. The point is that…’ Gregory took her hand, ‘…I just wanted to congratulate you that your probationary period is over successfully! Congratulations!’
The man shook her hand and went away with rapid steps. Victoria stared after him in bewilderment and he stare fixed at the woman’s phantom.
‘Leave my son alone!’ Victoria heard a threatened whisper from another world.
‘Far be it from me to be with him!’ the girl snapped back. ‘If you need then you look after your son! I don’t care a damn about him!’
Vic was storming. Weren’t people really able to distinguish truth and lie? Was another world imperfect?
While the girl was grumbling at the ghost, she didn’t even notice a living person, not a ghost, staying in the doorway.
‘Delivery’s for you… on the first ground.’ The colleague said, having glanced at the girl curiously, and left the office, ‘Completely demented…’
Victoria heard the colleague call her demented and at the first time probably she realized difference between when you call yourself a psycho and when someone else did it.
The girl went down and met a bearded man’s eyes who looked antisocial. Her instinct told her that of all the people crowded in the lobby of the building this unattractive man was a courier.
‘Good afternoon. Are you Victoria Drache?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Delivery’s for you.’
‘But I’ve ordered nothing.’
‘I know. This is the gift from… just a second,’ the man got in the inside pocket, ‘it’s from Mr. Kharon… Unfortunately, he didn’t say his surname.’
Finally, a smile appeared on her confused face. A warm wave ran over her body. Vic could feel them one by one, running over the red-hot muscles and vessels. She felt slight shiver, poignant her nervous, fascinated the girl.
Vic took the package stretched to her and suddenly she understood that the man delivered nothing on the earth.
‘Have a good day,’ the man said having looked at the girl mysteriously, smiled and melt in the crowd.
Vic came back to her office, put the package on the table and stared at it. Having no ideas how but Vic already knew that there was a small box, the consist of which she could see unclearly. It was something globe-shaped, small and full of red colour. It wasn’t a ring.
The girl smiled and finally opened the package. Yes. It was a box of turquois colour. It was an ecrin. There was usually jewellery in the same. Despite its light weight Victoria understood this small thing was a great value.
‘Open it now!’ she ordered and opened the box.
There was an ideally cut crystal of red-burgundy colour, in size of a thumb nail. There was a real kaleidoscope of red tinctures in the middle of the mineral. The beauty and the unusualness of the gem stone consumed the girl’s perception and mind. She fascinatedly gazed at the stone glamming, as its light seemed to pull down, consume the viewer’s perception. A phone call broke Victoria’s careful gazing at the stone.
‘…I can see it, Love,’ Victoria heard the voice belonged to her beloved man. ‘It’s on your palm and you think that the parts of your skin that the stone touches are getting more and more alive, don’t you? I can see its unusual colour reflect in your eyes, the colour of the ripe pomegranate… It really does for your eyes.’
Her chest raised more often, her pulse was beyond the limits, established by WHO.
‘What’s it, Kharon?’ she whispered.
‘Painith.’
‘Pa… what?’
‘Pa-i-nith as people call it on the earth. Do you like it?’
‘I do! It’s really beautiful. I can’t tear myself away from it…’
‘I can understand you.’ Kharon smiled. ‘It’s one of the most beautiful stones of Lucifer’s collection.’
‘Is this Lucifer’s stone?’ Vic gave a shiver after she had heard the Lord of Hell’s name.
‘Well, no. Lucifer has similar and thinks it to be one of the most beautiful ones on the earth. I agree with him.’
‘Yea…’ Victoria mysteriously looked at the stone. ‘So do I.’
‘In two minutes a hopelessly in love with you man comes to you who this morning wanted to make you his obtrusive declaration of love… But he was in a blue funk.’
‘Jesus,’ Vic got upset having heard the demon’s prediction and being doomed, she sank into the chair, firmly holding the gift in her fist.
‘No, it’s not him,’ Kharon answered coldly. ‘I’m waiting for you at home.’
