Kitabı oku: «Mutilated. Crypt of the Seven Angels», sayfa 2
Hallucination
The bright sunlight expelled bad memories. Claire woke up early and examined the windows and doors. She did not find any signs of hacking. There were also no traces of the house penetration. Nothing was damaged or stolen. Everything remains in their places. The night guest could consider the creature of nightmarish dreams if…
If it were not rose.
It still lay on bed, with a fresh cut on the stem and bloody spikes. Someone cut off the flower with a knife with a bush in her garden. She herself raised these roses: purple-red, large, with velvety petals. The roses demanded a lot of care. Claire never cut flowers in vain. It is excluded that she herself could forget and disrupt the spiny flower. This did someone else. But who and how?
Claire wanted to take and throw a rose, but only wounded her fingers about the spikes. Her blood ran out on the bed. On the blue atlas there were sloppy strokes, similar to paint drops. What a pity! Dear fabric was ruined. Claire shuddered. In her soul, some long-standing memories of the luxurious passage commissioned by blood was moved. That was someone’s wedding dress stitched by the pattern of vintage mod. Claire rushed for a long time in her memory, but it was not able to remember whose dress it was, and why blood dripped on it.
She left attempts to raise a rose with bare hands. There was nipper in her garden basket. You need to go, get it and take the rose. The fingers were wounded. Claire was offended Why did she take care of the flowers! At the same time, the pain gradually appealed to some kind of pleasant burning in the tips of the fingers. Claire was even surprised. Previously, pain was frightened, but now… now she even felt the relief from the fact that someone’s blood on the spikes of roses was mixed with her own. As if it was already once a long time ago. As if it is so nice and exciting – to divide someone else’s pain. The pain of whom she does not even know.
A wonderful face, a glimpse of the scary incident in the crowd, shifted yesterday in the crowd, again flashed in her subconscious. Only now it did not burn her. She even remembered where she saw something similar. Of course, in the church. Only there, on the frescoes, the faces of the blond angels were simultaneously strict and suffering. She didn’t have to repeat this expression in the paintings. As artists of antiquity only went out to breathe in those faces something unearthly. Angels, carefully discharged with a brush on the walls of the church, simultaneously inspired fear with their desire to shake everyone and at the same time source was out of the strange flour for everyone who watched their terrible eyes. And punish, and suffer… expression in halftones. Claire wanted to repeat it and could not.
She’s not such a good artist, as masters who lived in old dark epochs. She is a person of the future.
Claire did not understand herself. Why should she imitate someone? It is better to engage in photography and computer graphics in paintings than to mess with brushes and paints. It is necessary to become more modern. All the same, for some reason, she liked the emerging from fashion, but the usual methods. Canvas, watercolor, gouache… Paints, similar blood. She presented how millions of various lack of tones are mixed at the palette. What a divine and fantastic vision. The blood of her enemies, prompted the mind. Such a wonderful combination can only give birth to it.
«Blood of our enemies!» suddenly the helpful voice corrected. A beautiful tenor with barely noticeable hoarse. Claire turned into horror, but there was no one in the house. Only her own frightened reflection in the mirror with fear looked at her with a far wall of the hall. Sometimes even self reflection can scare. Especially considering that the hall was drowned in the semidarkness. It was necessary to take away heavy curtains that did not miss the sunlight. Claire did it, and yet it seemed to her that in the mirror managed to spit out some kind of dark shadow. Right next to her reflection.
True, all this was more like an optical deception or hallucination. Surely, long loneliness badly influenced the mind and contributed to the generation of different frightening fantasies. Claire must have her privacy to work well. Annoying relatives and friends would only crack her nerves and tear off from creativity. Employers require the quality and rapid work time. Claire realized that loneliness is her friend, and not the enemy. She liked the silence of an empty house and the complete lack of need to chat with someone about the trifles, walk to friends for lunches and dinners, maintain a conversation and cope with tedious birthdays. It is better to always be alone. When you are alone, the doors are open to inspiration and for someone else who hides in the dark. But she considered the last as a fantasy.
Demons do not exist. Claire did not remember how long she did not go to church. It was due to the fact that the temple was not allowed in jeans and with a uncoated head, but today she decided to violate all the conditions. If God is, he doesn’t care what is dressed in parishioners. After all, the main soul, not an appearance. And if the outer shell really corresponds to the soul, the Claire was as beautiful as angels on the frescoes. If not even better.
She turned into a bustling bushes of roses, who had fallen a wrought hedge around her house. Spiky branches were additional protection against robbers. It is unlikely that someone would have decided to climb through them. She bought this house and made a lush pink garden with abundant spikes especially in order to feel herself at rest and security. No one could penetrate here, do not pour out on the spikes.
