Chat with a Demon. Daughter of the Dawn

“How’s it?”

Silence again.

“Is the show in the evening or at night?” Nikita guessed to ask.

“It is at night.”

So Athenais doesn’t live far away. The clock above the computer table reads exactly three in the morning. At three o’clock at night the movies don’t go on, but at twelve o’clock they can still go on. Athenais probably lives a couple of towns away from Moscow. Then she can be reached in one night by train.

“Where do you live?” Nikita asked again, but Athenais had already passed out. He managed to add her as a friend. Would she still be chatting tomorrow?

It was long past his bedtime. He had class at the university in the morning. He would oversleep again and not be able to attend any lectures or seminars. It was all because of the chat room.”

Athenais had sent some kind of link. Thanks to her sociability, the beautiful photo was able to expand to full screen. Indeed an image of her shoulder-length was mounted with black angel wings. The wings and forearms sparkled with gold chains threaded through the feathers. Such jewelry conjured up thoughts of genies from Oriental fairy tales. What an image Athenais had! It was as if she were preparing to play the part of a demon herself.

“Shall we have a chat?” Someone called Nikita back into the chat room. Probably it was one of those ugly girls who texted him yesterday. Is it Lada or Dasha? And he was waiting for Athenais. Her name must have been made up. Probably her parents had named her after some book character. For example, Nikita’s pockmarked neighbor, a romantically inclined mother had named her Angelica, having read French novels. The intricate name Angelica did not fit in with the simple surname Ivanova at all.

What was Athenais’ last name? What is the girl’s profession? Or is she a student? Certainly she is not a lady of the night, as she did not offer to meet, and did not talk about payment. After a couple of months of chatting on dating sites, Nikita had gotten used to ignoring prostitutes, who sat online as a whole artel. They had pretty pictures, too, but always with bright makeup. Athenais in the photo looked like she had no makeup on at all, aside from the golden lashes. Do lashes and hair have a golden hue in nature? Nikita had only met platinum and natural blondes in his life, but never golden-haired ones.

“Athenais!” He typed her name involuntarily and seemed to fly into someone else’s chat room.

“Chat better with me now,” someone unfamiliar answered. The picture of the head under the red hood could have been either male or female.

Nikita instinctively answered the video call and got impaled. Someone disfigured flashed on the screen. A face with black skin looked burnt. The chains inserted in his nose and lips looked like chains, not jewelry.

Nikita tried to close the video window, but the key on the mouse wouldn’t work. And the demonic face was making faces and breathing ash.

“There was a huge fire,” was a mechanical voice from the chat. “We’re all burned, but you’re not. Unfair!”

Nikita tried to turn off the computer itself and burned his fingers, as if he had touched a bare wire. He did not understand what he could burn himself on a desk that did not even have a lighter. The computer froze and then shut itself down. This had never happened before. The screen with the disgusted face went out instantly. The desk lamp went out, too. The power must have gone out. It happens very often. His father used to get indignant and loud in such situations. Why, he said, does he pay the electric bills when there are regular outages? Fortunately, Nikita lived alone now. Unlike his father, he understood that it was useless to complain. The electricity would turn on by itself after a certain period of time, and consumers’ complaints would simply be ignored.

Sitting in the dark became eerie. Someone’s claws were scraping against the parquet. All the rats and mice in the apartment building had long since been eliminated, but it felt as if animal claws were scratching the cabinets, the table, and even the concrete walls. Could it be the claws of an angel?

It felt like Athenais was near, and her nails were scratching some kind of hieroglyph on his heart. Her fingernails were tearing at his flesh to expose his ribcage and reach his heart. And someone monstrous in a red hood silently watches.

Surprise

Nikita woke up with the idea of buying a red rose on a long stem, tying it with a purple bow, and presenting it to Athenais.

He wiped his eyes dry and remembered that he hadn’t been able to arrange a date yesterday. But he’d slept through class. Six classes had gone by without him. He was a truant. And who wouldn’t be a truant after sitting up half the night in a chat room?

You either have to study or you have to socialize. It’s not possible to do both. How often his mother used to say that boys who study poorly are bound to go to the army. And the army would be worse than prison.

His mother’s threats were more frightening than all the demons of hell, so Nikita paid no attention to the ugly scratches on the walls and furniture.

