by R. Twine
The walls of the room disappeared, reanimated creatures filled the space; a strange buzzing was hanging in the air. The beast was staring unblinkingly at me from far away. I was in the parallel world. A mute witness of the faraway past…
The pages were turning by themselves now. I saw my life – the countdown of years began. My present, my youth, childhood, babyhood, birth… Heavenly and Dark worlds were constantly accompanying me throughout all my life.
Suddenly a newborn girl with green eyes appeared; there was a young woman by her side – the one the Archangel had given his emerald to. Then the picture changed: this woman was lying in Satanail’s arms; he was in the guise now familiar to me. I watched the couple engaged in mutual caresses thinking: “Who is this man? Is it Satanail himself or a man with Satanail’s appearance?” They were making love and it was evident that the girl had lost her head completely: her blurry eyes were fixed on the man; she was drowning in her passion without seeing anything around her. I felt ill at ease. I found it very hard to believe it was really me.
Another episode appeared. A girl with her eyes wet with tears was standing on a stool with a noose around her neck. The man she was in love with had died, and she decided to follow suit. Satanail bewitched his victim and was nudging her towards suicide in order to take hold of her soul. The girl raised her hands to the sky, saying “My darling, soon we’ll be together,” and jumped off the stool. At the very same moment the Archangel suddenly appeared and cut the rope in half with a precise swing of his sword. The girl collapsed on the floor convulsively loosening the noose with her hands and gasping for air.
The Archangel and Satanail crossed their swords: the battle was fierce and long. But as soon as the girl realized she’d been possessed by the devil himself the scales fell from her eyes… The defeated Satanail silently left the battlefield.
The Archangel helped the girl up saying: ‘Stop doing this! Don’t give your soul to Satanail, don’t kill yourself! If you had committed suicide you wouldn’t have been able to get where you initially came from. Satanail is capable of manipulating people through their body and soul. And oftentimes the man he fools into his trap is incapable of seeing or understanding anything. His common sense is somewhere far away and when it tries to warn man of the danger, he opts to do anything to put down this weak forewarning voice…’
There’s an invisible connection between The Book of Lives and The Book of Shadows: one of them can be filled in by the other; there’s a constant exchange going on between them by mutual agreement of the two Kingdoms. Some secrets from Satanail’s Kingdom would pass into The Book of Lives while the latter in its turn would transfer a portion of its information to The Book of Shadows. Satanail knew a lot of what the Archangel knew; all events were closely connected with each other, and the two most powerful Angels would always cross paths thus always staying not far away from each other. But there were blank pages, too, in these books. In The Book of Shadows they could hold a danger or a secret while in The Book of Lives they let man know that he is free to make his choice…
Sheer coincidence? “Nothing happens by chance,” Phil’s words suddenly came back to me.
The pages rustled again. I was no longer able to reestablish the chain of events, everything got tangled up; there was only one thing I knew for sure: I was watching yet another of my incarnations.
Another woman appeared; she was as beautiful as the previous one: her raven black hair was tied up with a golden band and cascaded down to her waist; her green eyes with a slight inward slant had an authoritative look in them. She was dressed in long magnificent robes, had a Queen’s crown upon her head and her neck was adorned with an exquisite and precious necklace. She walked graciously down the long corridor, turned into a big lavishly decorated hall and made for the altar. There she took off all of her clothes and began uttering some spells while censing a statue. This was the statue of the Black Angel clad in a long tunic. He was standing on a pedestal with his wings unfolded. Small horns were showing through his wavy hair, the look of his stony eyes could scare the wits out of anyone, in his hand he was holding a spear. The woman came to a goblet near the altar, put her hands into the pool of liquid and, rolling her eyes with pleasure, started oiling her body with a red unction. The woman’s lips were constantly moving – apparently, she was calling someone. A man in a black cloak appeared; he came to the woman from behind and wrapped his arms around her perfect body. She smiled and closed her eyes in anticipation of delight…
“Apparently, The Book of Shadows opened to me only what I was supposed to learn about,” I thought, closing the tome. The beast and the flying creatures disappeared. I wasn’t prepared to admit to myself that in all of my incarnations, I myself was looking forward to meeting Satanail, the evil genius… Once man came to know the power of temptation, he kept returning to it over and over again… But can’t these images be just the product of my dark fantasies? The quintessence of something I don’t even know myself? I shook my head driving the gloom away, slid the shelf with a book back into its place and left the room.