Often looking in the mirror, Claire noted that she, too, like a rose with spikes. Beautiful, but far from being compliant. You will try to disrupt – we will erase the blood. In her pocket, she specifically wore a folding knife for self-defense. Such are usually only fur guys, but it has not doubted that in case of danger, she will be able to use it perfectly.
Claire pulled a knife from her pocket to feel his weight in hand and chill blade. Her oppressed the feeling that something terrible is approaching. Maybe it seemed because of the gloomy atmosphere, which was created around the house too crushed roses. A little more, and they will stop skipping daylight into the windows.
Claire squinted on a bright sun. She remembered that today is Sunday, and in the church must be full of people, but, to her surprise, there was a few parishioners. They just took the communion. Claire managed only by the end of the service. In a strange way, no one paid attention to her causing teenage outfit: a narrow jeans and a short top that opened a tattoo in the form of roses on the stomach. All behaved as if Clair was not here. She could not remember when the last time the parishians in the church showed such politeness. It must only be in the Middle Ages in Venice, when it was allowed to go to the church even to the courtesans to look among the parishioners their future customers. But here it was necessary to be different.
Claire leaned to the marble column in the shade and began to consider the angels drawn in simpleness and under the dome of the temple. She had to head her head to see the drawings that she liked the most. Unfortunately, they were set too high. If you look at them for a long time, the head begins to break.
But they were drawn to masterfully. Claire almost heard the rustle of the angel wings, when she looked at the frescoes. Beautiful faces looked strictly and with indescribable torment. How their beauty is contradictory.
Claire looked down and flinched. It seems to be burned fire. Again! A young man with blond hair and a surprisingly beautiful face came from a bowl with communion. He did not even look toward Claire, but she could not take a glance from him. What is in him, in this young beauty? She saw young men and much more nice, but from the type of this she was like shocked. The feeling was as if she was thrown into the fire, and she could not move in it. Punch in the head, kick in the heart! So people are driving crazy. But it was not love at all and not even sympathy. The face that she had long tried to restore in memory was completely different. Nevertheless, this stranger seemed like this similar.
Claire was worth a lot of effort to get out of the church and sit on the bench in the courtyard. The feeling of fire and sunburn in the mind did not disappear. And what is the actually, she saw? She became somehow alone. she wanted this feeling gone. She did not even know how to describe such a strange state. You see someone, you pierces you like a fiery pin and you are not alive, and neither are dead. The light of the day is fading before this sensation. You wonder for a moment cease to live.
It never happened to her. Until recently. They said that something similar happened to people who are too often going to the sacrament – the devil begins to tempt them. But today she did not even approach the bowl. The priest vainly turned a look at her. Claire did not allow herself to lure. She loved to consider the churches because of the abundance of sculptures and paintings in them, but church rituals revered on it. As well as what women need to cover their heads in humility. She was not going to humble before anyone, even before God.
«You are so similar to him,» the voice whispered just the samely recognizable. «He also did not want to humble before anyone.»
Claire nervously shook her angel curls. This time she knew firmly that there was no one near. There is not even a mirror that can scare her. But the pool of water directly under her legs reflected something strange. Claire got up from the bench and went away.
Horror Museum
The sun just stood in Zenith. Claire squinting from bright light and immediately noticed a dark shadow. At the portal of the church just stood a stranger, who in the first moment seemed very beautiful to her, and only then she noticed the ugly scars on his face. He passed past Claire, as if he did not notice her at all. But she turned around to look at him again. He was dressed somehow old-fashioned and squeezed in his hand some sharp object. Claire even checked, whether her own pocket knife is in place. Didn’t this man stole him? The knife was still lying in her pocket, and the stranger just disappeared into the passage of the church. A second Claire fought with the desire to go behind him. For some reason it seemed to her that this should not be done, no matter how much she wanted. Some inner instinct warned her: «Run!». This time she listened to it.
Today’s warm day was worth spending in the city center among majestic buildings and fountains. Claire went to look at Big Ben. Moving hands of huge clocks always attracted hert strongly. Clock! Time! Natural and countdown. Fairy tale about stolen time every time went to her memory for a long time. Today, some birds flew away from the Big Ben. One of them scratched Clair on the shoulder. Everything that happens more resembled sleep. Claire did not even immediately feel pain and blood. She recovered the ruffles of a short top so that they were not smeared and went to wash off the blood in the first fountain, which turned up on the road. Water pleasantly cooled the wounded skin. Claire did not immediately notice the dark reflections in the fountain. Wherever she go today, it seemed to her that some kind of gloomy shadow was moving everywhere after her.
