Nightmarish Sacrifice (Cardew) (41 page)

             
“What about that kiss earlier, in the scene after we meet?” I almost shouted my question to get heard through the excited crowd. “Was it too realistic again?”

             
“If I have to be honest, yes,” Mr Shelton said but his tone was cheerfully pleased. “And once again I’m happy you didn’t listen to me –”

             
“Was there anything that made you feel uneasy?” Cardew quietly asked in my ear when the producer mixed with the celebrating throng to speak to the others as well.

             
I smiled to the hidden care which had driven his question.

             
“Yeah –” I drawled like a little spoiled girl, and began strenuously twisting a long black curl of mine around my forefinger, before bursting into delighted chuckle. “There in the end when you came alive and I was already dead – you were kissing me and I had to stand still – damn, I tell you, I almost failed!”

             
“Hey –” someone called me uncertainly from behind and I winked at Cardew who was laughing before I turned to face the one trying to attract my attention.

             
It was Claire – all red with guilt, the constant fidgeting giving away her uneasiness.

             
“Claire?” I gave her a tranquil smile; her repentant expression was making me forget about the petty problems she had been constantly creating for me, as I had overlooked most of them anyway. “What’s the matter?”

             
“I wanted to apologize –” the girl wasn’t looking at me, her eyes filled with tears, and Cardew loosened his hug on me and pulled a bit back not to embarrass her additionally. “I’m sorry about your shoes, I was just... so stupid and envious –”

             
“It’s fine, I already forgot about that,” I calmed her down; I really had, as it hadn’t turned into much of a problem at all, and I was even already regretting the fury I had felt then. “Things like this happen, forget about it, too –”

             
“Wait!” she stopped me as I started to walk away. “I’m also sorry for what I said –”

             
I knitted my brows in an attempt to remember anything seriously offensive, but the talk about Cardew was the only recent conversation with her I could recall.

             
Nonetheless, it seemed that it was exactly this Claire was speaking about, as her eyes glimpsed at the boy who was already several steps behind me, and she went on more quietly. “It’s true that he will never be mine, but to me he’s just an obsession that will pass quickly – the fault is in me – after all, I really am not exceptional enough for him, I’m not a goddess –”

             
“But –” she went on without leaving me the time to add anything, “Cardew and you make a really suited couple – probably the only possible one here – or at all, and –” her eyes were staring at the floor and she was talking so silently that I was sure I was the only person who could hear her in the joyfully noisy place; her words came out like in a dream, “He may not belong to this world, Freya, but he belongs to you.”

             
I bit my lips not to say anything before thinking it over; I wasn’t sure she was right, but I was craving from all my heart for her words to be true...

             
“Thank you,” I smiled not to look rude, and reached my hand to shook hers. “You and I used to be enemies, more or less, but we can turn out to be friends in the end –”

             
Claire moved her eyes on my stretched palm, but her fingers didn’t touch it.

             
“Enemies are even in status, just like friends, so we won’t be either. But this was nice of you anyway,” she turned her head aside not to look at me, and I let my hand rest on the rich splendid-red skirt of my dress a bit confusedly. “You did great on stage, congratulations... I’m so sorry for... everything –”

             
“You have no reasons to be sorry,” I reassured her quickly, but she just shrugged again, ready to leave.

             
“Wait,” I placed my palm on her shoulder to stop her; I hadn’t intended to make her speak to me like that, neglecting her own inner desires and fighting against herself, and the whole situation was making me feel guilty, although it wasn’t me who had initiated it. “Don’t you want to stay for the party with the whole team?”

             
“I have to go –” Claire forced out a fake smile and gave me a nod before starting to walk away as if in a hurry to escape from my attempts to be nice. “But you have fun, you worked for it –”

             
I didn’t have the chance to say anything more, as she had already disappeared in the crowd, so I cast a glance over my shoulder to look for Cardew. He was just several metres away and immediately noticed that it was him that I needed, as – just a moment later – his arms folded me in a warm relaxing hug.

             
I turned to face him without breaking free from his embrace, and to attack him with a point-blank kiss seeking for reassurance that everything was alright – as peaceful as it could be without becoming boring; his silent chuckle tickled me in an alluringly pleasurable way, and I did my best to make up for the moment on stage when he had been kissing my motionless lips in this inflaming way that could make even a dead mortal live again.

             
“You haven’t been drinking,” I barely perceptibly followed the lines of his neck to bury my fingertips in his hair, and he answered with a mysterious smile to my playful one. “I would have tasted it in your kiss –”

             
“I haven’t,” Cardew confirmed and concentrated on another caress of his lips on mine before he inserted an explanation, “I’m like you – I never drink with people whom I don’t trust more than I trust myself.”

