“Wow! Is No-where now-here!? Or ‘here and now’?”
“Imagine! He has been looking for Nowhere all his life. Anyway, I think he found it in his book.”
“Then what is he doing here if he has found what he was looking for?” the Guardian got surprised.
“Do you mean the Mansion is visited by only those who are still in search?”
The Guardian brought me coffee.
“You are even cooler than I imagined,” he sighed for some reason.
“Is it bad?”
The Guardian didn’t answer, since the Cat approached us.
“Me-e-ow…”
***
The Waterman appeared in the hall without a retinue, swam to the stage and, without ceasing to swim along it in one direction or the other, immersed the guests into a trance with tales about his search for Nowhere all over the globe. From time to time, he took out ancient maps with blurry signs and symbols, but his melodic voice had a much stronger effect on the audience.
I watched the guests evenly nodding their heads in a trance, and at some point they seemed to be… puppets. I closed my eyes, and then opened them and saw… Ray! I screamed and closed my eyes once more. Someone grabbed my arm from the right side of the Giant Mirror. I opened my eyes again and saw the Guardian.
“What’s wrong?” he asked ingratiatingly.
I looked back into the hall, but there was Roman at my table. It was too stuffy there. “Just a mirage…”
“Nothing,” I exhaled, “why?”
The Guardian silently stepped away behind the curtains that separated us from the rest of the Mansion. I announced the break and moved to my table. However, as luck would have it, the Impurities flocked to me with questions!
I dreamed of being alone with Roman, but the Impurities’ flow never stopped, and the Guardian loomed behind the guests in the distance. He was watching me. Silently. Intently. As if the flow between us was something unreal and phantom, and the real ones were the Guardian himself, me and…
I looked at Roman. He was sitting next to me, very close, patiently waiting for…
“I wanted to tell you,” I said mentally, struggling in vain to get away from the Impurities, “there is something wrong here!”
“Who would have doubted!” I heard in reply and looked at the Guardian, who stood at the door still watching me, or us.
“I’m scared,” I confessed to Roman and gently touched his hand for fear he could disappear. However, Roman neither disappeared, nor answered me. I asked still mentally, “Don’t disappear, please!”
“How are you doing in wishing Good to Evil?” Roman asked aloud.
“I hope they heard me yesterday… both here and there…”
The Guardian, apparently tired of standing at the door, approached us. He defiantly took out the bell and, holding it right at the level of my third eye, began to ring it.
The Guardian rang endlessly and so loudly that the small bell in his hand seemed to be transformed into a huge one! The bell was deafened me with its funeral ring, but I could swear, no one else in the hall heard it!
I covered my ears with my hands, the Guardian kept ringing. Roman reached for the bell to stop it in the Guardian’s hands. So did the Cat, who had suddenly jumped on the table and touched the bell with his paw. The Guardian stopped mocking me, turned around and abruptly left the hall. The Cat followed him.
The guests returned to their seats after the break.
“What was that?” I asked Roman silently.
“That’s what is wrong here,” came the meaningful reply.
“Alice,” Roman said aloud, “are you going to make me ‘The Magician’?”
I wasn’t just going to. I really wanted Roman to become Him.
“Then don’t stop, Alice!”
Task No. 6. The BRIDGE of HELP
…Look through everyone you know, both close and distant, to find out who is now harder than you. Perhaps someone needs help, material or spiritual support. Help them. As much as you can, in whatever way you can. Free of charge. Don’t make it public. You have the right to ask them or not to ask a specific question, “How can I help you?” Having asked, listen carefully to the answer. Don’t do anything they don’t ask. Don’t promise what you can’t do. Don’t argue if you think they don’t need that. Just do your best of what they have asked for. Or think of someone else who can help, and become a bridge between them. Help at least one person a month…
***
“Hi… How Museum party?”
“Thank you, Pasha. Are you lonely?”
“No family. Home. Hard. I job Germany, contract, but all closed.”
“You’re not working right now, are you?”
“Yes, home. Closed.”
