Читать книгу Film About the Demon. Daughter of the Dawn - Natalie Yacobson - Страница 7

A new film was starting somewhere. He will not see this film. Anton got an autograph and ran away. Someone in red was chasing him. Although is it possible to say chased about someone who suddenly grows up ahead of the road, wherever you turn. You run, and he just stands on the sidelines. A monstrous black face with rings in its nostrils looks out from under a red hood.

Out of breath, Anton stopped. Many screens in the showcase showed fragments of a film about a beautiful demon who subdued the rulers of Ancient Egypt.

“Kings rule the world, but I rule over kings!” came the cruel voice of Alais. Pharaoh’s torn out heart beat in her palm like a living red flower. Her path was littered with bones and corpses, but she herself lived among gold.

Probably everything that was said about her was true. And the fact that her bodyguards are not people, but real ifrits. And the fact that the owner of the film studio is not its producer, but its slave. And the fact that she herself is a demon.

All these stories were so consistent with the plots of her films and ran counter to everyday realities that Anton did not believe them in the least. Usually, he approached for autographs to all foreign stars who came to Moscow. Friends who worked part-time in the crowd helped him get the necessary information about the location of the events. He managed to arrive on time in the lobby of hotels, to the doors of cinemas or restaurants where eminent guests dined. All he needed was a stroke with a pen in a notebook, so that he could then put up an autograph for sale. Many guys earn money like this – they take autographs from famous singers and actors, so that they can then sell them on Avito or on other sites where you can sell used junk from your hands.

He decided to keep Athenais’s autograph for himself as soon as he saw her, but it turned out that she took something from him. Namely, the blood tax.

Anton winced, remembering how the ballpoint pen, which he held out to the star, fell into a puddle, and something resembling blades stuck into his fingers. For the first time he paid for an autograph himself. His blood was used as ink. And now he was still being pursued.

The wounded arm hurt as if it had been torn apart with a float. Athenais’ focus was not at all like taking blood in a medical office. Her nails are the edge of scalpels and knives. It is likely that they are smeared with some kind of drug or even poison. In any case, when she hurt him, it began to seem to him that she really had not a bodyguard behind her, but ifrit.

It was pouring rain in the center of Moscow. It got stronger and stronger. Streets and highways, oddly enough, seemed completely deserted. There are few cars, there is nothing behind the shop windows. Not typical for Novy Arbat. Many computer centers appeared all around, which he had not seen here yesterday. Monitors, laptops, televisions for sale worked everywhere. A film with Athenais was shown on each screen. And the monster from this movie was walking right behind him.

Where to go? he wish he could meet or call a taxi. But everything is empty, the smartphone does not work. The battery ran out, as luck would have it. Previously, there were telephone booths everywhere, which nowadays do not exist. Their mobile communication survived. The cell phone is empty and there is no connection with the world. And all around is emptiness. Moscow suddenly turned into a deserted desert of asphalt and concrete buildings.

“Athenais turns everything into a desert.”

Did the pursuer say that? Anton nervously turned over his shoulder. The dark-skinned monster in red itself somewhat resembled the shadow of the ancient pharaoh. Why is he so attached?

Anton was not a believer, but suddenly thought to go to church. There was not a single church on the streets of the center. This is also not typical for Moscow. Many visitors from abroad like to repeat that there are more churches here than shops. And whole monasteries meet right in the center. And suddenly not a single building with domes and crosses. But the golden ankh, desert dunes and black angel wings flicker on advertising screens.

Some wretched creatures that look like starving vagabonds crawl out from under the sewers, from basements, from dark corners between supermarkets. They look like gray relics, stained with ash. And suddenly, frayed wings open behind them.

“Athenais always wins,” the dark-skinned pursuer whispers already very close, putting his claws on the boy’s shoulder.

“Let it be so, but why pursue me?”

“Self-interest is punishable.”

He already paid for the autograph in blood. Where else to punish? Anton looked around at Moscow crowded with fallen legions of demons. The feeling was that he got inside the film on the same set with Athenais. But she herself was not there. She stayed in a fashionable hotel with people. And he somehow got straight into the heat.