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"Open your eyes!" came the response. Our concierge, Aunt Betty, had such a voice when she suspiciously interrogated unfamiliar guests. "Look at the sign! What does it say?"
I stepped back. How could I not have noticed! To the left of the entrance, on a gray marble pointer, the engraved letters shone in gold: "Leningrad Institute of Modeling B…"
The inscription broke off there. Someone had pried out the right upper nail, part of the spotty stone was missing, and the sign was slightly tilted downward. Just think – it turns out that there are vandals in cultured St. Petersburg too. It seems I won't know until the end what exactly I'll be modeling here…
"So, this is where I need to be," I exhaled quietly and entered, closing the door behind me.
"Do you have a pass?" the doorkeeper even looked like our Aunt Betty. The same curly, heavily bleached hair and thick gaudy cat-eye glasses covering half her face. The booth where she sat was illuminated from inside with a dim yellow light, but beyond this "guardhouse" nothing was visible. The corridor was drowning in darkness.
"A pass?.. Oh, no. I'm new."
"So you didn't attend the preparatory courses. I see, a failing student. Fi-ine," the woman reluctantly rose from her well-worn seat. "Come on, first time I'll let you in with my pass, but then you should ask for one to be issued at the dean's office."
In the faint gleam, a white card with a shiny round logo flashed. I didn't have time to see what was depicted there. A green light lit up in the darkness, and the security guard pushed me forward.
I stepped into the abyss and immediately stopped – my ears were suddenly so blocked. As if I were flying in an airplane that was gaining altitude, or in a high-speed elevator rushing to the top of a skyscraper. My head spun. Hands tried to feel a wall to hold on to, but there were no walls. Neither on the left nor on the right.
"Well, come on, be bolder," the old woman grumbled discontentedly. "Walk. One, two, three. No need to linger here in the corridor. Inhale, exhale. Swallow your saliva – that's all. Look at you, such a delicate flower!.."
Out of fear, I screwed my eyes shut, and when I opened them, I almost fell again. The huge hall was flooded with bright warm light. Sunbeams passed through the tall, completely glass dome of the cathedral and played with glare on the wrought railings of stairs made of yellow metal, on the stand with the lecture schedule, on the spines of books standing on top of the shelves in the open library.
Hmm. I'm not an expert in architecture, of course, but it seemed to me that from the outside, the dome was still golden, not transparent. How did they achieve such an effect?!..
While I stood with my head tilted back, the "concierge" disappeared. Turning around, I saw two tightly closed iron doors behind me, and in front of them – a turnstile with a magnetic lock. Without applying a pass, you can't get out of here, and I don't have a pass, so I'll have to go search for the dean's office.
Despite the non-academic day, the institute was full of students, mostly upperclassmen. I was almost certain they were upperclassmen – too bold and self-confident. I nervously rolled my suitcase past them, while they, giggling, whispered to each other in low voices:
"Ohhh, the recruits are pouring in!"
"Tough as always!"
"Well, hold on, they'll show us now!.."
Ducking my head between my shoulders, I approached the information stand. The hall on the institute map was hard to find. It turns out I was now conditionally on the second floor. There was also a first floor – that one, apparently, completely in the basement. And the third – where the dean's office I needed was located.
Dragging a suitcase up the wrought-iron spiral staircases is a dubious pleasure, so first I decided to rest a bit. Especially since a soda machine was very conveniently placed near the passage upstairs. Bright drinks of all rainbow colors bubbled in transparent glass bottles: lilac-violet, sky-blue, light-blue like forget-me-nots, emerald-green, sunny-yellow, orange and… red. Like blood. No, like the red matter that I failed to taste twice today.
It seemed there were more bubbles in the soda than liquid, but my throat was so dry from the excitement that I was okay with this "oxygen cocktail".
Applying my mobile to the window, I tried to pay for a bottle, but the contactless payment didn't work. I tried several times and only then saw that there was no network here. The fancy new phone – Dad's gift for graduating school – had turned into a dead brick. Maybe something was wrong with the roaming?..
I had to take out a plastic card, but it didn't work either. As if to spite me, the thirst only got stronger. I poked the chip at the sensor, twisted the card this way and that, then inserted it in all possible variations into the receiver, but the machine, sneezing haughtily, each time spat it back into my hand.
