The Devil and the Red Ribbon

by Theo Rion

  John spread his cloak on the grass.

  “Sit down,” he said. Kurt sat down obediently. “Close your eyes. I want you to see something.”

  “I have to see without looking?”

  “I thought psychologists could see the souls of their patients.”

  Kurt smiled. “Maybe.”

  John took off Kurt’s shirt.

  “What are you doing?” Kurt asked.

  “You’ll see. Now close your eyes.”

  When Kurt obeyed, John lowered his sack to the ground and opened it. Kurt listened to the silence broken only by the river and a slight clang. The ringing stopped, and the silence of the night wreathed with the river and a gentle wind carefully touched Kurt’s skin. It seemed to him he was alone here, and at the same time, he had never felt such a deep unity with all that surrounded him. And suddenly, in unison with the triad of the night, the river and the wind, there was John’s voice.

  “You can feel the warmth of the wind, soon it will be cold, but still it will be the wind. The wind is me.”

  John lowered his hands into one of the gilded bowls filled with water, and touch Kurt’s face and neck with a damp palm. After this, he again put his hand in a bowl, and from his fingertips drops fell on Kurt’s face.

  “Once upon a time in my life there was a rain.”

  Surprisingly, every drop that fell on Kurt’s skin appeared in his mind like an ink stain, which was losing its former shape and turning into a new amazing picture. It was like a shadow theatre, where one image easily changed to another, relying on the illusion of light and darkness. Kurt was captured by this view; he forgot where he was, and John’s voice led him down a path known only to him.

  John lit a candle and brought it close to Kurt’s face. Even with closed eyes, Kurt saw a bright shining halo, arising out of the darkness, and felt its warmth.

  “I had a light,” whispered John, “but it disappeared.”

  The light before Kurt’s eyes was gone, leaving only the outline of a halo in the memory. From the other bowl, John picked up a handful of light crystalline sand. It streamed easily down Kurt’s spine.

  “And all turned to dust.”

  John wet Kurt’s lips with water, and it was bitter.

  “All the rivers in my soul turned to sagebrush.”

  John took Kurt’s hand and suddenly strongly pricked it to draw blood, startling Kurt. He opened his eyes, but John shut them with his hand, as if trying to preserve the created illusion. He kissed Kurt’s palm, where blood appeared.

  “In my soul lives pain,” John whispered. “And you…”

  Kurt felt a copper, salty taste on his lips; it was his own blood that remained on John’s lips. Their kiss suddenly tied them, turning them into an organic whole. The blood spread the taste of John throughout his body; it seeped into every cell, leaving its mark.

  It took only a few moments, and Kurt’s whole world was permeated by John Fenririr, if not possessed by him. But Kurt couldn’t think about it now, and, at the same time, he knew John wouldn’t stop at that kiss. He would not stop until he took everything Kurt was.

  Was Kurt afraid of it? He wasn’t sure if what he felt was fear. His body shook, breathing became frequent and abrupt; he was in a fever.

  John was more confident. He didn’t cover Kurt’s eyes anymore; he was busy freeing him from his clothes. Kurt didn’t open his eyes. Languor gripped him, befuddled him to such a degree it seemed he might lose consciousness. John was too assertive, too skilled for someone who called himself a virgin. His every touch, every movement drove Kurt into delirium. Only somewhere on the edge of his mind, Kurt guessed that the reason for this wasn’t John’s sophistication, but his own desire. He would never confess it to himself, but he wanted John. It was a good game, but alas, all these words about John were attractive and ugly at the same time, and they became meaningless.

  Kurt was burning, unable to hide his pleasure. He gave himself to John thoughtlessly, recklessly. He didn’t think about how he would collect his own thoughts and feelings, scattered in the darkness of night, where the gentle breeze and the river would carry them away. He also didn’t think about the fact that John saw through him right now; how vulnerable he was naked and impassioned in front of John. He couldn’t see his own eyes, in which there was only John Fenririr—his body and strength. And he couldn’t see that John himself, even though he held Kurt now, was conquered, embraced by the same passion, one he had never known, one which he had feared, but as a great hunter for pleasure, he wasn’t going to stop halfway.

