Nightmarish Sacrifice (Cardew) (14 page)

                                          The utter unbroken silence was more appalling than any ominous noise, than the loudest yells of anguish, than the most piercing screaming...

             
Dead silence.

             
Literally dead.

             
Wearing the familiar long scarlet dress again, I was wandering inside an unknown graveyard where I could swear that I had never been in my awakened state, and the ghostly pale moon was spreading the translucent veils of mystery above the land as though just to make the atmosphere more spooky and impressive. The gravestones were dark, harshly granite, and looked somehow shabby, and the weeds growing freely around were hinting that the cemetery was taken only very basic care of.

             
Understandable – if all its visitors were only going there in their nightmares, just like I had...

             
The land felt unpleasantly wet and slimy under my bare feet, and the icy hostile breeze was making me shiver with terror as well as with cold, showing me clearly that no mortals were welcome in that world of the resting dead.

             
No living creatures...

             
Me in particular.

             
I bit my lips and hurried forwards; this time I was completely aware that I was into one of the utterly realistic visions – and its deadened stillness was frightening me more than the frantic desperate action in the one with the bloody ritual I had been living in a fortnight ago.

             
Because this time I could sense that the doomed victim was me...

             
The place wouldn’t have been so genuinely inspiring with horror if it wasn’t for the distorted silhouettes of the low trees and bushes around and the miry soil that was giving me the chilly impression that the centuries-ago-buried coffins were floating freely under the surface and could spring sharply in sight, without a warning, and passionately grasp me into their dark depths which I would never leave after that. The dusty overcast skies having the colour of the tombs around were mercilessly pressing me towards the ground, and I was feeling as though the dead motionless air itself had clasped me in such a tight cruel embrace that I couldn’t take even a single breath, and it was trying to suffocate me in its own death, to grip strongly on me and drown me in itself, once and forever.

             
As though the graveyard was thirsty for some fresh blood...

             
For my fresh blood.

             
I pinned my nails into my palms not to scream, and decisively went on forward; instincts whose existence I had never suspected were leading me into a secret direction, so I decided that I most probably was on an unrealized mission in that thrilling place – and my journey around the graves would be over as soon as I fulfilled what I was supposed to…

             
Oh gods, why did it have to be so unbearably cold?... No, not that the temperatures were so low – my soul itself was helplessly freezing inside me, as though I had been gently brushed by the black transparent wings of Death, and that touch had left me almost unconscious...

             
Was I alive at all?...

             
The sinister darkened moonbeams were scattering around not soft radiance but ill-boding restless shadows – the only living element around the ominous places of eternal rest, and – as there was no path to follow in the irrationally spread labyrinth of the graves, I was stepping on them almost every time my feet were touching the land. Realizing this only after having done it, I was shuddering with superstitious fear of the karmic revenge of the souls haunting that place, who had left their empty tombs so as to stalk behind me and silently await for the right moment to unexpectedly attack me and thus effortlessly make me one of their blood-frosting tribe to punish me for my unintentional desecration of their burial ground.

             
Startled by a sudden – and possibly imaginary – noise behind me, I rushed forward while casting a glimpse over my shoulder, and thus I didn’t realize that I was falling until I found myself lying on the land, dull and unpleasantly warm ache thudding strongly at the right side of my forehead.

             
I had tripped against a fallen gravestone and had collapsed onto it, my head hitting against its edge and my left elbow sinking a whole inch into the friable moist soil. Appalled, I hurried to rise on my knees, and pressed my hand to the pulsating wound...

             
Several drops of blood squeezed from between my fingers and heavily dropped onto the coarse surface of the granite in a truly hypnotic merge of red and gray, and I intuitively followed them with my eyes – the words engraved onto the dull colourless stone brutally grabbed my attention and I gasped, astonished by the sight without even realizing what about it had stricken me so deeply.

             
‘May your soul find peace, beloved Odda.’

             
And the years of her birth and death...

             
It was exactly that which made me come to my senses and stare, and my heart leaped with horror, this time for a rational reason.

