Читать книгу Albedo Castle - - Страница 6

The bed in the Mandarin Oriental hotel room on the thirty-sixth floor of the Mitsui Tower in central Tokyo had a firm, springly mattress. Richard preferred these kinds of mattresses to airy featherbeds – that one could on occasion drown in – but this time, lying down hurt. His rear end did the entire time of the flight, his lower back ached as if he were not thirty-six, but all of eighty years old … With a sigh he lowered onto the bed, laying back on the pillows, sprawled diagonally as he tried to remove his shoes by propping one foot against the other.

Alexandra shushed at him and grabbed the leg he raised over the bed, Richard overcame the urge to resist – and let her pull the shoes off. The next to go were socks, jeans, the T-shirt – which was already clean of the bloodstain on the left side of the stomach.

He didn’t want to move, he wanted nothing.

It was noon local time, his eyelids were raw, he was rubbing his eyes tiredly, trying to get rid of the drowsiness. He’ll go to the shower now – it’ll boost him … He just needs to crawl to the shower.

He lay there and stared at the ceiling, gathering his strength, Alexandra stood by the panoramic window with a view of the Tokyo Skytree, the tallest broadcasting tower in the world, hugging herself by the shoulders.

She turned.

“Should I shower with you?”

Richard pulled his lips into a smile, he had to tilt his head up to see her face.

“Yes.”

He missed her – and the long-awaited reunion was awkward and rushed. If not for that damn wound, he would have had sex with her right there on the plane – since they couldn’t do it at home because they had to hurry.

Alexandra came closer, didn’t sit down on the bed right away. Richard, in turn, kept laying and looking up at her.

He reached out.

“Anything you want, but don’t be stupid,” she said, taking his hand, interlocking their fingers.

Richard hemmed.

“Buzzkill.”

“I’m serious. No sudden moves and no acrobatics – and after, I promise you, you’re going to run and hide from me.”

“I won’t.”

His abdomen with a white square of the dressing rose and fell with his breaths, his body – a sculptor and an artist’s dream – was attractive – but he’s not going anywhere … Even if they’ll have to part again for a time, if wished, she’ll always find him.

She could find him anywhere – if she wanted to. They agreed to not see each other for these months, and only the philosophical God knew how much she missed Richard all this time.

Alexandra sighed and squeezed his hand tighter. The sun fell through the wide window onto the gray carpeting, lining it with flecks of light, reflecting off the polished surface of the table. Richard’s blue eyes, if looking at an angle, appeared to be lit up from the inside, the ends of his lashes were lighter in color.

She leaned in, her free hand trailed over his stubbled cheek. Richard pulled her to him by the back of her head, putting his fingers into her chestnut hair, he didn’t even have to sit up – she was already kissing him on the lips, hovering over him, he just held her tight as if she could leave.

At some point, he tried to roll over and onto her, but she stopped him. Her cool hands were pressed against his chest, the gaze of her dark eyes was determined and direct.

His stubble already left red marks around her mouth … Richard smiled.

“Don’t move,” she said.

He squinted playfully.

“So tie me up.”

“Good idea. I’ve never tied you up before.”

Her thigh lay across his thighs, he could flip her on her blades with a single movement, but didn’t. He placed his hands onto her back, under her T-shirt, pulling her close again.

There are fang extensions in her mouth. He seldom thought of them – he had gotten used to them almost since the beginning. He didn’t feel them at all when they kissed – even when she went down on him … Now it was as if he was kissing her for the first time, his head was spinning, he wanted to guttle her, he was already out of breath. Somewhere he found the strength to start wriggling around again, to pull her jeans off, push his hand down her panties as she was taking off her T-shirt, sitting on him in an uncomfortable pose, her knees pressed into the bed on both sides of his hips.

She almost never wore bras, and she had small breasts – but Richard liked her small breasts. He moved deeper into the bed, back to the pillows, impatient for her to take the rest of the clothes off, he pulled her towards himself with one hand, his other hand inside her. Her palms were already on his cock, he dug into her lips, holding her by the hair, exhaling moans into her mouth, throwing his head back when she started to trail kisses down his neck to his chest, to his chiseled abdomen, to his lower stomach.

Now it was he who grabbed her hair with both hands, trying not to move his hips, admiring her and immediately getting lost again, closing his eyes, dissolving.

Then he pulled her away from himself and kissed her on the lips again, she was already sitting on top of him, moving her hips rhythmically, his embrace left raspberry-red marks on her shoulders and back that will later become bruises – because her skin is prone to bruising – even under the black geometrical pattern of the tattoos … Suddenly, he gave a quiet cry of surprise through his brief moaning. He was already gasping, hoarsely, for air, she barely had time to pull away, still holding him by the shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say.

He reached to her inner thigh again, but she stopped him, pulling his hand away, kissing his sweat-soaked temple.

“It’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

They only just started … He forgot everything, he lost control. With her, he lost control – but wasn’t afraid of this free fall anymore, everything was different. He trusted her – with both body and mind – and knew she did, too. It wasn’t even about the sex, though sex with a loved one – a privilege previously inaccessible – was one of the pleasant discoveries.

In many ways, it was as if he was born again … What it’s like to finish too soon, it turned out, was also something he had to learn. Disappointment, confusion, and something of abashment – since the clarity comes quickly.