The man hanged up the phone and frowned at the cell in his hand. He felt bad: his body, organized in a different way, had a lack of energy. He needed to eat. He had given too much to the girl having nothing in return. He needed to get power…
He unceremoniously got into someone’s dream. Having seen the most beautiful nature of the Alps and not less beautiful girl skiing, the demon couldn’t help hiding victorious smile. The girl was alone in this wild empty place…
At a magic wand wave Kharon was at her, wearing ski suit and sunglasses, hiding the most part of his face. He held ski poles and his feet were fixed in skis.
Then the stranger looked at him, trying to see his face through the mask, dreaming about the man to take off the mask. The man, after he had read her low and brute thoughts, was slowly taking off the mask with no embarrassment. The rays of the fading away sun were lighting up his white-snow smile. His smile was so languishing, charming and confident in its own perfection.
A second later the girl contemplates his amber eyes at which the light falls so elegantly, making them more attractive. Despite the demon’s face was lighted up by the many thousand years luminary his pupils were still dilated like as if he were in the darkness.
The girl couldn’t tear herself away from the man’s eyes, asked him to touch her. Without a second thought Kharon put the ski poles and in the twinkling of an eye the girl turned out to be in his severe but gentle arms… The demon of lust didn’t need too much to make his victim lose her mind.
He was quiet asking her for permission to get into her soul, promising to give something that she would never be able to forget and, oh, stupid, hyper excited girl was whispering him sacramental yes.
In a second the location was changed. The snow-white and cold Alps faded away, falling like walls and curtains in the theatre, on the horizon. The next unplanned location was moving towards them.
It was a fireplace, blazing with bright fire, pleasantly crackling over the dry branches. The high pile carpet, covered the floor at the fireplace, was so fluffy and soft. It was as white as snow covered a mountaintop.
The ebony floor reflected everything like a mirror…was faceless and empty. The girl was on the pile carpet, hands stretched out. Her eyes were closed, a smile jumped over her lips. A blissful sigh was provoked by the demon’s lips touched beneath her stomach, carefully pulling her panties with his hands…
Suddenly the girl just disappeared leaving the arms empty as if she had never been in. He clinched his fists, the anger captured him. A growl. A wrathful one. Then a powerful hit in the floor and the man turned out to be in reality in his Moscow flat. Kharon understood clearly what had happened and doubtlessly he was mad with it. It sometimes happened… when suddenly a victim woke up due to some external factors.
Kharon was sitting at the table. The grimace of anger and fury froze on his face. He had wasted his energy again and enjoyed the benefits of none.
The man took a deep sigh and was about to immerse into someone else’s dream, but he remembered about Victoria’s friend – Vasilisa. Many times she had sent him different messages. The demon dialled her and in couples of the longest beeps the girl answered the phone.
With no problems they agreed to meet… not far from Vasilisa’s home as the demon knew better than the girl, that in hour there would be no one at home and her mother’s big bed would be in their possession.
Only an obstacle was left and Kharon was thinking over how to resolve it and which one of the running through his head ideas was the best one.
With the graceful carriage the girl, wrapped in a scarf around her face, was walking towards him. Only her pearl grey eyes were looking at him. It was cold. There was no snow yet, but the weather was chilly and if there had been a possibility people would wrap themselves in blankets entirely and wander along the streets like resurgent mummies.
The girl’s eyes were burning with bright-yellow fire and passion and they didn’t just burn out but burnt to hell. Though Kharon couldn’t see her face but only her eyes he clearly knew the girl to be smiling and he knew the reason why she was smiling. As the demon could see all her dreams through as well as her vulgar thoughts and was ready to make them all come true… and it would cost her a pretty penny.
Vasilisa came up to the man. The distance between them was no more than fifty centimetres. They were silently looking into each other’s eyes. Kharon was glad that there was such a moment when people had no need to say and explain anything, they just knew for what reason they gathered at a certain place.
Kharon took Vasilisa’s hand, hidden in the mitten, made of Angora wool and pulled the girl to him.
‘I’m glad to see you… So much.’ He said and carefully kissed her temple, the only place where there was no scarf.
‘You’re the most mutual person in my life,’ Vasilisa answered him with a slight smile, hidden behind the cloth.