  The night was the witness of their union, the river saw their caress, and the wind heard their whispers and took the heat of their breath, unable to cool it down. The rising sun caught them in the same place. Sheltered with another cloak, the lovers were sleeping in each other’s arms.

  * * * *

  Now will you stop? In his bedroom, Kurt’s reflection in the full-length mirror demanded. It has gone too far!

  Kurt said nothing as he sat on the bed. Another Kurt sat next to him, but unlike his reflection, this Kurt was enthusiastic.

  Now you will stop; you must! Everything has changed. Love—

  Love! Kurt’s reflection disparaged. What is the difference between this night and those he spent with the others?

  There were no others, the second Kurt tried to protest while losing his ecstatic expression.

  You don’t believe in what you say yourself!

  “I don’t believe!” the real Kurt suddenly repeated and looked at both the twins, who suddenly disappeared. I don’t believe. I know what was, and yes, I was tempted, but it didn’t revive my faith. What happened, perhaps, helps me to finish the deal. If John wasn’t lying, and yesterday it was the first time, it must mean something to him. His sleeping vigilance won’t be a hindrance. And love…?” Kurt suddenly smiled bitterly to himself. The lady in red glanced at him from under her broad-brimmed hat, while the lady in black was unabashedly calm.

  Kurt got up slowly, leant on his crutches, and went into the living room.

  “How are you feeling, Mr. Rhein?” Edna asked. Kurt immediately noticed a change in her. She didn’t look him in the eye, as if she knew what had happened last night.

  “The leg still hurts.”

  “The doctor said you need at least a week to recover. Why did you get up? You could call me if you need something.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hoggart,” Kurt nodded. “Set the breakfast in my office, please,” Kurt said and wanted to go back to his room, but he stopped and, turning to Edna, he asked, “Did…Mr. Fenririr send me anything?”

  Kurt instantly regretted asking it.

  “No, Mr. Rhein,” replied Edna.

  “I see, thank you.”

  * * * *

  Two more days passed, during which no one visited Kurt. All this time, Kurt tried to occupy himself with work from morning until late evening. He sorted out old notes, made new notes on his work, but he had great difficulty maintaining his concentration.

  Today, he also worked in the office, trying to get away from the thoughts and feelings that fully captured him when he had allowed himself to relax. Such a loss of concentration led to the complete breakdown of reality for half an hour, during which time Kurt travelled through his recent memories, where John permanently accompanied him.

  Edna came into the office. “Mr. Rhein,” she said.

  “Oh, Mrs. Hoggart, I need you. In the hallway, I left two envelopes. Could you bring them to me?”

  “Of course, Mr. Rhein. Mr. Danee is here.”

  “Philip? I’ll be right down,” Kurt briefly said, and reached for the cane that he had discovered that morning near the entrance. He didn’t know whose it was, but it was very comfortable and also quite unusual. The cane’s handle was made of ivory in the form of a tiger’s head, the lines smooth and skillfully made, and a daedal engraving stretched down the entire cane. Moreover, the knob glowed with gold. In general, the thing was intricate. Kurt liked it, but first of all, he valued
it for its convenience.

  Kurt went into the living room, where he met Philip. Philip’s face hadn’t changed since their last meeting. Anxiety remained in his eyes, and it greatly increased when Philip saw Kurt with the cane.

  “Good afternoon, my friend,” Kurt said as gently as possible.

  “What happened to you, Kurt?”

  “I fell from a horse,” he said and smiled a little guiltily.

  “How so?”

  “A simple accident.”

  “This is one of John’s games,” Philip said and immediately frowned.

  “Philip, let’s not overshadow your visit. You came for a reason.”

