‘Seafood one,’ he said with no breaking his gaze from her olive eyes, ‘Add more cheese.’
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