‘I know.’ He squeezed a little her hand and slyly looked at her.
‘How can you?’
‘The only organ is opened for the world, incapable of lying. It’s your eyes. To the great fortune I can read human eyes perfectly…’
‘You’ve not changed since we met last time.’
‘What does it mean?’
‘No behavioural problems have been diminished about you.’ Vasilisa smiled again.
Kharon’s paces slackened then he stopped finally, blocking the girl’s way. Vasilisa gave a shiver in front of a sudden obstacle appeared on her way. She confusedly winked her eyes, raised up her head a little, studying the demon’s serious face. Kharon was quite close to her, cutting the distance to barely existing. His hand slowly crawled through the air up and in a second with the finger he pulled off the scarf from Vasilisa’s face, showing her pale pink lips to the stepping over Moscow winter. In the twinkling of an eye the girl felt the man’s lips taste and warmth on hers, whose passion tore her apart. She kissed him back having thrown away the last picture of Victoria…
‘There’s nobody at home… Would you like to come?’ Vasya asked through the wild desire.
Kharon had been waiting for this certain question to pretend to be thinking for a while and then to agree random. It went to plan, to his plan. In ten minutes they were at the flat. Vasilisa was looking for keys jerkily, Kharon was behind her, embracing tenderly and pressing her to him.
The key clicked, the door was opened let the voluptuousness come in. Being in the hall Kharon quickly got rid of the clothes that prevented him from getting her body, and chaotically threw it on the floor. With no hurry he put away his own cover, provocatively undoing his small buttons, unlatching the trousers belt.
‘If I asked you what you would be ready to sacrifice to let me continue now, what would you answer?’ Kharon asked suddenly, gently kissing her neck.
‘I’d sacrifice my life… as I wouldn’t be able to bear such torture…’ the girl whispered with the closed eyes, digging her fingers into the demon’s back.
The man smiled and fell for her body that pulled him with for her whit her fragile but tenacious fingers. With the help of his skilful warmth, hands, tongues and the words he exorcised the arousal giving the long-awaited satisfaction instead.
He got everything he wanted to store his energy supplies but not less than fully. He needed one more maybe two women to get his best well-being.
‘What’ve we done…?’ he heard Vasilisa silently whisper.
The girl was lying curled up in bed. She felt the best in the world in a physically. She had never had such a perfect balance in her life. With every step of the second hand on the clock face made her soul be getting worse and worse. It was abominable. She was sick of herself.
‘Why?’ Kharon asked with obvious indifference. He looked at Vasilisa’s face and confused. She looked at nowhere, didn’t move, sighed quietly, a tear ran down her nose. ‘Why are you crying?’ the demon asked. ‘I don’t think you felt ill…’
‘No, it’s the other thing. The thing that was between us the best one has ever happened to me for my entire life… But we’ve betrayed Vic.’
The demon cocked his head to the left, recognizing the appearing mercy on the girl’s face. Being deprived of feelings, without knowing human emotions Kharon didn’t understand what he was blame for.
‘If you think we betrayed her then why did you let it happen? Why didn’t you think of her when you answered my call?’
‘I…’ Vasilisa was confused. ‘I…’
‘You wanted to get what your heart and mind desired for. You cared about nothing but your own yearning. Not a single second you were thinking of Victoria. So, drop it now. It’s adulteration of your feelings and mercy. You don’t believe none of them, trying to justify your so-called misstep. You’re saying so many ridiculous arguments which can’t be named arguments indeed. You’re crying. You’re crying because of your resentment against yourself as you’re not able to justify yourself. Then don’t do it! Nevertheless, people always surprise me. You are always in an attempt to destroy everything that can bring pleasure for you. You’re so stupid and ridiculous.’
Being unable to move Vasilisa silently listened to Kharon. Her tears dried having left flat traces after.
‘You,’ she whispered, ‘you literally took out my most ashamed thoughts. How did you get it?’
‘Coincidence.’ Suddenly Kharon realized that he had overdone with his guesses and forgotten completely that Vasilisa didn’t know about his demonic being.
