Nightmarish Sacrifice (Cardew) (4 page)

             
But this was a role I admired – it was coming naturally to me, I realized, when I decisively lifted my face towards Cardew and, half-closing my eyes with supreme contempt, I claimed clearly, not without a hint of provocation, “You only used to be my god!”
              And then, feeling as though the stage was rapidly falling apart under my feet, I turned round and rushed towards the curtains at its other end, and Cardew, playing astonished from my words, gave out a growl of subconsciously helpless fury and glared after me in a way which could sincerely set the scenery on fire.

             
It was the sudden outburst of applause that made me turn, and the first thing I could see behind me was the intense absorbing flame into Cardew’s eyes; having turned his back on the audience – which was possibly cheering more for him than for me – he was gazing strongly at me, in an obsessively mesmeric way, and I could perceive that there was unfeigned admiration glowing in his darkened gray eyes – an emotion which, given his brilliant acting abilities, he wasn’t at all trying to hide.

             
“Perfect!” Mr Shelton found himself on the edge of the low stage with a single jump, and hurried towards us with his arms wide open as though he would hug us both at the same time – an action which would bring Cardew and me too excitingly close to each other to be able to retain composure and self-respect – and fortunately, the producer restricted himself from that. “Perfect! You were the best one so far, adorable... Frigga –”

             
“Freya,” I looked at him a bit disdainfully, almost offended that he had forgotten my name, but unable to deny that I did look coldly distant enough for his mistake to be logical. “I am Freya – remember this name, as we will be meeting much these days.”

             
Cardew silently smiled behind his back; the older man caught his smile and hid his own one.

             
“But you, Cardew, weren’t playing with the other girls like that either! I swear you weren’t!” he moved his eyes from me to the amazingly attractive boy and back.

             
“I don’t think any of them deserved the role,” Cardew announced calmly and shrugged without showing any signs of embarrassment. “I was objective, as you can see –”

             
“Objective but not fair – still I can see why,” Mr Shelton remarked with a patronizing smile of content agreement, then took a pen out of his pocket, and turned to me. “We have to see the other actors, too, but you can leave us your phone number, Freya, and we’ll call –”

             
“No need to,” Cardew calmly raised his hand to cut him off, and there had remained almost no traces of silvery gray in the suffocating-intense black of his irises when he focused them onto me again. “I will find you before midnight.”

             
Although his tone wasn’t threatening at all – just even and casual – I did feel a warning whiff of invisible fire caress me with its deadly breath.

             
Danger, danger!

             
“Do you know me?” I raised my brows to show mild surprise instead of the anxious terror-filled suspicion that was torturing me on the inside.

             
“I have never seen you before,” he announced tranquilly without taking his eyes off me – the capturing magnetic insistency of his unbending gaze was really making me feel truly paranoid. “But I will find you.”

             
And the irresistibly dominant black flickered ominously inside his gray irises as he smiled negligently.

             
Having sunk in the confusing reflections he was inspiring me with, I was startled by Mr Shelton’s cheerful voice.

             
“Drop by here tomorrow in case you haven’t heard from us by then,” he suggested and I nodded to agree...

             
In spite of being sure that I wouldn’t need to wait that long...

             
                            Relaxed and tenderly silent, the sun was gracefully floating above the distant orange-scarlet horizon line, and the slant sunrays of molten gold with playful reddish-coppery shades were sliding caressingly into the waves of my hair, leaving heated traces behind their vehement kisses.

             
Alone as usual, I was lazily resting on the wide massive stone bench on the edge of the tiny youthful forest, and the town where I was studying felt worlds away, although only about a hundred high slender trees were dividing me from it. A few of those inspiringly emerald broad-leaved saplings were shyly standing out to flank me as if to caringly protect me with their gently warming hug, and, while staring towards the depths of the satin never-ending skies, I was feeling alone – so completely and infinitely alone that I was ready to believe no other human being existed anywhere at all...

             
I genuinely loved this place – the large stone bench which has spent the last few decades or centuries on the outer end of the small young-spirited forest close to the town; it seemed that someone had built that solid seat there in a quest for metaphysical stillness and isolation, and the place around it was so much steeped in their tranquilizing atmosphere that it had begun to attract only poets, loners, and dreamers – people looking for the same secret serene seclusion...

             
People like me.

             
In the numerous calm hours I was spending there, nobody had ever come around, and my ultimate harmonious peace had remained perfectly unbroken, letting me feel as though I had somehow been taken to another realm or far back in the past into the knightly romantic solitude of the Middle Ages, to a quiet and frozen motionless world where melancholy was the majestic adored queen and silence was the only rule to follow.