Looks like the consequences of the sunshine. Claire ran his fingers along the bare abdomen. She recently decided to make piercing. Fancy earring over the navel looked pretty elegant. Near the tiny tattoo – rose in the fingers of the skeleton. Black gothic on lily skin! An innocent angelic appearance she attached something dangerous. Claire is tired that everyone looks at her, as at a harmless angel. She wanted to be at least something defiant, and not innocent. A little bit it succeeded. Tattoo and piercing were a kind of rebellion against angelic indispensability. Claire would not dare to paint her golden curls in black or red color, but thought that it would be nice to braid a pair of braids or to make dreadlocks. Her beauty attracted admiring views of the majority of passersbys. Women looked with envy, male with delight. As far as Claire remembered herself, she always enjoineds an increased attention. She did not even fit in her head, as someone from the crowd could suddenly attract her herself, and even before pain.
Claire still felt some alarm. She was scared that something like this could repeat again. This pain…
Claire frowned. Where does this pain come from? You can understand when her beloved person or knife provokes it, but just strangers in the crowd, with whom you do not want to have anything in common… Is it not strange?
Claire remembered a flash of pain, a shortage of air, a fiery current throughout the body and a vague feeling of the unreality of everything that is happening. And then you needed to come to youself for a long time. She was afraid of repeating all this, as people to be afraid of a fluttering fire. Burned once, and the second is already afraid of approaching the flame. But it cannot be shifted at home and no longer go outside to see someone in the crowd.
Sit days for a long time for creative work – it’s great. But only the work can be crazy. Sometimes you need to be distracted. Claire thought that today it would be nice to go to the museum, then sit in a cafe. She pulled away from the fountain, and someone passing by perfectly pushed her. Claire was surprised to turn him out. Yes, it was clearly not a member of the «Whites» club, she concluded with humor. And really not a typical Englishman. The inhabitants of England are usually distinguished by politeness and cold restraint. The rude person looked more like a foreigner. What an unpleasant type! Be she a guy, and would give delivery. But the girl of a fragile physique is better not to get involved in a fight. Perhaps the guys from her school company were right, and she would have a defender with her, but Claire did not want to sacrifice the sake of it even a part of her daily independence. So what had to be squeezed.
She thought where to go: in Tower or in British Museum. And in the first, and in the second she was already many times. Clair walked down the street, throwing off the coin. Heads or tails? The coin suddenly slipped out of her hands, just at the door of some unfamiliar building, seemingly similar to the museum. Claire drew attention to how beautiful doors are. Gilded bas-reliefs on them created the effect of fabulous luxury. Instead of a handle or a head of a lion with a ring, they decorated a certain mythical creature with a triangular ring in the mouth. Beautiful and a little frightening. She spent trembling fingers over the connecting wings and the horns of a fabulous head. The chill of copper turned out to be pleasant.
«Beautiful, yes?»
Claire reluctantly nodded, not even turning to the voice, which sounded right behind her back.
«This is a water dragon – Vivern.»
«What?» She was frightened by hearing almost the scientific name of fantastic creature. How can a fairy tale study like science.
There was no one behind her. Only creatures similar to black cats ran away from a neighboring building. Such quick that they were impossible to consider in detail.
Claire entered the museum and was surprised by how it was empty. Curators and controllers were so fixed, which seemed part of the exhibits. Although she entered without a ticket, no one stopped her. Probably today is a free passage.
Claire rose through the front staircase, covered with a red carpet. She looked around marble walls with niches, crystal chandeliers, burning even in the afternoon, and bizarre tiles. In the span of the stairs rose a statue, not a typical muse or an antique goddess, and the most dragon-like maritime deity, as before the entrance. Only here it was portrayed in full growth and in exquisite clothes, with a mask on a monstrous face and watery tails, discovering from under the cloak. The sea dragon was similar to Venetian. Capturing spectacle!
Claire did not regret that came here. The museum was very different from all those she visited before in London. If only it was a museum. Of course, closed frames, velvet barriers and illuminated showcases with inscriptions exactly copied the atmosphere of the museum, but there was also something that made it forced her to feel like in the palace, full rare, and not at the exhibition.
Art galleries, uprisites, shows of historical modes – everything that she saw before, did not make any comparison with the exhibits collected here. Claire expected to see a couple of Egyptian halls with mummies and other relics of ancient civilizations, but here everything was sustained in the spirit of Venice: masks, decorations, paintings, parts of the Gondola, Domino and Baututes, are suitable for mannequins. All items here were clearly old, and at the same time something inexorably attached to the museum atmosphere of Lafcraft stories. Next to the verses and beads, the figurines of some incredible marine deities were minted. Beautiful and exquisite half masks alternated with fabulous masks and suits that look like heads, cut from the torsoism of mythical and terrible creatures. The masks pushed on Clairer with fish and dragonfle eyes, released the mermanese of the membrane, abounded by the tentacles of octopus. Next to the masks of owls, heat-birds and peacocks, terrible faces of Krakens, Mavel and the Scaly Sea Devils were sheltered. Claire did not imagine that corrigans and mermaids could be so frightening. Even the mask of the tragedy would not impress the way they are.