‘I’ll never believe in it in my life!’ Vasya closed her eyes, dreaming to get under the blanket. Some nervousness and fear were penetrating under her skin. Anxiety was a pain in the neck. Kharon set the teeth and lowered his head. ‘What are you?’ she almost silently asked, looked at his eyes apprehensively. His eyes became burgundy colour ringed round the pupils which were getting blacker. They seemed to be pulsing, tearing the eye-balls apart, surrounded them with the flame of imperfection.
‘What a question!’ he pretended to be surprised, rubbing his forehead.
Vasilisa was silent. She felt afraid while she was looking at metamorphoses on the demon’s beautiful face. Suddenly it was like a cold wind. The sepulchral one. The cadaverous wind. Slowly it was chaining the girl, paralyzing and making her be stumped.
‘What am I?’ Kharon said quietly, stooping closer to the girl’s face. ‘I am the one who saw the earth be born. The one who saw you appear in his own likeness. I saw you spawn. I am the one who held Lucifer when he shook himself free from the wrath of his father. I am the one who with Lucifer raised the goblet of the absolute power. I am the watcher who knows no rest. I am the Sovereign Legionary Demon, the Lord of Lust, the Handler of Passion.’
‘You’re insane…’the girl stammered when she understood finally her fears was for some reason in particular. Without noticing Vic tried to get up from the bed in vain as she didn’t understand that her body was paralyzed having given all its energy to the demon. She wanted to run away as far as it was possible. She had to run without turning back and begged her heart not to jump out of the chest because of fear. It had to give a little more, give her a life, a possibility to hide and escape.
‘You’re scared of me now…’ the demon grabbed Vasilisa with a slight, almost lightning-quick move of his arm, looking intently at her eyes. ‘Is madness a synonym of what for you? Ah? Oh, you’re afraid of speaking but I can hear what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about a psychopath. A serial killer. No one has ever thought about me in this way… especially women. Don’t be afraid. I’m not gonna hurt you. You are the ones who hurt yourselves. Besides you’re not just a pawn in my arms…’
Vasilisa looked at his moving lips, listened to his dizzying voice and tried to lie to herself saying that everything wasn’t real but unreal.
‘Now, Vasilisa,’ Kharon looked up at her, ‘you’ll forget this conversation as this information isn’t the one you need to know. Look at me.’
The girl lifted up her glassy stare at Kharon, being in horror she realized that nothing in the world would be able to make her forget what had happened in her flat. By looking in the demon’s calm eyes Vasilisa didn’t know her recollections were being got out of her mind by parts and shattered then with no chance to be recovered. In a few minutes of silence and hypnotized looks Vasilisa realized that several seconds ago she had had the best sex with the most handsome man in her life. She also understood that she was smothered with envy Victoria. Vasilisa was preoccupied with the only one question why was Vic with him?
Kharon unnoticeably smiled, having read little cocky ideas that he had put into Vasilisa’s mind. He liked them more than a crying lady, immorally hiding behind suddenly appeared conscience to be more deserving in the man’s eyes because she was still irresistible in her own ones.
Victoria was drawing sketches. She tried. She had to finish a sketch of advertising product but every sketch of hers was ended with appearance of a man’s picture, who held a woman. The crazy strokes, you could say absolute absurd, drew the silhouettes on white sheet. They were sharp and self-confident. She didn’t even need to erase them a bit! Yes, they were a bit chaotic, sometimes you would hardly understand where the beginning and the end were. But every stroke was in its right place. They were muddled apart, but the picture was almost finished.
Vic didn’t understand what was with her head and hands. How was that possible? She told herself to draw a square and the pencil drew proportional bodies of a man and a woman instead of a geometrical figure. Her hand drew them like if it had been sure for its life that any square looked exactly like this.
Victoria drew and drew until she realized that rebellious limb was about to fall off due to tiredness. The girl looked up the pile of drawn papers. The only thing she knew for sure was that the man she had depicted was Kharon. Victoria had no doubt it for a second. Victoria couldn’t understand who the depicted woman was. She didn’t find herself in it.