Alexandra lay next to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, Richard hugged her, touching her forehead, the wet strands of hair stuck to it, with his lips. He closed his eyes, the exhaustion came back, the pain in his side pulsed vividly.

The painkiller was somewhere in the pocket of his jacket, discarded on the entrance hall floor.

He realized that, half-laying on the pillows, he can’t even move, though now he definitely needed to take a shower. Richard huffed, opened his eyes – but only to make himself more comfortable, feeling the cool body next to him, breathing in the scent of the sweet perfume and shampoo, mixed with the smell of the car, the airport, plane, the taxi, the salty sweat.

She never told him that she loved him … It was an odd thought – uncharacteristic for him, too sentimental – though neutral, more of the realm of unresolved questions. Even he said it – genuinely, not as a loud declaration or the way it’s normally said as a goodbye or in carelessness – but as an argument, as a thesis in dialogue.

It seems the latest events, the wounds, and flights, really did exhaust him. What damn difference did it make if she said it or not – if he knows that she loves him anyway.

Richard fell asleep almost right away, Alexandra lay next to him for some time, looking at the flecks of light that shifted on the beige wall opposite the bed. The escape, the wound, riddles again, this Circus again …

Alexandra hated the Circus – for what they did to Richard and for what they kept doing – though now he was immune to their manipulations and brainwashing.

He was a tool – a plastic doll in a plastic dollhouse, with stage scenery and genius – in its cynicism – direction … Behind the altisonant words about duty and honor, evil and good, chaos and order were ordinary human motives – though at a lower level of influence from the divine.

The problem was not that Richard and his colleagues served the powers that were not at all good and order – but in that the absolute trust and unquestioning execution of order turned them from humans into meat. Meat of professional liars and seductors, expensive in maintenance but yet a commodity, high-class specialists – loyal hunting dogs regularly bringing truffles.

When they first met, Richard seemed an empty shell to her, she never knew he was a spy – but saw that he was pretending – skillfully, so well that no one would ever figure it out … But she felt that he was lying. He looked at her with his beautiful blue eyes, he followed her everywhere, not imposing, but offering – and giving help – in solving the problem … The problem that he himself created – so she would run into his arms, seeking protection.

The Circus considered the writer Stella Fracta dangerous – because of the popularity of her book about alchemy – and the popularization of the secrets of the Poets’ society. The Circus will never understand that there are no secrets – there’s only the level of engagement in the Great Work, the level of understanding and trust – in oneself and all the symbols that guide the alchemist towards his purpose over his lifetime.

MI6 is too rational to believe that nigredo, albedo, citrinitas, and rubedo – are not just words and a magic recipe, they’re obvious keys and a process that describes any task.

When Richard’s world began to crumble – without asking for his permission – he suddenly understood. He stopped being a doll with broad shoulders, a taut ass and dry abs – but without a soul; he could no more unsee what he saw.

He simply understood that he never knew himself – and when the time came to choose, he had nothing to choose from. He suddenly understood that he was robbed – when they took his self, but gave him dozens of other biographies in exchange – and they were never enough anyway.

There will never be enough wardrobe sets – even the most exquisite ones – if he’s never been in his own skin – and doesn’t know his own reflection.

Richard remembered that he is someone, besides his undercover personas and missions, only when he fell in love. Alexandra herself had no idea she would fall in love – just a year ago she lay next to him like this and was waiting when this weirdo would finally leave – because Richard North was perfect and right in every way, but reeked of emptiness.

He revealed himself – she barely had to try. She just allowed him to get involved in her game, in her adventure, to see the world through her eyes – and in the end got an MI6 agent hook, line, and sinker.

She began to love him when he stopped pretending and hiding behind masks. When he admitted that he understands nothing – and asked her to help. When he shed his artificial guises and came naked, slightly frightened of his own nakedness, confused for want of habit – without prompts and safety nets.

He’s been to hell – more than once. He’s become a Poet – and watched everything crumble around him, everything he clung onto, everything that comprised his reality, be taken from him … He passed the first step of the Great Work – nigredo – and now it’s up to him to build his new reality anew, an alchemist’s reality, his albedo castle.

Richard is impatient … He’s used to everything turning out the first time. He’s used to people falling for his disarming smile and sweet appearance, he still, out of habit, makes kitty eyes and shakes his butt when he wants something. It didn’t work on Alexandra … She sometimes wondered whether it was the reason for his infatuation, attachment, obsession – when she simply didn’t notice him, didn’t fall for his tricks, didn’t react the way he expected.

It doesn’t matter. They have a lot in common – more than just compatible traumas that forge strong connections. She has a terrible temper – and not the calmest of lives … He has a circus leash on his neck, that’s no longer a jangling chain, it no longer digs into his neck with spikes and no longer strangles, but still doesn’t let him stray far.

He won’t shed the leash – because it’s not just his job, but his craft, that he excels at like no one else.

He can be anybody – that is his becoming. He creates worlds – through himself, lives in artificial reality, pulling others into it – like a real Poet.

Alexandra watched his long lashes tremble, his chest rise and fall under the corner of the blanket she covered him with when he fell asleep.

Now, the world under the name Richard North was in danger – and whatever it was, she would find it. Whether to destroy it or not was up to Richard.