             
This girl Odda had died just three years ago – at the age of only sixteen...

             
Nevertheless, it was not merely the tragedy of that young death which shocked me – it was an ominous coincidence...

             
The dead girl was born in the same year as me – so, had she survived till the moment which was current for me, she would have been nineteen...

             
Just as old as I was.

             
A feeling I couldn’t name – regret, unfounded guilt, and compassionate sorrow into a stifling melancholic fusion – conquered me instantly, and I felt as though a thousand of heavy burdens were hanging on my heart, preventing it from beating evenly, dragging it to stop...

             
And they didn’t disappear even when I woke up in the next moment.

             
The room was merging into blackness in front of my eyes, and all the recollections from the nightmare were crowding together inside my mind, rendering me uneasy.

             
And so horrified...

             
Odda, I repeated the name into my consciousness, desperately searching for any associations that could hint me what that sinister dream had meant.

             
Odda...

             
Had I ever met such a person in my life?

             
No, I was sure in that – there was no Odda among my acquaintances.

             
Then maybe it was the year of death that mattered?

             
Or...

             
The one of birth...

             
Exhausted, I jumped out of the bed, grabbed the first pen that came in sight, and cast a frenzied look around: the small white eraser on the desk seemed suitable enough an object, so I clutched it and quickly scribbled the rune of protection on its smooth surface.

             
“Keep me safe! –” I whispered desperately while furiously repeating the lines of the sign again and again. “Save me –”

             
The pen was cutting sharply into the rubber, leaving a wide clear trace behind, and the rune was sinking more and more deeply into the soft matter, inside the heart of the improvised amulet itself. My hands feverishly removed the small pieces of material that had fallen out of the engraving, and I stared into the ancient sign as though it was my last chance of survival.

             
And maybe it really was...

             
With a silent moan, I strongly pressed the eraser with the sacral symbol in my cupped hand, and coiled up into the bed again, wrapping myself into the cold blanket and closing my eyes decisively; the presence of the talisman wasn’t making me feel safer, but somehow was creating in me the impression that I was not so sinisterly alone anymore.

             
“Protect me –” I silently pleaded with it, unsure if it could hear me in some unknown mystifying ways; my hand was trembling around it with weakness I was forcing myself to overcome, but my voice trembled as I managed to utter almost inaudibly, “I just... hope it’s not too late –”

             
But no answer followed.

                                          The ink of the rune had smeared all over my palm when I woke up in the same position in which I had rested to fall asleep after making the extempore amulet of protection. My whole body felt stiff, like I hadn’t slept for weeks, but I managed to get ready in time not to be late for my classes which thankfully were to occupy my whole day till the late afternoon.

             
I didn’t want any free hours this time – I was even afraid of such a possibility, as it would leave me enough moments to think...

             
And thinking could only make me more terrified.

             
I hadn’t decided how to treat Cardew either and, contradicting my own conclusions, appreciated the chance to reason over his behaviour while I was getting to the lecture hall; strange or explainable, but the small eraser in my pocket was making me feel somehow more secure, as if the rune cut into it was really there to protect me.

             
But in fact, wasn’t it?...

             
“Freya!” Cardew’s voice called gently from behind my back, and I stopped in place without turning in his direction.

             
The day had passed tediously as I had been tense all the time while expecting him to appear – and he did it exactly in the right moment, when all my classes had just finished – it was more than logical that he would look for me precisely then, perfectly informed about my schedule as he was, but still I startled.

             
“Freya –” the boy repeated caressingly and stopped in front of me to gaze keenly into my face; the sharp hurried sounds of his footsteps had made me aware that he had been running, but that hadn’t got his breathing uneven.

             
I glared at him with perceptible hostility, but when I met his eyes, I realized that I wasn’t angry with him anymore – not at all, however embarrassing that felt for my pride; the cloudy reflected light of the gray skies above was beautifully refracting into the rainy crimson of his hair into millions of silvery nuances, his stare lively and unusually mild on mine as he smiled and bent closer to me with a promising gesture.

