Natalie Yacobson - Chat with a Demon. Daughter of the Dawn

“Shall I wave my hand at you too?”

“Don’t do that! I’ve already made sure the video of you wasn’t pre-recorded. Otherwise you wouldn’t have fulfilled my request.”

“Are all Moscow guys so suspicious?”

“Are all angels so mysterious?”

Nikita could have admitted to the fact that he’d already picked up a few jokes in the chat room, but it wasn’t comfortable. Athenais was looking at him with serious, wise eyes that changed color every minute. She must have special color lenses with a chameleon effect.

“You’re alive! You didn’t die in the terrorist attack! I’m glad.”

“What if you’re glad for nothing?”

Athenais waved her hand, which was studded with fancy rings.

“Good night!”

“But it would soon be morning.”

But Athénais had already passed out, moving her winged shoulder smoothly one last time, as if in flight. The chat went out, but the feeling that the angel was still around remained.

Nikita dreamt of a golden winged statue, devoutly worshipped by priests in scarlet robes. It stands on a pedestal in the center of a stone hall, and the crowds of idolaters around it somehow resemble modern fans. Nevertheless, they do not behave in a modern way. They fall down in front of it, they bow down, even smash their foreheads on the stone floor. Only people from ancient times can worship a deity in such a way, so why does he associate the ancient statue of the goddess with a modern movie star, and the priests with her fans? Is he going crazy? Or is it impossible to go crazy in a dream? After all, it is a dream!

Nevertheless, the feeling in the dream is so realistic, as if the dream is happening in reality. It seems that if you stretch out your hand, you will touch the golden goddess. The statue shines like the sun. It hurts his eyes.

Nikita has the feeling that he is inside a movie, not a dream. It’s unaccustomed, like a movie set, but there are no cameras around. The priests are beating their bows, surrounding the statue. And suddenly the statue comes to life, steps down from the pedestal, tearing apart the people who were brought to sacrifice to her. The goddess is not an idol, but a living being.

The dream ended abruptly. Nikita was disappointed to see the dirty ceiling of his apartment instead of the magnificent vaults of the ancient temple he had dreamed of. He wanted to go back to the land of dreams. The dream ended just as the deity’s golden fingers reached for his own throat. Nikita didn’t even realize who he was in the dream: a victim, a priest, or a bystander.

For the first time he had the feeling that he was watching a dream, as if it were a movie.

The apartment was empty. His mother would not return from her business trip for a long time. She rarely called, so as not to waste long-distance calls. His father had started a new family long ago, but at least he was paying his son’s education bills. And that’s good.

But the bills from Moscow Power Supply Company would have to be paid he. The month’s debt would probably turn out to be considerable. The computer was on all night, waiting for another chat with an angel.

Nikita woke up to find that he had forgotten to turn off his computer, and it had been on all night. He wished it had not broken down altogether. He certainly did not have enough money for a new computer this semester.

Actually, the computer was needed to type essays and term papers, but it was not used for its intended purpose. Why write a term paper when you can chat.

There was a real angel in the chat room. Athenais is an angel. Just as religious people wait for divine visions, Nikita waited for a chat with her.

How nice it would be if she were really winged and could fly to him right now, knocking on his apartment window. He lived so high up that only an angel could reach his window.

Nearby, the wings rustled. This is no longer a dream! Someone winged nearby, and not in the window, but right in the apartment.

“Athenais!” Nikita lifted his head from the pillow and groaned. Someone’s creepy shadow rushed across the room. A floor lamp fell and went out. Someone was treading on the carpet quietly, like a cat.

“Who’s there?”

The question must have sounded silly. Who could break into a locked apartment? He just seems to. Athenais movies gave him an imagination.

The familiar scraping sound reached his ears again. That was the sound of claws scraping against concrete walls.

Nikita tried to see something in the darkness. He should have kept the curtains drawn. Then the glare from the lanterns and the neighbor’s glowing windows would have been enough to see who was in the room.

Nikita didn’t believe in ghosts. Besides, there was no room for a ghost in a cramped Moscow apartment. The room barely had room for a sofa and a closet. The guest would have nowhere to go.

Probably, the guest decided so, because he suddenly sank down on the couch. Nikita shuddered, he could not breathe. Someone heavy covered him with his body. Someone’s claws squeezed his throat. It would have been better if they had left their fingerprints on the furniture, the refrigerator, and the plywood walls, just like before. The walls would take the damage, but a man’s throat was so easy to cut.

“What do you want?” A helpless croak came from Nikita’s lips instead of words.

The creature, nestled imposingly on top of him, descended as if from the ceiling. It was heavy, clawed, and seemingly winged. Something like wings fluttered precisely behind its back.

Something crumbled on Nikita’s cheek. It tasted like ash! Where would ashes come from in a room with no candles, no matches and no lighters? It’s not like an old palace with a fireplace and something was burnt recently. The ashes must have fallen from an unknown creature.

The computer screen, long ago switched to economy mode, suddenly lit up, as if someone had moved the mouse. In the glare from the glowing screen, Nikita saw a hunchbacked or winged creature pressed against the sofa.

It was a demon with wings, burnt and crumbling with ash. At least, that’s how demons are depicted in scary trial paintings and horror movies. Several more of the same creatures wandered around the room. Somehow there was enough room for them. Two of the demons sat on top of the closet, clawing at the teddy bear that had been left as a memento of their childhood. The other demons were tearing off the wallpaper with their claws, as if they were looking for something underneath it. They did not speak, only hissed. One demon’s claws scratched at a keyboard. It looked as if it and its companions had emerged from inside the computer.

How was it that the demons came after the angel? Nikita had been waiting for Athenais, and here they were.

“Young, handsome, not burnt…” the demon’s voice suddenly hissed above him.

Could the creature really be talking?

It ran its claws across Nikita’s chest, leaving holes in his pajamas.

“I was like you, and then I met her,” the demon whispered, leaning very low over Nikita.

Hell was breaking loose in the demon’s eyes. His eyes were red as coal in a furnace and creepy, but there was a modicum of intelligence in them. Somehow that was what made the demon so frightening. If he were just a monster, dumb as an animal, he wouldn’t be so scary. The very fact that an ancient mind was trapped in a mutilated, burnt body was frightening.

The demon’s claws gripped Nikita’s throat again, but for some reason they couldn’t strangle him, only briefly rendering him unconscious.

Nikita woke up quickly, but the words, hoarse from the ashes, were still ringing in his ears.

“I believed in angels. I fought the devil, but the devil became a movie star, and I loved him.”