"Let me buy it," a voice suddenly sounded from behind.
A lanky disheveled guy moved me aside. His overgrown hair – light brown, slightly shading greenish – fell on his face when he started rummaging through the pockets of his denim jacket. Finally, what he was looking for was found – a blue card with a golden logo. Exactly the same one I had seen with the woman at the entrance, only hers was white, not colored.
The machine's holder clanked, the long-awaited bottle plopped into the dispensing window and a second later was already in my hand. Unscrewing the sharp metal cap from it, which normal people pry off with openers, I drained the contents to the bottom in one go.
"Look what she's doing," someone from the old-timers noted, staring at me from afar.
"I'm starting to be afraid of them," his buddy answered with a chuckle. "We didn't drink red orgone in our first year…"
"And what, won't her head spin?!"
What are they talking about? I had to turn the bottle in my hands, examining the labels. There's no marking about alcohol content. It's not even an energy drink. Sure nothing like that can be sold in an institute!
I threw the empty vial into the trash can next to me and turned to the guy:
"Thank you," I smiled and held out my hand to him. "Let's get acquainted. My name is…"
Adjusting the large travel bag on his shoulder, he raised his yellowish, honey-colored eyes:
"I know. Your name is Niki. You've already said that. And in general, all this has already happened…" his black pupils contracted to small dots, and then stretched into two narrow slits, like a cat looking at bright light.
I froze in amazement, the handshake never happened. A chill ran down my spine.
"It's called déjà vu…" I bleated weakly.
"Jake!" suddenly came from behind our backs. "Here you are, you snake! Stop scaring people!"
"Hi, Charm. You know I don't do it on purpose."
"Oh, I wish my eyes didn't see you!" spinning the keychain with the Audi logo on her index finger, the girl blew a big pink bubble of gum with her plump lips and shook my hand that was frozen in the air. "Hey, friend! We're coursemates. And this guy, alas, is also with us."
Smiling sweetly, she adjusted the perfectly straight strands of red hair, highlighted with lilac on one side – to match the color of her contact lenses. Then she turned on her sky-high heels and, leaving a trail of sweet, candy perfume behind her, clicked up the stairs.
"That's Liz Charm," the guy with yellow eyes, now quite human-like, explained grimly. "The daughter of a local 'big shot'. We studied together in the preparatory courses. I mean, I studied, and this vixen only pretended, because in fact she had already been in her first year before."
"Another… déjà vu?" I clarified cautiously.
"Ha, no. Time loops have nothing to do with it," the guy again leaned his card against the soda machine. This time a blue drink came out. "She was simply held back for a second year."
"Is that even possible in universities?" I was sincerely surprised.
"Actually, it's not. Especially at LIMBO. But this witch," he glared maliciously after her, "is above the law. And you… you're heading to the dean's office, right? Come on, I'll help you carry the suitcase."
Chapter 3: Twin Flame
I was turning the red card in my hands, examining it from both sides. The front was engraved with the words: LIMBO. 1st year. Group "P". On the back, a golden circle shimmered with a dragon and a bird inside. The two beasts, mirrored, faced each other like yin and yang. The dragon – or rather, a long serpent with legs – mercilessly bit its own tail. The peacock – like a mythical firebird – aggressively spread its lush wings, engulfed in flames. Between them, a compass and a square intersected in the shape of a diamond, and in the center sparkled the sign of infinity – a figure eight turned sideways.
"Hey, Niki, let's go for a walk!" a bold voice pulled me out of my meditation on the hypnotic symbol glowing in the sunset light.
Startled, I tucked my new pass into my pocket and looked out the window. Third floor – not too high, but the whole street was visible.
Our dormitory – a beautiful old building with columns and carved windows, painted white, green, and gold – was located quite close to the institute. You only needed to walk through St. Isaac's Square and turn left at the monument to Nicholas I, into the courtyards.
"There's an interesting spot nearby on a roof," Lizzy waved to me. She was standing near a peculiar forked lamppost that resembled either a mast or the scales of Themis. "You can see the whole city from there! You'll love it!"
The words trembled on the evening Petersburg wind like a magical spell. Indeed, how could I not love a place from which the entire city was visible?..