             
I didn’t move in the first moment and Cardew took that as a sign of silent concord; a rather relieved, grateful smile glided on his face, his hand tenderly rested on my neck as he bent forward for a kiss, and his thumb barely perceptibly passed over my lips in a thrilling caress while he was lowering above me...

             
But I slightly bit into his fingertip and he instinctively drew his hand back as though I was a rabid animal, his other palm still lingering on my neck.

             
“You kissed me once and now you feel as if you’ve got some special kind of licence to do it whenever you want?” I drove my intonation enraged as I wanted to show him clearly how little I had liked his displays of physical power the night before.

             
Cardew didn’t get embarrassed and pretended that he was amused, but there was no joy in the depths of his darkening eyes – despite the smiling face, his pupils weren’t wide enough to express inner contentment; I suppressed a victorious smile, proud that I had revealed him by that physiological reaction he wasn’t able to suppress.

             
“We can make a schedule if you insist,” Cardew joked with a confident wink. “Although it should be sweeter if it happens naturally, whenever we both want it... Like yesterday –”

             
I sharply tossed my hair behind the shoulders just to look furious; what a meaningless struggle, I thought, like a quarrel on stage – neither of us was really motivated to fight but just to prove something the other didn’t doubt in... the whole of it made no sense at all, as there was not even audience to enjoy the play.

             
Cardew’s smile looked absolutely sincere but I could sense that he didn’t feel like smiling; the irritation in my mood was obviously having its effect on his contentment, and that made me smirk on the inside – I enjoyed the idea that I was capable of playing with his feelings – really slightly, but still for real – even though he would never confess it.

             
“Well –” he started a bit less confidently than usually and I suppressed an outburst of giggle of pure pride. “The way in which you kissed me back left me with the impression that you quite enjoyed it –”

             
“I did,” I announced with a severe tone which was misleadingly hinting of the opposite. “But then you tried to dominate over me!”

             
“Oh –” Cardew played innocent and I placed my right arm akimbo to infuse more arrogance into my posture as he carried on, “I just wanted to indulge you, lovely –”

             
“Or to indulge in me,” I corrected him coldly and he smiled at the pun.

             
“I didn’t want to offend you,” blinking naively with his strangely light-gray eyes, he smiled angelically again, as if to tempt me to relent. “Can I make up for it if I take you for a coffee?”

             
“You can try,” I shrugged generously and he reached his hand for mine; the last traces of fury had disappeared from me with the darkness of the past night and I was already feeling relaxed and safe – as though there was something special in Cardew’s presence that was making me forget my fears of all outer factors, including him – like he was comforting me on a subconscious level.

             
Or deluding me...

             
“You are right,” Cardew pronounced it quietly but confidently and I turned my head towards him.

             
He had taken me to my favourite cafe, chosen the quiet isolated corner in it which I liked the most, and was sitting right beside me, not too close, but still, close enough to hold my hand and lightly fondle it without being too insolent.

             
“In most cases I am right,” I cast him a slant joking glance to let him know that I was into my usual mood again and the tantrum was over. “But how did you reach this brilliant deduction? I’m very curious –”

             
Cardew chuckled and slowly bent towards me as if to warn me of his intentions and thus to prevent himself from being pushed away again; the crystal-clear reminiscence of his kiss which had melted over my lips the night before was so elating that I didn’t look away from his eyes so as to let him see it there.

             
However, Cardew didn’t touch my lips again: his kiss brushed down my neck and lingered around the shoulder, his hair faintly caressing my arm all the way down. I closed my eyes for a moment to fully relish the intoxicating softness of his lips against my skin, then glanced at him slantwise and a bit mischievously, and my fingers ran down the line of his jaw to drag his face closer to mine.

             
“I really was rather rude yesterday –” he whispered tenderly, taking my palm in his cupped hands like I needed consolation, and descending so close to my lips that we were almost touching, and this position was making it difficult for me to concentrate on the actual meaning of his words. “Will you forgive me, lovely beauty?”