It was better to concentrate attention on something harmless. The museum had full luxurious and elegant items. Pipe tubes, musical instruments, capes and hats, decorated with feathers of a wide variety of birds. In one of the halls, even the golden gondola was equally placed. Velvet’s shrink was raised, and two discarded devil masks could be seen on the seat. They were very luxurious, framed purple feathers. But even they were not frightened as the masks of marine creatures. Instead of the gondoller on the nose stood the stuffed of the same sea deity in a dark cape and with an oars in the form of a water snake. Vivern – so called someone at the entrance. Claire carefully looked at it and seemed to see something vaguely familiar in it.
Sheets were lying on the stern with the words of ancient barcarol, and some parchments, similar to spells or a contract with the devil.
If it would not be an abundance of old exhibits, Clair would call the luxurious building as the horror gallery. It reminded a palace. Gilded door flaps were all open, and she could wander here for hours. But it was worth a look at some subject, for example, exquisite scheduling in the shape of a siren on the wall, and some sinister detail immediately rushed into the eyes, like seafood skulls in wells for candles. Hourglass was supported by sea skates with angrily sparkling eyes, Venice’s views on the walls were overshadowed by predatory mermaids, embittered in the bottom of the gondola, sailing over its head. Some mermaids have joined the ship, pulling out entire boards from them, others watched people from the channels. Nobody imagined such Venice. Even Claire. With all her rich imagination, she could not diversify the usual Morina with such terrible details, combine the embittered world of mythical creatures and a city with channels renovated by people. The spirits of the elements, were angry at it. Or at all who lived in it?
Claire shook her head, scattering gold curls on shoulders. Well well! What will not come up in the world. Although they say that any fiction as a necessary foundation must have a little truth. Where is the truth here? Claire stared at one of the paintings and did not immediately notice how the velvet gum fell out of her hair, rushed to the parquet.
Claire leaned up to raise it and only now noticed some kind of lowest creature, which has long watched her. A dwarf or a child? Such dark, as if the bunch of gloom. All the same Claire tried to smile to him, but the little spy slipped so quickly for the showcase, as if he was not here. Strange creature! Strange wet traces were on the floor! Claire only perplexed shook her head. Almost weightless earrings, which she usually wore in the ears, began to bring such a strong pain that Claire even thought to remove them.
The only problem was that she could not guess where the lady’s room was here. There were no pointers on the walls. Ask someone from silent curators, where the toilet is here, she was afraid. But she needed a mirror to remove earrings and a little water to wash the mischievous punctures in the ears. The mirror in the ordinance of one of the halls was found. It is located in a niche, similar to the throne, with steps erainy in the shape of a shell. The gilded frame was also made in the form of a convex shell. Claire wanted to touch it to check whether it was not the right gold, but it was scary that even with a light touch can work alarm. Crumbling sirens, jellyfish and sea skates woven in the fancy frame pattern, along with oysters, snails and Leviathan. Overweight! Claire looked into the mirror depth, and it seemed to her that she was immersed in the water. No, do not look, screamed the reason, but the Claire could no longer resist. It seemed to her that she was sinking in the mirror, and it was for some reason even nice.
Only suddenly the peaceful feeling was gone. In the depths of the mirror for a moment was someone who she saw and before. Someone is so terrible that Clair has shudder and almost fell, exciting from the mirror. Monster, not a man. But he was dressed as human. Only the shadow of black tri-fingers partially hid the ground face. Claire did not even immediately understand what exactly it seemed to her so repulsive. Only later she realized. Scars! Many deep, fusing cuts. His face was a solid ballus of scars, on which no longer left of the skin. One solid cut! Claire frowned from the rejection of something like that.
When she left the museum, she was accompanied by an annoying coat of police siren. What could happen at such an hour in the city center?
Claire sighed wearily. She was not now to the report of the news about recent incidents. After the coolness of the museum the heat immediately tired. She wanted to buy ice cream or cold juice. Ice Coca-Cola would quite suit her, but nearby there were no trays with drinks or automatic machines. Claire saw something strange in a dark corner right on the asphalt. Something red flowed out of it right on the sidewalk.
Involuntarily, Clair became interested and approached it. It was a man. What happened to this man? Claire suddenly understand that the juice, rush to the passing part of the road, is blood. But how serious is it? And why no one caused ambulance? No one was in a hurry to help at all, but somewhere still heard the wrinkles of sirens.
The victim suddenly raised his head, and Clare recognized his face. The very dark type that pushed her at the fountain an hour ago. Now he was no longer so self-confident. The arrogant face distorted toement and fear. Claire also was afraid when she noticed that his hands were cut off. With the above, the elbows dissected exactly the right hand. The one he pushed Claire with such hate today.