I looked at my half-unpacked, lopsided suitcase. Well, I could sort out my things later. Besides, no one else had been assigned to the room yet, so my mess wouldn't scare off any roommates.
"Coming!" I shouted, throwing on a windbreaker. In the hallway, I instinctively glanced in the mirror hanging by the entrance, and it seemed to me that my already too pale blue eyes had grown even paler, while my dark hair, on the contrary, had blackened, becoming like the wing from my dreams. I shuddered, but chalked it up to fatigue or the tricks of the dim dorm lighting.
It had gotten colder outside. The first streetlights were coming on. We walked along the Neva embankment, sipping cocktails from tin cans – this time not from the institute's vending machine, but from the nearest store that only serves those who had already turned eighteen. Liz, having stayed back a year, had recently celebrated her coming of age and took advantage of it.
"On the last day of vacation, you absolutely have to get drunk," she confidently objected when I tried to refuse. "There's no freshman initiation for students at our institute. Alcohol is strictly forbidden. So consider this the only evening you can spend like a normal person. You didn't go to the prep courses, did you?"
"No, I… My parents only told me last week that I'd be studying here."
Liz suddenly slowed down. She put her can on the wide parapet of the bridge and leaned over, looking at the restless waves below.
"I see, they dragged it out until the last minute. And they never spilled the beans? Didn't tell you what you'd be?"
"No," I repeated, "they didn't say anything. I don't even know the full name of the institute."
"Well, you're not alone in that," the redhead chuckled. "Sometimes I think no one knows it, including my dad who stuck me in here."
"So the sign's been broken for a long time?"
"Ha, the sign!.." a steamboat rumbled below in a deep bass, passing under the Palace Bridge, and Lizzy paused, then suddenly smiled and pulled car keys from her pocket. "Listen, let's not talk about that. I wanted to take you to the roof, remember? Let's go!"
It seemed this wasn't her first time driving while tipsy. Thankfully, we didn't have to drive far, I didn't have time to get scared, and the only traffic cop we encountered at an intersection didn't smell trouble from afar.
We spent the whole evening and even part of the night sitting on the roof of a tall building, from which a panoramic view of St. Petersburg opened up. My savvy friend's bag held a few more cans of cocktails, which we used to keep warm while admiring first the city lights, then the drawbridges, and later the stars.
We chatted about all sorts of nonsense. About school, about parents, about pets, about where we go on summer vacations. That's how I learned that Lizzy's father is a deputy in the local council who sent her to the best boarding school near Peterhof10 since she was four, hoping to raise a prodigy. That her mother was – surprisingly – an astrologer, and had prophesied a special destiny for her only daughter since childhood. That they have three generations of cats living with them – all black, without a single white hair. And in summer, the whole family travels to places of power. They'd already been to the Solovki islands, the Krasnodar dolmens, Lake Baikal, Altai, and even the Valley of Geysers in Kamchatka.
After the third portion of cocktail, the topics changed. Liz became curious if I had a boyfriend, and since I didn't – if I had ever had one.
"Yes, there was one guy," I answered as casually as possible. "We were friends since fifth grade. Everywhere together, we even agreed to go study at the Veterinary Academy for the same faculty. We spent the last six months preparing for admission – meeting at his place or mine – and poring over textbooks, every evening, no days off…"
"And did you get in?"
"Yeah. But in August, after all the exams, I saw him with another girl. At first, I thought: must be his sister. He'd said a relative from the south was supposed to visit them. And this girl was all tanned… But when they kissed, it dawned on me that she was no sister."
Throwing the empty can off the roof with a swing, I added bitterly:
"So maybe it's good that I didn't end up going to any vet academy, but moved here, far away from him."
"Strange you didn't cut that bastard," Liz darkly concluded. Her tongue was stumbling, but from her tone, I understood she wasn't joking or exaggerating. "Should've cut him!"
Then she complained to me for a long time about her boyfriends, of whom there turned out to be so many that by the end of her story, I was already confusing their names. She said she specifically sought out various freaks – each "prettier" than the last – to fray the nerves of her perpetually work-bound father, but it always ended up with them fraying her nerves, not his – they would mock her, "ghost" her, leave her heartbroken. It doesn't seem, though, that her self-esteem dropped after all these burns and breakups.