  “Yes.” He shook his head as if trying to get rid of unpleasant thoughts, but it didn’t work properly. And yet he was able to smile weakly and handed Kurt an envelope. “This is an invitation to my wedding with Miss Eliza.”

  Kurt smiled and took it.

  “In two months; it is very soon,” Kurt said, reading the invitation. “I’m not sure if I’ll be here at that time.”

  “Why?”

  “I was invited to work in Paris.”

  Philip was suddenly filled with hope.

  “You should definitely go!” he said with fervor. “Paris is an amazing city! Miss Eliza weekly writes me letters, and there’s nothing that doesn’t reach her pure heart. Beautiful architecture, excellent education, interesting society,” continued Philip. He painted the charms of Paris, as if he offered Kurt a jaunt, where he would get everything he dared to dream and even more.

  “Philip, I’ve been to Paris,” Kurt laughed. “Believe me, I know how beautiful it is and not by hearsay.”

  “What keeps you here?”

  “I have unfinished business. And you must understand how troublesome moving can be, especially to another country. I understand you want me to be as far as possible from John, but I’m not going to run headlong anywhere.”

  “I’m sorry, Kurt, but you have already committed one act, as you put it—headlong. Whatever you do, you won’t beat John. I say this not because I think you’re a bad player, Kurt!” Philip’s voice sounded desperate. “You don’t know who John is connected to!”

  Kurt frowned. “So, tell me.”

  Philip was silent for some time. “Well, I have no right to talk about it, but if it will convince you, then I’m ready for it.”

  “I assure you that whatever you say here will stay here.”

  “It isn’t only his faithful retinue behind John, but also members of some order, where John was accepted after father’s death.”

  This wasn’t news for Kurt, but he hoped that Philip, unlike Edna, would be able to tell him the details.

  “Now, many people are in all sorts of communities. I don’t see any threat,” Kurt said calmly, hoping that this would encourage Philip to tell more.

  “Communities are different,” said Philip. “This order brings together influential leaders and investors.”

  “How did John get there?”

  “The order carefully selects its members. There’s a special procedure for the acceptance, which has remained unchanged since the Middle Ages. And some of the members believe they should get rid of such remnants, but succession is very honored in this order. So, John came there just after father’s death. The eldest son, who inherited almost all the capital, took his place. But this isn’t important. Through its influence, this order covers its members and protects them, including when the conduct of a member of the order is contrary to the law, not to mention ethics and morals, because they have their own code. In John’s case, it means he can even get away with murder.”

  Kurt listened to Philip intently, lightly tapping on the handle of the cane.

  “John has impunity and permissiveness, even more now than in childhood. Punishment didn’t scare him then either. And now he knows he will always come out unscathed. Therefore, it is dangerous to play with John. I already told you I didn’t doubt your intellect and talents, and that’s why it’s so dangerous for you to remain in contact with John. He amuses himself with stupid and narrow-minded people and simply destroys his rivals. That’s why I’m so worried about you.”

  Kurt was still pondering Philip’s words, and the silence dragged on. “I’m very grateful to you, Philip,” he finally said, “for your trust and even more for your concern.”

  “But—”

  “What?”

  “You thank me, but still you will continue?”

  “I won’t lie to you, Philip; yes, I will continue. In the end, someone has to try,” Kurt said and smiled.

  “To beat John?”

  “To get to him,” Kurt corrected him.

  Philip looked at him incredulously. “I’ve done everything I could.” Philip spread his hands helplessly.

  “I don’t want to lose your friendship because of this,” Kurt said sincerely.

  “You won’t,” Philip assured him. “If you don’t lose yourself in the process.”

  Kurt smiled. They drank tea together and talked about abstract topics, but the atmosphere wasn’t the same. Feeling the tension between them, Kurt was sorry things turned out this way. However, he wasn’t going to retreat.

  When Philip left, Kurt remembered what he had asked Edna before Philip arrived.