Michael was sitting in an armchair with his head lowered on his chest. My heart skipped a beat. I rushed to him and started shaking him violently by the shoulders. Gripped with fear, I began shouting. ‘Michael! Wake up! Open your eyes!’
‘What’s the matter?!’ he cried out, frightened, and jumped to his feet.
‘Phew! Thank God! You were just asleep.’ I gave a sigh of relief. My nerves were strained to the limit. “I thought something bad had happened to you, Michael. You were sitting in such an unnatural pose! I got awfully scared…’
‘Don’t worry, Miriam. I didn’t mean to scare you. I haven’t gotten very much sleep over the past few days, so I passed out.’
‘I’m sorry, Michael. I must be tired myself.’
‘Stay here for the night, Miriam. It’s already late, there’s enough room for you in the house. I’ll make a bed for you in the guest room,’ he offered.
‘I don’t mind. Thank you, Michael. Indeed, I don’t feel like going anywhere now,’ I replied.
‘Would you mind having some tea? There must be a box somewhere in the kitchen where my father used to keep his herbal tea - it is excellent for soothing your nerves,’ said Michael making for the kitchen.
I sat by the table watching Michael making tea. The herbs gave off a divine aroma. Everything Michael touched seemed perfect to me: he created around himself an aura of miracle.
‘We had quite a day, didn’t we, Miriam?’ Michael looked over his shoulder and smiled.
‘If you don’t mind, may I ask you what you do for a living, Michael?’ I enquired, to keep the conversation going.
‘No, I don’t mind. I work in telecoms.’
‘Are you going to stay on in Paris or move over here now?’
‘I don’t know. Ten years ago I left my home trying to get away from my father, as far as I could, and now that he’s gone I’m facing the choice of whether it is worthwhile to change my life again or not…’ Michael said, stirring the tea thoughtfully with a small spoon. ‘Frankly speaking, I regret my breaking away from him. He suffered a lot as a result of this drastic step of mine: he was sending me letters asking me to forgive him… But I behaved like a foolish boy! It’s only now that I realized how much he loved me. And it wasn’t his fault that we were so different. I shouldn’t have left him all alone just because of my principles.’
‘Don't be so hard on yourself, Michael. We can’t undo the past. Every one of us has his own regrets. We all tend to make mistakes,’ I said.
‘Maybe you’re right, Miriam. Come along with me, I’ll show you the guest room.’
Overburdened by the events of the day, I virtually collapsed on the bed. But thoughts about Michael wouldn’t let me fall asleep – he was everywhere, the whole house seemed to be imbued with his presence. “Cut it out! Quit thinking about him!” I said to myself and went to take a shower. Warm water washed away my worries, and my body relaxed somewhat. A slight
euphoria came over me; my hands involuntarily began caressing my groin, helping the strong jets of water put down the fire already spreading there. Pleasant sensations made me dizzy; my skin became electrified, with every touch of my fingers a sweet current went through me from head to toe. My body was living its own life, that it alone was capable of understanding. There was no place left in it for common sense. The fire within me kept on spreading. I was no longer in control of myself; I became a puppet in the clutches of my passion. Leaving my wet footprints on the floor, I left the bathroom and went to the opposite part of the house where Michael’s bedroom was.
The bed was empty but there were muffled sounds of falling water coming from behind the bathroom door. Without a moment’s hesitation I turned the doorknob and went inside. Standing behind the steamy glass of the shower doors was Michael, jets of water washing his magnificent body. I came up to him, embraced him from behind and whispered.
