At the beginning Victoria was uncomfortable when she met spirits and when they smiled walking towards her, it was getting worse.
At times the girl felt sorry for them. Once when Vic was walking about the Old Moscow, she saw a girl in a hurry and there was a spirit of her mother behind, trying to braid her hair in the wind. Here it was rushing to the girl, screaming something with its voiceless mouth, as it wanted to stop merciless time.
Seeing those pictures was very uncomfortable. Many times Victoria saw lovers parted by death itself. They shed bitter tears, raking up memories, pulling out the pain on the surface. But the beloved was near! He was always near, touched her hands, stroked the head, smiled. But nobody could see and feel him. There was pain again.
It was worse when a soul in love with its beloved was following him in the rear, but he was already touching a new living person’s hands, making himself love again. The spirit suffered. It remembered very well how it was and knew better, how it could have been, and it couldn’t understand why all it happened. Why didn’t anyone feel his touches? Why didn’t anyone kiss him back? He busted his guts, yelling into the living person’s ears about fading away love again.
Victoria’s heart was blowing up because of those visions. What a cruel substance, maybe, material, ruled the world if some people were doomed to suffer even after their death? Sufferings that were caused by woe and incomprehension. Some of spirits didn’t understand that they were spirits, that they were dead. In every way they tried to draw attention to themselves of the person who was important for them. But nobody, nobody noticed them. When someone like Victoria saw them, they tried to pass by with their eyes locked on the ground. Who would like the brand of insane person? Keep all your visions to yourself.
Grief wiped out all those who finally understood that they had been parted. Forever. The grief didn’t look like that which living people could feel to other ones. It was stronger, more painful and poor souls were imprisoned by forcible grief.
Victoria often asked herself why she could see it all. Why did she have to see all those sufferings and be unable absolutely to help anyone? Because of her own inability she was overcame with horror. She had to close her eyes or stoop her head, say to herself that she saw nothing, heard nothing and she didn’t care at all. She had to do what others did – just pass by. She had to leave the agony unnoticed in the middle of the great crowd. Victoria said nothing about spirits and ghost to anyone. She didn’t tell about it even to Kharon. Nobody had to know that she was insane.
A month passed after the deal was concluded. If there hadn’t been spirits, her happiness would have been unlimited.
Kharon studied to be a human, live like a human, tried to understand what to feel meant and what exactly he had to feel.
The jealousy issue was still opened: Victoria kept silence, the demon carefully waited until the time was ripe.
While Vic was at work Kharon studied people. He followed them everywhere, listening to every sigh and word said to anyone. He followed couples creepingly and got more and more surprised with speckled diversity of feelings. They were able to love, and it was important information for Kharon. His mind tried to understand how people loved. One thing was determinate absolutely: there was such couple whose feelings were the same. Someone loved too much to rave about his beloved and there was only his image before the eyes. The image was unchangeable and static. It stood to give a small chance, thin hope to look at the image in own subconsciousness. How strong the heart was beating! No. It was shaking and filling with life when the beloved appeared in life. The air stated walking inside the body, breaking up the breath. Pupils were madly black, dilated. They sucked into the face like big leeches. They sucked in, pulling out the image to keep it in memory. Adrenalin was injected into blood; a shudder ran over the body. Was it fear? No, it wasn’t. That was love. It had gentle touches, almost impalpable but penetrated straight soul, fondling it, desirous to touch it. And the beloved allowed to touch his soul.
Kharon knew Victoria to feel all of those. Almost a month of his own being with people, he finally understood why Victoria had done that crazy thing, why she’d been looking for meeting with Lucifer and what for or whom for she had sold her soul. She loved him. It buttered him up. Too much. It was the first time in his life. It was usual thing for him when women wanted more. But there was nothing about love but lust. Victoria…
Almost every night with scandals with her mother, Victoria stayed with Kharon. Every night his fingers barely touched her skin, her body, ran through her hair, unbuttoned clothes… His lips kissed her hands and body. But there was nothing serious between them.
Victoria fell asleep being embraced by him, broke down with love and passion but there was nothing more. Kharon didn’t even think that something was going to happen, but for sure he liked being loved for nothing. He was scared because of a thought what could happen to the girl’s mind when they used the bed finally not only in frames of a place where they could sleep. Sometimes he thought in what way his true face would change the girl’s love.
Kharon saw other couples in streets. There he and she hated each other. They were ready to kill, destroy but they couldn’t live without each other. He was absolutely surprised by such couples’ existence. None of them were neither demons nor angels but they had so powerful energy and invincible spirits. Maybe sly spirits deprived them from being together without scandals.
The relations with Victoria were far from the standards, fortunately. The girl was too complaisant and ready to do whatever the demon asked. She idealized and worshiped him. Kharon sometimes thought that if he had asked her to jump from a roof of a skyscraper for him, she would do it with no thinking.
Victoria texted Kharon to introduce him to Olga Vladimirovna and they both would be waiting for him at 8 pm at her place. For a long time Kharon was trying to find out why she needed it, but he wasn’t capable of reading her mind on the phone. That’s why he was on time before the door, contemplating the doorbell. He wasn’t scared but he didn’t get used to it. The demon could see through the walls Victoria putting on, combing her hair, her mother sitting at the table. Without coming into the flat he had already known that Olga Vladimirovna didn’t like an idea of her daughter.
As soon as Kharon heard the idea in the woman’s mind he immediately switched over her daughter, greedily picking her thoughts to seek for the idea. But there was nothing.
In thought the man came back into Olga Vladimirovna’s mind and heard again “Bad idea, Victoria, very bad”. Kharon frowned. Instinctively he turned out to be in Victoria’s mind, having immersed inside fully. He was looking for the idea. Demons had an amazing vice – excessive curiosity. But a new disappointment befell him again. There was no idea in Victoria’s mind. Being already irritated Kharon placed his hands at the door, burning through the erected obstacle by humans with his eyes, he immersed into Olga Vladimirovna’s mind. “What an idiotism, Vic… with your ideas. To leave your mother for a man… I don’t like it.” Kharon stepped back from the door and smirked. That was the idea Victoria glimmered. The demon was satisfied after he had found out everything that he had wanted to. He pressed the doorbell.
Suddenly Olga Vladimirovna gave a jump on the chair. Vic ran out of the room, zipping the shorts. Kharon had already heard her heart madly beating, joy being reborn into an indescribable admire, her soul wanted with awe to see the demon.
The door was opened, Victoria turned out to be in the beloved man’s embrace. She closed her eyes, basking on his shoulder and tenderly whispered: “It’s been a long since we saw each other last time. How much I missed you!”
‘It’s been a long?’ Kharon smiled, firmly embracing the girl, looking through the walls at Olga Vladimirovna’s mean face. ‘Oh, dear, what do you know about the infinity? We were together last evening at the very place saying good-buy each other, embracing. It was 18 hours 10 minutes and 35seconds ago. 18 hours is not an infinity, trust me.’
Victoria was listening to Kharon’s sentimental whisper and scarcely suppressed her admire and happiness. What could she know about infinity? What could he know about infinity being unable to love?
‘It is, actually. Even a second without you is infinity. Come in.’
Kharon