  “No, Mr. Rhein, there are no letters in the hallway,” she replied to his question, when Kurt called her.

  “It’s weird. I remember I left them there. Okay, Mrs. Hoggart, thank you,” said Kurt, but Edna remained standing on the spot. “Do you have a question?” he asked her.

  She handed him something on her open palm.

  “I cleaned your suit and this fell out.”

  A golden ring lay on her palm. Kurt took it, staring in amazement. He had never seen this ring before. “Thank you,” he said absently, and she left. How strange, he thought.

  * * * *

  Compresses and a relatively quiet atmosphere led to the result that after six days Kurt could do without the cane at home. He limped slightly, but it wasn’t like he could venture out on long hikes. Overall, he felt fine.

  A week passed without seeing John. He didn’t appear and didn’t even send an invitation to his weekly reception. Though, judging by the glowing windows and plenty of coaches, the reception took place as always. It gave Kurt a chance to think about everything. It was hard to say it was very fruitful, but Kurt felt calmer. The events of that night seemed a distant dream, and sometimes Kurt reproached himself for having yielded to John, because it was quite possible that John’s absence testified to his loss of interest in Kurt. Kurt often wondered if he had made a fatal mistake. But he could not turn back time and fix it, nor would he have corrected it, even if he could.

  Kurt had to admit he had his own reasons to succumb to this temptation, but not the strength to resist it. He understood he had gotten used to squabbling with John, and after three days he didn’t know where to go. He had to bet, to trade witticisms, or at least to throw and receive meaningful glances.

  How have I sunk to such depths?

  Passing John’s house, where several windows were lit, Kurt stopped. His thoughtful look turned to the garden, where, mentally wandering along the paths, he was trying to find the secret entrance that would allow him to get into John’s soul. Why had he decided that John’s soul was about to burst open in front of him? Had he lost?

  Sometimes you have to lose to win, said Kurt to himself, turning away from the house, which again turned into an impregnable fortress. If John has lost his interest, I should lull his vigilance a little more. He thinks he has won; I won’t dissuade him. No one has so bleary eyes as the winner.

  * * * *

  While the day is smoldering, the sun is in the sky,

  The key is in hidden words, that you will have to find.

  John read this in the letter he had just received.

  “What is this?” he asked his servant.

  “It was delivered in the morning, Mr. Fenririr.”

  “By whom?”
r />   “I don’t know, sir.”

  “Why are you telling me this only now? It’s noon already!”

  “Excuse me, sir, but I didn’t dare to wake you up.”

  John waved, the servant left, and John continued to read…

  There’s a message waiting for you in the shadow of the trees,

  And it is lying, kept for you by the statue of Themis.

  John grinned. Having finished his late breakfast, he went outside and headed to Kurt’s house. At the insistent knocking on the door, Edna came out. Seeing John, she was a little dumbfounded.

  “Is Kurt at home?” John asked unceremoniously.

  “No, Mr. Fenririr. Mr. Rhein left for the city early in the morning. He didn’t say where he went and when he would come back.”

  “Okay.” John looked at her and left. Walking along the road leading to the house through the garden, John read the letter again.

  “The statue of Themis,” he repeated aloud. On the right from John a path went deep into the garden; it led to the fountain, where on the podium there was a statue of Themis. John grinned and turned right.

  In the fountain, on the water, at the foot of the statue of Themis, an envelope floated. John caught it and read almost blurry lines very attentively.

  In the alley a coach waits,

  To the world of art it takes.

  This game seemed interesting to John; he went out of the garden. Near the gate there was a coach, which hadn’t been there a moment ago. John climbed into it, and the coachman, without saying a word, set the coach in motion. When it stopped in front of a building, John looked out the window. It seemed the coachman wasn’t going to go anywhere else.

  John stepped out of the coach and walked to the coachman, but he looked absent, hence John didn’t ask him anything. The building, in front of which the coach stood, was the Museum of Art.