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.
‘No…’ Vic murmured, having noticed being accused with the worried spirit’s eyes.
‘What did you say?’ Gregory looked at the getting nervous girl questioningly.
‘Nothing.’ Vic saw the old woman step behind the back of her son. ‘Nothing,’ Vic repeated.
‘So, I’m glad to have such a specialist working for our company. By the middle of the next week my assistant will have arranged lunch out of office. Prepare the pilot product project with your sketches, put exactly them into project originals and present it to me. Are you ok with the deadline, Vic?’
‘Yes, I’ll manage it, Mr. Dogmanov.’ Victoria adjusted her hair trying not to look at the spirit’s eyes. ‘No problem.’
‘Ok, we should go back and… It’s been a pleasure to work with you personally.’
Victoria cracked a smile and hastened to the exit to turn away from the ghost.
Time started moving again into a hurry. Victoria opened her eyes. She was at her worktop. She had been holding the plastic pen. There was almost finished sketch on the screen. It was fifteen minutes past two.
Then other fail to understand happened. What was that? How did she have to feel about it? Victoria leaned back carelessly in her chair, trying to understand what was going on in her head. Would it ever come to an end? Suddenly it had dawned upon her: it was the very time! She had to run at the meeting… again…
The girl grabbed her laptop and ran to the appointed place, fortunately she had just been there. As she appeared at the restaurant Vic saw the same tables, faces, designs and waiters. Everything was the same she had seen already. Even the music was the same! The question “what the hell” didn’t leave her mind.
There was an identical table, the same cared-for look man whom she had already seen, waiting in great terror if all the other that had been in her vision, was going to happen.
To her horror every second of her prediction happened… even the foreseeable appearance of the old lady’s spirit, followed mannered Gregory whom, despite his high-status in the company, Vic didn’t like at all.
The only thing that didn’t come true was the label “The Devil’s bride”. That certainly calmed the girl down, obviously her subconsciousness took the decision to make fun of her.
After the meeting had been finished, Vic tried to subdue her jitters in her legs and hands, being happy that her vision and the reality were just a coincidence and that’s all.
Staying in the hall, Gregory looked at Vic with the smile while she was losing herself in the corners of her mind, had no idea how to behave.
‘Have a good day,’ he said.
‘Thanks… you too…’ Vic turned back and went to her work place.
‘The Devil’s bride…’
The girl stopped dead. Having turned around she saw in the lobby the same old woman’s ghost. It stayed and intently looked at scared Victoria.
‘What did you say?’ Vic asked out of foolishness.
The old woman silently raised her hand and wagged her finger at Vic after she disappeared.
Vic was paralyzed. For the whole time of being with the demon she had got over that she could always see something or someone other couldn’t. She didn’t know what exactly she saw – spirits, ghosts or something unknown. But the girl couldn’t get over the fact that those guys started speaking with her and not just speaking but labelling her.
‘Kharon,’ she whispered on the phone after she had heard the man’s voice. ‘Meet me at 6.30 near Barrikadnaya metro station.’
‘Your voice is very odd, dear.’ The demon said puzzled.
‘It is probably, I need to talk to you.’
‘Oh, why? I’ve never had any serious talk before. How am I supposed to react? Wait, keep silence. A serious talk… Well. The word serious doesn’t cause any positive thoughts if to put it logically. Hey, Vic, what’ve I done?’
Despite of her being in panic, Vic smiled. Guessing Kharon distracted her from her thoughts of the ill-fated old woman.
‘You haven’t. That’s not so bad. Just meet me, ok?’
‘As you wish. How do you feel, love?’
‘Love?’ Vic smiled again.
‘You’re so…like me, asking about every word I tell.’ Kharon smiled, too. ‘I got you. At 6.30 near Barrykadnaya metro station. I bet I’ll guess the carriage you’re gonna be in.’
‘Try your best.’ Vic almost forgot about the accident at work.
The memories were destroyed with the pictures of Kharon’s face. His nice smile and gentle gaze conduced the girl’s sooner rehabilitation.
Vic heard the phone hang up, grinned and already looking forward to meeting.
At that time Kharon was walking along the city, revelling in the view of streets and beautiful women, persistently collecting all information about human behaviour. Ideally curiosity made him flirt with girls, using all conceivable and inconceivable tricks to see what would happen next. He was interested in reading their minds and he liked to listen to their voiced answers. He had fun.
“By accident” he stepped on some girl’s foot, stumbled and almost fell. She was about to attack the awkward man, say him many bad words. But Kharon started twittering in Spanish that he was so sorry to be so an awkward not to notice the girl while he had been seeing the sight of Bolshoy Theatre vault.
The girl immediately smiled, having forgotten about her dirty suede shoe. Kharon went on saying sorry in bad Russian. Of course, his foreign splendid accent, innocent eyes, beauty of his face played its role.
The next conclusion was drawn: Russian women weren’t so angry as they wanted to look like. Their mean faces very fast turned into bright smile with sincerity and they were already ready to help. Kharon saw it better than any other men. The sexual energy he had, charmed women when they were awakened.
To other couple, that had drawn the demon’s attention with its passionate kisses in the middle of Alexandrovsky Sad, Kharon said that he could predict everything. He turned into a blind old man, took the girl by the hand and whispered in a hoarse voice:
‘The wedding is on 10th of October.’ Looking at nowhere, strongly holding her hand, the demon was reading her mind. ‘You’re waiting for the wedding. Everything is bought. He’s your fiancé. But he has a mistress already.’
The man got pale and contradicted, banishing the old man from his sight not to let him talk nonsense. The demon insidiously smiled, his eyes flashed which had nothing in common with old age and kept on telling some things that nobody could have known but the couple themselves.
Indeed, the tear-stained girl punched him with the thorn roses in the face, threw away the ring and ran home in tears.
‘You, freakish old grumbler…’ he hissed, clenching his fists.
‘You’re gonna be an impotent in a year, young man,’ the demon predicted in a sepulchral voice.
Having had fun with the passer-by Kharon went down in metro as crowded as a can with sprats. People went home, tried to smile, pretend they were fun and glad the day was over. By the way they didn’t forget to shout at others, having wolf-looks, hated them.
When the carriage was at Kuznetsky Most a great crowd invaded into and Kharon turned to be almost at the very corner. There was a nice-looking girl before him, and she looked at everything around with understanding in her eyes. Her shoes were stepped on, someone pushed her, but she thought that it was ok, none of those were on purpose.
The demon was too close to her and without hesitation staring at her face. It had sadness and sorrow a bit and some desperation. Kharon saw her eyelashes freeze, her eyes were staring ahead at his chest.