             
“Then you never drink at all –” I laughed mildly and he gave me a wink.

             
“True.”

             
I chuckled at a memory of a day which felt so distant... “But when you first asked me out –”

             
“Oh,” the boy laughed together with me, and gently thrust his fingers among mine before lifting my hand to his face and slowly kissing it in a subtle infatuating way that made me narrow my eyes with relish. “I knew that you would turn me down and I didn’t want to play my trumps when the game would be yours anyway –”

             
I burst into silent chuckle, shaking my head jokingly. “And for a second I thought that you trust me more than you trust yourself!”

Cardew’s
thumb suddenly stopped fondling the back of my hand, and this made me fix my eyes on his face – there was something strange in his utterly earnest expression, as if he was thinking over my words far more deeply than I could suppose.

             
“No, lovely –” he pronounced after a short reflection I didn’t dare to interrupt. “I don’t... But maybe I should –”

                                          It was already late when Cardew and I left the celebration together, and I was so totally exhausted I didn’t even ask him come upstairs with me when he walked me to the hostel.

             
“You really must be tired,” the boy kissed my forehead gently and this dulcet gesture of care made me feel as if I was a child. “Have the sweetest dreams tonight, lovely, and call me when you wake up tomorrow, alright?”

             
“Thank you, adorable,” I giggled quietly and gave him a wink, but Cardew mildly shook his head.

             
“You are the adorable one,” his smile gave me a mild prolonged caress which could easily make me change my mind and really drag him to my room, but, having perceived my fatigue, he waved goodbye and turned to walk away.

             
I didn’t stop him but my hand lingered a bit around the door handle on purpose, to grant me with some time to stare dreamily after his slowly disappearing silhouette until it completely melted away inside the darkness, and just after that did I enter the hostel.

             
Exhaustion was delaying my movements and, having finally climbed the stairs, I hid my yawn behind my palm while heading for the familiar door of my room...

             
But all my laziness disappeared as soon as my eyes noticed the position of the door handle, and I stopped short in my place, before taking a quick instinctive step back.

             
The door was swinging open, a dark hole gazing at me from the place of the broken locker.

             
The horror allowed me another breath before striking sharply, scattering thousands of petrifying thrills down my back: someone had been into my room!

             
‘Damn it!’ I chewed my lower lip not to scream, and listened carefully to the silence to make sure the unwanted visitor had already left – but I could even hear the blood pulsating into my veins, as not even the sound of breathing was coming from the inside of the room.

             
Encouraged, I took a wary step across the door-sill, and found myself into the place I was used to calling home.

             
However, there was nothing from the homely sense of safety left among those walls – everything was spilled around in such unbelievable chaos that I felt as though I had found myself in an unknown realm, where nothing belonged to me.

             
An unknown frozen realm...

             
I guessed that this was the medieval feeling of walking into a town destroyed with the force of fire by a hostile clan just several days before – the walls themselves were the only thing there which still felt familiar after the raving of the uninvited guest. I didn’t even want to imagine how each possession of mine had been touched before carelessly tossed on the floor, but I urged myself to have a better look around and see what was missing, as that would probably help me identify if not the person – or people – who had been there, then at least their aims.

             
Something was hinting me that they hadn’t been looking for money...

             
The door to my inner bathroom was hanging at a strange unnatural angle like a broken limb, and the bed wasn’t whole anymore, nor was the desk or either of the two chairs – I kicked them aside and made a great effort not to bite my lips all the time while looking at how everything material I had was laying broken on the floor.

             
‘You are alright, possessions don’t matter,’ my mind whispered to console me, and, repeating the same thought over and over again, I went on wandering inside the devastated room.

             
I didn’t know what to do there...

             
The posters from the walls were torn apart and paper pieces with the faces of my favourite musicians were gazing at me from all around the floor. No book had been left untouched – their pages were scattered everywhere, mixing with cloth pieces from the content of what had used to be my wardrobe – and currently was nothing but several boards of fine wood.

             
How strong had the person who had broken it been? I shuddered to ignore that thought: if a hurricane had annihilated the place, it would have been a lot tidier.

             
Careful not to make any noise as if I myself was the one who should be afraid not to get heard, I went on looking at the pieces of my privacy spread unevenly on the floor – my jewellery was there, too, as well as the cash that had been in the room – the banknotes were left there pointedly, as a display that it was not money the invaders had been looking for.

             
Then what?...

             
The thought was suffocating me, making my movements sharp and imprecise, and the more time I was spending in the mess that had used to be my room, the more frustrated I was feeling.