‘Take me, Michael. I want you.’
He turned round; his eyes momentarily became wide with astonishment, but then he, without a moment’s hesitation, drew me to himself and started covering my body with kisses. His hard flesh stuck into my belly. We went wild with desire. There was too little room in the shower for such a storm of passion. Michael took me in his arms and carried me to the bed. And there I went tumbling down into a flaming abyss...
Demons were dancing their vicious dance around me while giving out shouts of malicious joy. They were raising their hands, rejoicing loudly, shaking their bodies to a mad rhythm, the multitude of ornaments hanging around their necks tinkling. This hellish circle dance was gradually closing in on me, overshadowing the real world; evil spirits were dancing increasingly fast while the tinkling of their ornaments turned into an incessant rumble. The Demon of Passion bared his yellow teeth triumphantly in his constant attempts to look me in the face. Suddenly the wild dance stopped, and the demons started to copulate mimicking what I was doing…
‘Miiiiiiiiriam, Miiiiiiiriam!’ they yelled, reaching out for me with their repulsive hands.
I felt like I had been drugged; I couldn’t stop. I was perfectly aware of what was going on but was unable to switch back to reality. I was greedy and wild in lovemaking, I wanted it to go on forever; multiple orgasms were making me crazy.
Suddenly someone’s cold hands touched my back – and in a moment I came to my senses. The demons were still surrounding my bed so I yelled at them:
‘Get the hell out of here! Michael! Drive them away!’
I jumped out of bed and started waving my hands, wildly trying to drive the obsessive image away.
‘Who do you want me to drive away, Miriam?’ Michael asked, clearly spooked. ‘There’s nobody here but you and me. What happened to you?’
I calmed down quickly and looked around: indeed, there was nobody in the room.
‘I’m sorry, Michael,’ I said, trying to sound poised. ‘I must have been hallucinating. It happens to me sometimes.’
I went back to the bed, curled up by Michael’s side and fell asleep immediately.
A terrible headache was tearing my head apart, my body was aching; there was an acidic aftertaste in my mouth. I recollected the night before. Oh, my God, whatever came over me? Those demons… Where did they spring from? And Samuel? How could I possibly… I felt like crying out loud in desperation. I willed myself to get up from the bed and return to the guest room. A cold shower brought me back to life somewhat; I got dressed and went downstairs.
‘Good morning, Miriam,’ said Michael, as if nothing had happened.
‘Good morning,’ I mumbled back.
‘Meet my father’s close friends - Barry Clean and Arnaud Canilos.’
‘Glad to meet you,’ I said; it was only at this moment that I noticed the two men in expensive suits who got up to meet me. I had already seen them at the funeral.
‘We’re very glad to meet you, too, Miriam,’ they echoed back, each giving me a glance-over.
I saw genuine interest in their eyes. But somehow such close attention made me feel ill at ease. Suddenly I regretted my coming here. Phil’s close friends – what did it mean? I didn’t like the two guests at all. My instincts told me they weren’t just there to express their condolences.
‘Miriam was the last one to talk to my father,’ Michael explained, for no particular reason. ‘It was nice of her to have come to the funeral.’
‘I understand you’ve spent the night under the roof of this house, haven’t you?’ Barry Clean asked in a conspiratorial tone of voice. ‘What could bring you to a man such as Phil, I wonder? You’re so young I cannot grasp whatever common interests you two might have had? Why was he murdered right after your meeting?’
‘Are you the police?’ I asked.
‘No,’ he replied.
‘Why are you asking me such questions then?’ I was annoyed. I didn’t like the guy.
‘Phil and I were friend for over thirty years. His death has deeply affected me, I hope you understand,’ countered Clean. ‘I can’t figure out why he was murdered. Everything in the house remained intact, not a book was stolen – how can all this be explained? Besides, the police investigation into the murder has stalled: no traces of the perpetrator have been found yet, not one lock has been broken. The murderer seems to have materialized out of thin air, done his job and then vanished into thin air again,’ said the unpleasant guy in his expensive suit, clearly bewildered.