             
With a noiseless sigh, I let the paper with the already completed lyrics and the pencil slide out of my fingers to the ground, and, leaning my head back on the elbow-rest of the stone sofa and stretching myself to lay comfortably on the friendly cold granite, I closed my eyes and leisurely listened to the soft imaginary rustle of the clouds as they were curving in rich flamboyant folds far above me. The absolute isolation of the place was reminding me of that around a medieval deserted grave mysteriously hidden where there had never been an official cemetery, but this wasn’t filling me with depression or dark sinister thoughts, just the opposite – I was feeling light, airy, immaterial, as though I was able to fly up towards the transparent clouds and simply dissolve into them...

             
If a small dry twig hadn’t suddenly broken almost inaudibly under someone’s feet as if especially to warn me, I wouldn’t have heard the secretly approaching person, and I would have seriously startled, jumped with screams and fallen off the bench – but the sprig saved me all that inconvenience. Keeping my serene calmness and pretending that I hadn’t noticed anything wrong, I remained with my eyes tranquilly closed, and – thrilled with feverish anticipation and tempting mystery with a hint of earnest dread – I waited for the stranger to reveal himself.

             
Although I knew who he was from the moment when I realized someone was there at all.

             
“Lovely –” Cardew’s voice was filled with mild warm vibrations as the word he whispered caressed his lips so close above me that his breath alluringly brushed my hair and tickled down my neck almost imperceptibly. “If you’ve been bewitched, I have several ideas how to break the spell –”

             
“I wouldn’t let you do it,” I laughed carelessly and opened my eyes to fix them vigorously onto his so as to show him that I hadn’t given up the furious war meant to turn into a harmless game; the strong appealing scent of his perfume was making my heart race wildly but I didn’t make him the pleasure to let him know that. “You are far too mysterious to be trustworthy.”

             
Actually, if anything could enchant me right then, it was the irresistible exciting magnetism his silvery-steel stare was radiating, but – just like the first time I met his eyes – I perceived something so delusive and threatening inside them that an instinct shouted at me to be on my guard.

             
After all, the two of us were alone there.

             
Completely alone...

             
“True,” Cardew agreed, pleased with my generous assessment, and went round the wide bench, so as to stand in front of it – not that there was a free space for him to sit. “But you shouldn’t attack your messenger, lovely, when he brings you such excellent news.”

             
So I had got the part!... I didn’t feel as much triumph as relief, as if a predestination had really fulfilled.

             
“Messengers often pay with their heads, no matter the news,” I giggled with evil joy and he didn’t hold his smile back. “So they chose me for the role?”

             
“Of course,” the boy shrugged, his proud confidence for a moment turning from ‘I am the best’ to ‘we are the best’. “Who else?”

             
I chuckled secretly under my breath; my legs were occupying the whole bench, and I folded them in the knees so he could have a seat on the just freed space if he wanted, but it seemed that he preferred watching me from above – maybe because his height looked even more imposing as I wasn’t on my feet.

             
“Are you the person I have to thank for that?” I fixed my eyes on him without showing much enraptured gratitude, even though I was sure that the choosing process hadn’t passed without his subtle – or majestically obvious – manipulation in my favour.

             
Cardew laughed melodiously and shrugged, playing innocent.

             
“I can’t hide that you impressed me,” he said it negligently and I could only wonder if I had really shaken him to the bottom of his soul like he had effortlessly done with me; the last rays of the setting sun were turning his hair into horrifying gory red, and the creamy brick-coloured shades in it couldn’t soften his threatening radiance, despite the light smile playing on his lips as he was watching me.

             
But – in defiance of all rationality, he was somehow strangely making me feel safe in his presence, somehow completely protected – as though his advent was the most terrifying event that could possibly happen and, after it, nothing else could be as dangerous.

             
“I don’t believe you,” I announced mock-haughtily and his smile widened. “You are such a flawless actor that hiding something can’t be difficult for you.”

             
Flattered, Cardew laughed noiselessly and tossed his head aside, and the sunrays crashed ardently onto his hair from another angle, thus turning it reddish-coppery.

             
“I am able to hide everything I feel, including that,” he grinned, not looking away from my eyes. “But I found no reasons to do it for something so obvious –” his stare was smirking with silent content and I couldn’t rationally explain to myself why I was so alluringly pleased with the praising way in which he was watching me when he went on, “If your namesake the goddess Freya has possessed the same stunning beauty as you do, no wonder that half of the Norse mythology heroes have been infatuated with her –”

             
‘He only wants to prove me vulnerable,’ I voicelessly screamed to my already surrendering heart while his eyes were caressingly moving from my face down the curves of my spilled hair, and outlining my silhouette as though, had he been not so composed, his hands and utterly tempting lips wound have followed the same path. ‘He’s just trying to find out if flattery is my weak place –’

             
Too bad it really was – he seemed to be able to find instinctively the softest points in his enemies.

             
The perfect dueller...

             
“Oh, compliments? You’re getting me suspicious,” I declared, my voice turning slightly colder but, as a compromise, even more amused. “I’m sure there must be a hidden meaning behind them –”