It was too late to go to the university. It was five to four on the clock. He wouldn’t even be able to make it to the last lecture, because it takes at least an hour and a half to get there by transport. He has to wait for the trolleybus first. Then he took the subway. He lives on the very outskirts of Moscow. It’s a long way from here to the center. It would be good to switch to online learning, and sometimes it seems that the journey to the libraries and classrooms takes much longer than the classes themselves.

It’s a good thing his mother was on a business trip. Otherwise he would have been in trouble. Mom loved to make a fuss and throw tantrums that made Nikita’s and the neighbors’ ears hurt. In apartment buildings, you can hear perfectly well what they do next door. Here, to keep your secrets, you should talk very quietly or not talk at all, and communicate in a chat room. No one will eavesdrop on chat.

But abusing chat can get him expelled from the university.

Nikita put the kettle on the stove to make tea and started looking for something to make sandwiches with. There were no scratches on the kitchen walls. They remained only in the room where the computer stood, as if a werewolf with claws of steel had prowled there during the night. An ordinary animal would not have been able to scratch through the concrete walls.

As the kettle heated, Nikita studied the scratches. It was as if they were folded into hieroglyphs.

The scratches were blackened around the edges, as if they had been burned.

Nikita looked away from the scratched lines. A threatening phrase came to mind:

“We’re all burned! There was a huge fire!”

It felt as if it was not an ordinary fire that had burned down some building, but a fire that had engulfed the entire planet.

The kettle was boiling. If it hadn’t come with a whistle, Nikita wouldn’t have even noticed. As he reacted to the whistle, there was almost no water left in the kettle. Nikita managed to burn his fingers. You have to be more careful when you turn on the stove, or you’ll end up with a big fire at home, too.

Before leaving for a business trip, his mother filled the refrigerator with food that she personally thought would be good for him. On the shelves were pickled jars of sauerkraut, dairy products, kefir, sour cream. Stacks of canned fish and canned stew were lined up in the kitchen cabinet. Nikita did not consider all this to be edible food. He would like pancakes or hot pelmeni now. He could find packs of dumplings in the freezer, but he would not dare cook them himself. It was his job to fix the computer or fix the furniture, but he had no culinary skills. There was a quarter of a loaf of rye bread in the breadbox, and on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator there was melted cheese. He could make a sandwich.

Nikita casually glanced at the calendar on the wall. The flip pages were torn, as if by claws. The date of his birthday had been torn off. He had lied to Athenais, writing that he had already turned twenty-two. In fact, he hadn’t turned nineteen until this September. But admitting to girls that you are too young is not a good idea. Pretty girls are more willing to meet those who are older.

There are scratches on the wallpaper in the room, too. What the hell! His mother would swear when she arrived, thinking he’d done something naughty.

It quickly became dark outside the windows. Night Moscow lit up with bright evening lights and neon signs. Nikita sat down at the computer. Athenais wasn’t in the chat room yet. But the link she had sent was gone. Nikita decided to follow the link. Maybe Athenais had her own personal website or blog. He was in for a surprise. The link was to a movie.

Could it be her favorite movie? Is it a good sign that she sent the link? If a girl wants to show you her favorite movie, it means she likes you!

Nikita racked his brains and got excited, as it turned out prematurely. The movie turned out to be creepy. It was a horror against a historical backdrop. The plot included kings, wars, extraterrestrial epidemics and a beautiful golden-blond angel, who actually turned out to be a demon. The angel was played by Athénaïs.

Charades

Athenais didn’t show up in the chat room until after twelve. Nikita’s head was already spinning from the abundance of impressions. Images of the scary movie were swirling around in his head like a black vortex. The horror movie was addictive and shocking. It was about the magic brought to earth by fallen angels and the leader of the fallen angels who ruled the world through the kings enchanted by him. Athenais had a fateful role.

“What did you think of the movie?” A chatty acquaintance began without greeting.

Should he honestly admit to her that the movie shocked him or come up with a more flattering review?

“Scary! Is this the movie you rushed to see yesterday?”

“No, it’s not. There are a lot of movies in that genre.”

“Is it in the horror genre?”

“It is in the angelic war genre.”

“I haven’t heard of that genre.”

“It’s better to see than to hear.”

The conversation was looking more and more like a game of charades. How agonizing is it to sit at your computer and not know who is communicating with you on the other side of the screen? Yes, there is a dazzling photo, but who is hiding behind it? Is a girl who has made a career in film, ready to communicate with an ordinary Moscow boy. He is penniless. It’s more like a practical joke.