             
And, without waiting for a verbal answer, Cardew bent enough to finally kiss me on the lips, the lightness and vigour of his movements setting me ablaze into brisk airy flames.

             
Gods, I couldn’t deny that he was damn perfect at apologizing!

             
“Maybe I can forgive you –” I mock-hesitated when his mouth moved off mine, and I pressed my teeth to my lower lip as if to almost physically engrave the memory in myself. “But I’m tempted not to, as I see how tender you can be when you’re sorry –”

             
Cardew smiled and fondled my cheek lightly, an angelic expression on his flawlessly handsome face; the role of the naive boy was one I wasn’t used to seeing him in, but that wasn’t lessening from the persuasiveness with which he was playing it.

             
“Let’s enter into a contract then,” he offered solemnly and I giggled. “You will forgive me, and all evening I will act as though you haven’t –”

             
“I accept, it’s a curious deal – pretty weird but too tempting to be declined,” I assessed with contentment, grinned at him, and rested my hand on his palm, my fingers thrusting among his. “I’m not used to you being the good guy, and perhaps this will confuse me.”

             
Cardew raised his brow in a mystifying way.

             
“I can be anything – and nothing, and everything at the same time,” he gave me a wink, and in just several seconds, while I was staring at him with amazement, a dozen expressions passed over his face – completely different and crisp shades of extreme anger, ultimate sadness, and joy; a blink of mine and he was normal again – or, at least, his features were calm as before. “It all depends on the role I am in.”

             
I gave him a smile but didn’t answer; the philosophical question of losing your true identity – assuming that it existed at all – for the sake of becoming what someone else – or your own ambitions – urge you to be, struck me deeply and started circling wildly inside my mind and torturing me, but a single glimpse at Cardew reassured me that he wouldn’t give a direct answer to such a question, even if it was me who had asked it.

             
In fact, especially if it was me...

             
There was something about the appearance of total invincibility Cardew was aiming at which I had noticed – he was striving to look strong at any cost and in every situation, not to yield or let another one defeat him, as if such an overthrow would be the worst failure possible.

             
To be strong – and not necessarily to win: I had realized that he was willing to simply give me what I wanted and exactly in the way I wished for it even if it was not in his plans, as long as I showed that I was considering him stronger than me, and was accepting his favour as a generous grant, not a sign of backing down.

             
Of course, most people were generally motivated not to lose, but for Cardew being the strongest one was a painful need, not a capricious desire, and the more time I was spending with him, the more reassured in this I was becoming. Those secret conclusions of mine were making me think of that boy as either of a heartless beast, or of a normal person hiding his mortality behind a shield of invulnerability, as though being just an ordinary human was an unforgivable flaw.

             
Nonetheless, I wasn’t asking him anything about that – whichever case was closer to the truth, I doubted that he would feel comfortable speaking about his emotions – so I was left in the dark of ignorance, alone with my hypotheses.

             
And still, I couldn’t help wondering...

             
Had Cardew chosen acting just because of his amazing innate talent, or did he have other reasons to hide behind the masks of various characters? Was it because he had no ability to feel and thus pretending was easy for him, or he had done it as he wanted to hide his real feelings from everybody?...

             
Or could acting be his secret way to keep in touch with the ‘real’ life he was not feeling a part of, with the world of ordinary human beings he could not allow himself to belong to – could this acknowledged pretending be his only chance to at least fake the emotions he could otherwise only witness from aside, as they were somehow unexplainably suppressed inside him?...

             
Would I ever know the answer?

             
And did Cardew himself know it?...

             
Right then, I could not know this either...

             
The silence we were sitting in was disarmingly pleasing and warm, the light romantically dimmed, and I had involuntarily cuddled closer to Cardew than before, resting onto his chest and playing with his metal tablet with the rune-based symbol, but he didn’t seem to mind that, as he had wrapped me in a loose hug and was staying motionless to make me comfortable. Maybe my relaxed pose – as though I was in need of his protection – was making him feel stronger, I assumed, but, unlike usually, this time I didn’t mind simply enjoying his closeness and not paying attention to how he would interpret my behaviour.