"You know what, I believe…" she suddenly said, leaning back and resting on her bent elbows. "I believe that somewhere out there, in the future, my person is waiting for me. Our paths are just tangled, but one day we'll definitely find each other… Well, what about you?"
"What about me?"
"When are you going to look for a new boyfriend? Just don't say you're planning to stay a maiden forever now!"
"How did you know that…?" I flushed hot. The cold air wafting from the distant river turned into molten lava.
"I can spot virgins from a hundred miles away," Liz shrugged. "They – I mean, you – have too much orange orgone."
"I don't…"
"Listen," the redhead interrupted me, fidgeting impatiently. "My Mom told me long ago that to find a truly worthy man – your kindred spirit, your 'twin flame' – you need to go out at night, in the last, darkest hour before dawn, find the morning star in the sky and make a wish on it! I've tried many times, but either it's cloudy in Petersburg, or there are white nights11, or Venus is in retrograde… In short, it never worked out, but now look how clear the sky is! We have a chance!"
Smiling, I quieted down and pretended to really be studying the stars, although I actually had no idea what Venus looked like or where to find it in the night sky. I'm not ready for a new relationship yet, so I'll probably just use the beautiful legend as an excuse to be silent. Besides, I was shamelessly drunk, and in such a state, it's better not to talk much, so as not to blush the next day.
At some point, it suddenly seemed to me that one of the stars near the horizon began to flicker more brightly. It filled with either pink or scarlet light. Blinked a couple of times. Expanded – or did my vision just go out of focus?.. And then it seemed to "swallow" me in a bright sparkling flash – and immediately went out.
My heart pounded faster. Where was it? Somewhere over there, by the spire of the Admiralty12, but now the sky in that direction is pitch-black. Empty.
No matter how much I searched again for the source of the raspberry light, no matter how much I turned my head right and left, I didn't find anything similar. For some reason, I felt anxious, even a little creepy.
"I have to go!" I blurted out, jumping up. Swayed. With a groan, I held onto the antenna on the roof.
"L… let me drive you to the dorm," Lizzy struggled to extract the Audi key fob from her leather jacket pocket – it got caught on the zipper and, pulling harder, she seemed to have torn off its ring.
"Uh, no, thanks," I squeezed out. "I'd rather walk. To get some fresh air."
My heart was beating like crazy. I was shivering. Zipping up my jacket to the very top, I headed in the direction where the bright star had recently been glowing with mystical light.
* * *"Please, don't touch me!"
"'Please'? Ha! Magic words don't work here, baby!"
Oh, I should have accepted Lizzy's offer after all. Walking alone at night in an unfamiliar area of an unfamiliar city was clearly a bad idea. Or is that stupid Venus to blame? Well, it sure did set me up with a guy – or rather, four of them!
Spitting out his cigarette, a shaved thug got out of a rickety, completely tinted car to face me. Three of his cronies lowered the squeaky windows and, grinning, stared at me from inside. In the narrow alley between two old buildings, the path wouldn't allow us to pass without bumping shoulders. I stepped onto the road, hoping to quickly slip by, but baldy grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the car:
"Where are you rushing off to! Come on, I'll give you a ride!"
"No, thanks. I… get carsick," I blurted out.
Guffawing like a horse, he breathed a foul stench in my face and pressed me against the wall of an old brick house:
"Then let's do it here."
He's probably drunk, like me, only for him, it seems, this state has already become a habit. The bald man's head clearly wasn't spinning, and his brazen face easily read: "I'll do whatever I want with you, and nothing will happen to me for it."
"Get your hands off!" I shouted to attract someone's attention. Alas, useless. The windows of the residential building didn't face the alley, and there were no passersby at such a late hour anyway.
"Don't yell, you idiot!" the pupils of his bulging eyes unnaturally narrowed with anger. Or maybe he's not drunk, but high?
"Let go!" I tried to wrench free, but our struggle was short-lived. Baldy clicked the blade of a folding knife and put the tip to my throat. Now it was scary to even breathe, let alone move.