‘Or it could be that Phil was acquainted with the murderer and let him into the house on his own,’ I suggested.
‘The police have already looked into this theory – all alleged visitors have a rock solid alibi concerning that night,’ Barry Clean said.
‘But an alibi can well be made up, can’t it?’ I insisted.
‘Surely, it can! You should have been a detective !’ said Arnaud Canilos, smiling.
‘You shouldn’t talk to me like that,’ I answered back, taking him down a peg. ‘I’ve got a suspicion that some so-called “Phil’s friends” are clearly holding something back…’
‘What just are they holding back?’ asked Arnaud Canilos sarcastically.
‘For instance, they are tight-lipped about the fact that Phil wasn’t only a psychiatrist and demonologist, but he also was a staunch Satanist. He must have taken part in black masses and orgies in the company of such amiable friends as you,’ I said defiantly. ‘I’m quite confident that his murderer hides within the company of people who loved and respected him so much.’
The men actually screwed up their faces – nobody had expected me to behave so defiantly.
‘Miriam…’ said Michael reproachfully.
‘Never mind, Michael, let her talk. This young lady is very smart and courageous – everybody must have his or her say from time to time after all,’ said Barry Clean in a benevolent tone of voice.
‘Right you are,’ I retorted, beginning to feel amused by the conversation. ‘Everybody may have his or her say. So here’s what I’m going to say: Phil was acquainted with the murderer and was afraid of him – that’s for sure. The detective told me Phil’s eyes were wide open with horror in evident anticipation of his impending death. Phil didn’t even try to put up resistance. It’s highly likely that he was killed by someone much higher up than him in status or in spirit. This someone must have been from Satanic circles.
‘You know so much about all this that it’s beginning to seem to me that you take part in the afore-mentioned enjoyments yourself,’ said Barry Clean with a crooked smile.
‘No, I’ve never taken part in such games and never will. I guess these “enjoyments” are mostly for the likes of you,’ I retorted sarcastically.
‘It is a bit too thick to be so bold!’ Arnaud Canilos said, outraged. ‘You don’t have the slightest idea of what you’re talking about. You're crazy! Do you really think all Phil’s friends are Satanists?! I hope you’re aware of what you’re saying. We are his close friends but it does not necessarily mean that we were initiated into all o
f his secrets, and much less that we are Satanists.’
‘In any case, you may not have known about all this personally, I don’t insist upon it,’ I said, retreating somewhat. ‘I would gladly talk some more with such pleasant gentlemen as you, but I have to leave you. It’s time for me to go. Good luck!’ I said with phony politeness and left the room.
Michael dashed out of the room immediately after I left.
‘Miriam, don’t you know they are well-respected people?’ he said in a hushed tone of voice.
‘I knew it right from the start, Michael. I don’t know what comes over me in this house – I’m constantly going for the men I barely know,’ I said, half-jokingly trying to find the shadow of the previous night in Michael’s eyes. ‘I feel like I’m not being myself. I guess this has something to do with that book and your father. I apologize for my reckless and inexplicable behavior.
‘Last night was one of the most wonderful nights in my life, so there’s no need to apologize. I’ve known a lot of women but I’ve never met one like you. As for my guests – well, don’t worry, I’ll try to sort it out somehow,’ said Michael, drawing me to him.
I felt his heartbeat. This man held some inexplicable sway over me; he attracted me like a magnet. I greedily pressed my lips against his. My desire was stronger than I was. I didn’t feel like stopping halfway: having forgotten about decency, I undid the belt of Michael’s jeans and pulled the zipper down. His jeans fell to the floor; I kneeled before him and took his swollen flesh in with my lips. My sexual desire was brimming over; I was craving wild sex. Grabbing Michael by his buttocks, I began gradually taking his hard penis all the way down my throat. Michael shuddered and moaned quietly.
‘I don’t really know what came over me, Michael,’ I said, wiping my lips.