Nightmarish Sacrifice (Cardew) (51 page)

             
I had never felt more REAL pain!!!...

             
Never ever in my life!...

             
“CARDEW!!!!! –” I vaguely managed to detect my own piercing cry of devastation from under the numerous veils of fake unconsciousness the sharpened unimaginable anguish was suffocating me in.

             
No, it was not that it was too late for me to do anything – just that nothing had left to be done.

             
I was dying!...

             
And I had simply wasted my very last breath on the name of my murderer – this would be my last word...

             
Last ever!!!...

             
Shapeless blurred shades were merging in front of my broken numb perceptions, chasing one another with lethargic ferocity and erasing themselves into the nothingness, fading, reaching to grab me...

             
The circle of eleven turned into creamy melting gray and gently dissolved into the rich cumuli of imaginary haze, disappearing from my tortured mind like the fragile bluish smoke still lingering around like an ill-boding restless spirit long after the candle has already died into forgetfulness...

             
But what I knew for sure was that I was awake – already awake for real – and the outburst of physical pain had definitely not evaporated together with the nightmare.

             
Rather, it had become even more sharply reinforced...

             
Opening my eyes came to me as a sudden lightning strike and I was grateful I didn’t faint back into visions from the shock: the haft of a familiar knife – the very same knife from the nightmare – was sinisterly sticking up directly from my chest, the blade of the same weapon piercing my heart with the most fatal of caresses...

             
The one of death!...

             
Oh gods, this was not a nightmare anymore: the lethal knife was stuck in my chest for real!!!...

             
For REAL!!!

             
And the immense incomparable pain it was continuously inflicting upon me was so extreme it was rendering me overwhelmed – as if I was a single fraction of frosted ice mercilessly set ablaze by torches far more material than those I had dreamed of...

             
But not only my senses were burning with appalling vividness – the canopy above the bed I was resting in was covered in real, not metaphorical flames, their long twisting fingers stretching to grab more from the heavy luxurious cloth and rumple it to a handful of ashes. As if the endless black of the night was the coal keeping the disaster alive, filmy dancing glow was rising above all furniture around, the fervent fire spreading faster and faster...

             
And faster...

             
My hand instinctively reached for the wound the dagger jutting out of my chest had literally deeply marked me with – yes, it was real, perfectly real...

             
And so was the fact that I was dying...

             
The nightmare had somehow merged inside reality and had transformed it, too – having feared my subconscious visions, I had become a sacrifice in reality!...

             
The appalling gush of my own blood covered my fingertips in rich heated crimson, and I weakly pulled them away from the wound not to watch the symbolic but thus not less meaningless bloodshed – the sight of all the sinister gore over me could easily fling me unconscious, and I did not desire to spend the last several moments of my existence in paroxysm; this wound would put an end to my life...

             
Oh dear, it had all happened so quickly!...

             
Even my murderer was still threateningly hanging above me, his hand resting on the haft of the knife he had just tucked right into my heart, his posture stiff for a moment as if he wanted to fully enjoy the faint unstable rhythm of my already fading pulse. The strong but fluttering radiance of the fire around was casting a thick gray shadow on his hidden in a wide hood face, but I could never mistake the maddeningly appealing scent of Cardew’s perfume...

             
Another lightning of shock struck me and I would scream deafeningly if I still had the force to.

             
The flat metal tablet with runes Cardew was never taking off – the very same piece of steel I myself had touched so many times – was lightly swinging on the neck of my faceless executioner, and was gently hitting against his chest before reaching forward as if to greet me again, then back...

             
And nobody was sleeping in the bed beside me...

             
Cardew’s amulet, Cardew’s scent, Cardew’s bed in his own locked house...

             
And all these sacrificial nightmares I had been having all the time...

             
My heart was desperately denying the possibility, but my mind immediately identified the person who had mercilessly pinned the knife inside my chest and was still hanging above me: logically it couldn’t be anyone but               Cardew...

             
Cardew!?!

             
His strong melodious name echoed to the depths of my soul like the heavy monotonous toll of funereal chimes, repeating again and again...

             
Cardew, Cardew, Cardew...

             
CARDEW HAD KILLED ME!?!?...

             
But he was there to protect me!

             
He had finally opened up for me this night and was already trusting me!...

             
He had given me a promise!

             
He would miss me...

             
He loved me!...

             
My agonizing self was wringing in a last final attempt to stay for a moment more in the hopelessly wounded body so as to reveal the mystery torturing my soul and thus to sink me into the blissful peace of awareness obliterating all past lives...

             
Why had Cardew murdered me?!

             
Was I just his next sacrifice? Had his love been another brilliant role worthy of my applause?...

             
Or did he regret the confessions he had made to me like he had told me in the nightmare, did he want to simply destroy me so that no living creature would know about the existence of his secret torturing fears he would never reveal to anyone anymore?...

             
Oh dear, why did strength of character had to mean so much to Cardew? How could his own self-respect be more important to him than my life?...

             
Had he ever loved me?...

             
All those thoughts passed through my mind in a single fraction of a moment: as soon as he noticed I was staring at him – even though I wasn’t seeing his face – the murderer immediately let go of the knife, bluntly leaving it in my open wound, and quickly pulled back from me – his movement as he turned round sharply spilling in dead-cold waves the long black cloak he was wearing...

             
Just like the one of the executioner from my visions...

             
The exit of the room wasn’t blocked yet – as if obediently drawing out of the way of their almighty lord, the evil splendid flames were pulled aside from both sides of the door like scenic curtains, opening up to let safely out the person who left my heart broken...

             
Literally broken.

             
Drinking at once all the exciting drama I could possibly have in another hundred of years, I overstrained all my perceptions in waiting for him to stop by the door-sill and do something striking, amazing and weird – something truly unforgettable...

             
And – for the first time since I ever knew him – Cardew chose not to act theatrically despite the perfect opportunity to – having reached the door, he hurried to simply slide out, and disappeared without even turning back to see if I was alive or dead.

             
Well, unpredictability was another side of his character that I had always admired...

             
However, the play was over.

             
It had been my last one...

             
My character was left with only several seconds...

             
And almost no blood – my whole nightdress was crimson with the precious wasted fluid of life streaming from the unforgiving gaping wound, the pure fragrant white sheets stained with the mournful final breath of a tortured romance.

             
The excessive unbearable pain – both mundanely physical and highly celestially emotional – was throwing my body in last uncontrollable convulsions, strenuously tormenting each fraction of my whole being and quickly and irreversibly wrenching the life out of me...

             
Passionately furious, the flames were raving all around the place, yelling with their voiceless rage and tossing wildly in all directions, shedding burning astonishing grief and singing their victorious hymn of total dominion. Spreading more and more, they had already reached the edge of the bed, their halo approaching me as if for the most fervent of kisses, and radiating suffocating heat...

             
But it had gone so cold in my heart...