“Do you speak German?”
“No. Student. Hard…”
“Do you mean you have a teacher?”
“No, books only.”
“Is Germany better than Greece?”
“Yes. Holidays in Greece. Life in Germany. But now no fly home. No fly in Greece. All closed, airport 2…”
“Can I help you somehow?”
“No. U want marry? We marry. Want? Where u want? Russia? Greece? Germany? Where country? How u want? Church official marry. Good so only. U go 2 church? Believe God? I yes. I come 2 u & we talk. Yes?”
Chapter 7. SHOT in VIENNA
The Blizzard was conjuring outside the window.
“I wanted…” I began, but the Guardian cut me off in mid-sentence.
“To visit once more the rooms, where you felt the Portal!”
“Not today… I wanted to ask you a less formal question,” I breathed out, taking the Guardian by hand as he brought me coffee.
“All ears, my Queen!”
“Have I offended you somehow?”
“You are the most curious creature that…”
“Perhaps… are you jealous of me?”
“Me?!” the Guardian exclaimed in surprise and, without looking into my eyes, laughed… too artificially. “For whom, Alice? For the ninety-year-old Baba Yaga? For the Master of the swamp hellcats? Or for the Waterman from Nowhere? By the way, who is there on the menu tonight? A Killer?”
“The title of the book ‘A Shot in Vienna’ doesn’t mean murder,” I said meaningfully.
“Yes, I’ve read his story! Even if he didn’t commit a crime in Vienna after all, how much poison did he release into his potential victim while he was chasing her in a thirst for revenge? Do you think he’s not a murderer? The Forces of Darkness have much more servants than those who are officially on the payroll! Besides, your hero fought in the recent war and there…”
Speak of the Devil, and the Killer, a man in the prime of his life, immediately materialized in the hall with a lovely companion. The guests were looking forward to bloody confessions, they had no idea what he would end up shooting at.
While I led the party, as usual, standing with my back to the Giant Mirror, the Guardian was watching me from behind the counter of the sleeping cafe, and the Cat wandered among the guests, sniffing something.
Suddenly, the Witch, the author of “The Devil’s Trill”, introduced by me at the first party there, appeared in the hall.
The Guardian gave her a displeased look, which she immediately noticed, being frozen at the entrance. However, as soon as I announced the break for an autograph and photo session with the Killer, the Witch sailed up to me.
“May I take a picture of you?” she asked with a mysterious smile.
“Of me?!” I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “Why? A professional photographer took a billion pictures of everybody, including me, during your own party here!”
“Please, Alice, just one frame!” exclaimed the Witch and added in a whisper, “Hurry!”
Her mesmerizing voice and magical look frightened me no less than “Hurry!” and the Guardian’s bell of the previous night. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the Guardian hurrying towards us and Roman entering the hall.
“Hurry up!” repeated the Witch, looking around nervously.
I remained standing with my back to the Giant Mirror when the Witch took a picture of me, but the Guardian immediately grabbed her hand.
“Milady?” he said sternly. “Taking pictures of portals is strictly prohibited!”
The Witch mysteriously looked into the Guardian’s eyes, while there was some movement on her phone, something was appearing, flickering and disappearing. When that stopped, she silently handed the phone to the Guardian. He scanned the file folder, but apparently found nothing criminal. The Witch headed for the exit. The Guardian followed her, and I hurried to my table…
“How are you?” Roman asked calmly, and I wanted so much to bury myself in him, so that he would hug me and… express compassion or protect?.. no, there was no such word there and then…
“This Mansion is the most mysterious place in our city I have ever been to,” I breathed out and added mentally, “What’s going on? Do you understand anything?”
“And what other places in the city have you been to?” Roman asked aloud obvious nonsense, in my opinion.
However, I thought about it and got into a wall of fog!
“Aah! Well, of course, to the Union of Writers!”
Roman kept silent, and then, as if gently stroking my back with his eyes, said,
“Let’s go on!”
“Whatever you want,” I nodded obediently.
Task No. 7. SACRIFICE
…The sacrifice is one of the ways to attract the attention of the Higher Forces to oneself. However, you should sacrifice not what you decided to part with as unnecessary after the inventory, but what is very dear to you.
You give something as a gift to someone who needs it or to whom it is more important now. Silently. Without regrets. Taking nothing in return. Preferably in secret, even from the one to whom you donate something.
One can sacrifice not only an expensive item or money, but also something intangible. The simplest example is a smoker who gave up smoking. You can donate your time.
The amount of the sacrificed will be returned from the Heaven Office to the benefactor’s checking account. One can use it partially or completely to pay off one’s dishonorable deeds (debts to Heaven) or, if a person is energetically clean, to pay for the fulfillment of good wishes.
The Magician doesn’t owe anything to anyone. He constantly makes sure that he is owed…
I heard the sound of the bell, and at the same time I noticed the King of Swords, who had come to the Open Microphone to walk me home at night. I turned my gaze to Roman, but he just ran his hand along my back, releasing me to the stage and to the King of Swords.
***
I returned home, lit the candles and thought, “What else and to whom do I owe here? What to sacrifice?!”
Almost immediately the serpentine beginning in me started hissing seditiously, “Didn’t you sacrificed too much to not understand what you have been paying for all your life, even if now, 33 nights left before…”
The familiar trill of the phone brought me back to turn me inside out and finally shoot me.
“Can ask? U love babies? I want job 1 year & make babies. I want babies. If u want. As God want… boy + girl. Yes? How u want? Tell me… Tell u want 2… Translation: Do you want children, Alice? How many children do you want? Tell me! Tell me the truth…”
I collapsed into bed and roared.
Chapter 8. PROFESSOR of the UNDEAD
I entered the room with a postbox for letters to the Creator. The Guardian sat on a chair by the door while I was scanning all the space in details.
“Each item is a portal,” I came to the conclusion.
“I agree with you,” the Guardian confirmed without any emotion.
“How does it work, inside the Portal?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Has anyone ever left?”
“Some books. Disappeared and appeared. Some others.”
“Are the others here, in the Mansion?”
“Of course,” the Guardian smiled, obviously with no intention of showing them to me.
“What else?” I asked as I slowly moved around the room.
“Just little things… Dresses, gloves…”
“Gloves?!” I looked at the Guardian. “By the way, there is a story about gloves in your book, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “Haven’t you read it?”
“No… Sorry… It’s just…”
“Just? What do you mean?” the Guardian approached me.
“I know what it is about.”
“Do you?! Wow! It’s interesting! Tell me what it is about,” asked the Guardian, coming closer.
“The gloves I lost. You found them in the Portal. Then they came back to me, but I passed them to you, because you were looking for them. More or less like that.”
“What else?” the Guardian touched my third eye with his gaze, and it started vibrating. “Are you able to read information?”
I closed my eyes to get in There, but the door suddenly opened and the silence exploded with…
“MEOW???!!!”
***
I introduced to the audience an absolutely incredible Professor of the Undead, author of the “killing” book titled “The Killers’ Trade Union, or the Undead Boarding House”, and the guests began to bombard him with questions.
“Which way do spirits come into contact with the living?”
“Are there any statistics on the number of the Undead in Moscow and St. Petersburg per square meter of living space?”
“How long do thought-forms and mental entities live?”
“Do you have scars from vampire kisses?”
“What did you feel after you slept with a mermaid?”
Closer to the break, Roman appeared in the hall. When the guests lined up for a photo shoot with the Professor, I sat down at the table by Roman.
“Do you think that…” I asked him mentally.
“No, I don’t,” he answered without listening till the end.
“Give me a hug…” I said, and Roman hugged me. “I’m very tired… More and more often I feel like I live according to some script. As if I’m on a train that used to stop somewhere, but now rushes at full speed without stopping in order to… Well, you know… I can’t change anything, however, I wish you were able to…”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «Литрес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на Литрес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