Well, that's it. How many times in my dreams did I save the world from people like him and his friends, but now there's no one to come to my own rescue. I shouldn't have gone anywhere at nightfall with that Liz. I should have just gone to bed!
A sweaty hand went under my skirt. Scratching me with a hangnail, it squeezed my thigh. Dirty fingers reached higher. I wanted to scream, but no, I can't scream, or he'll slit my throat. This one, judging by his eyes, is out of his mind – he might do it.
The asphalt under my feet went wavy and flowed, like heated air. Everything became somehow unreal.
"Is this your girlfriend?" suddenly came from behind our backs.
The hand with the knife eased its pressure slightly, and I was able to turn my head. In the unlit end of the alley stood a person in black. The face was impossible to make out in the darkness – only the outline of a silhouette. Tall, shoulders not very broad, but standing out against the athletic narrow waist. Something resembling a rifle – or even an automatic weapon – hangs diagonally behind his back. Could it be a policeman?! Or maybe a soldier? A SWAT officer? Well, or at least an athlete?..
Thoughts raced quickly through my head. But what difference does it make, really! Whoever he is, the main thing is that he's armed, which means he'll save me! My heart beat joyfully in my chest, my knees trembled from the weakness that came over me.
"Are you dating?" the night passerby insistently repeated his question.
Baldy again didn't answer. Just a few seconds of silence was all the dark figure needed to correctly assess the situation. Or did he finally notice the knife?
The person stepped out of the shadows into the lamplight. With an artistic hand wearing a silver signet ring, he adjusted on his shoulder… no, not a rifle, but just a violin case.
A sigh of disappointment escaped from my chest. Damn! Now everything is definitely lost!
"I'm not with them…" I whispered with just my lips and indicated with my eyes toward the car, not really hoping, however, that one refined musician could cope with four deranged bandits.
"I see," his voice sounded calm and imperturbable. Even, as it might seem, with a note of boredom. "Listen, I advise you to let her go. Don't risk it. Leave."
Dark brown eyes seemed black in the gloom. Long ashen hair was tied back in a ponytail, revealing shaved temples. A black fitted jacket. The collar of a black shirt was cinched with a black tie, over which hung a silver chain. An earring or even a couple in his ear – one ring above another. How old is he?.. He's clean-shaven, so it's hard to tell his age. Maybe around twenty.
Yes, definitely. Probably some kind of elegant Petersburg student-nerd. Heading out early for classes at a music college or institute. Heading out, but won't make it… Now I became scared for him too, prickly goosebumps ran down my spine.
It suddenly got colder. The rising wind drove a heap of brown, already autumn-dried leaves to our feet. Far behind the houses, in the east – where the first strip of dawn appeared – thunder grumbled discontentedly.
"Can you hear well? Step away from her, and no one will get hurt."
"Bros," the thug turned to the car, "what do you say? Looks like we've been declared war!.."
The musician took the violin case off his shoulders, leaned it against the flaking wall of the building. The thunder rumbled closer now.
"Put away the knife. And everything else too."
Only now did the bald guy zip up his jeans and hoarsely guffawed:
"Or what? You'll play me a funeral march?"
I seemed to have completely stopped interesting him. Spitting, he turned away from me and kicked the violin case with all his might – so that it flew a couple of feet and, hitting with its lid, fell. The locks opened, and a thin bow with a gleaming black handle slipped out. It rolled along the dusty asphalt to its owner and froze next to him, like an obedient animal.
Oh, you shouldn't have tried to save me, pretty boy! Come to your senses and make a run for it – yes, take those very fashionable feet in pointy "Cossack" boots with chains in your hands and run – or they'll carry you out of here feet first in a canvas bag!..
The blade of the knife sliced through the air. So close – one more step and the psycho will gut him. But the musician only regretfully looks back at the violin and sighs.
To hell with the violin! Guy, don't be stupid! Run!
My tongue seemed stuck to the roof of my mouth and wouldn't obey. I was swaying. A hot wave passed through my body from heels to head, my legs turned to cotton, I couldn't feel them at all, like in a dream. And just like in a dream, a sharp black wing flashed in the air.
Oh, how I wished all this would indeed turn out to be a simple nightmare!
"You'll be fiddling your next track in hell!" the bald man sneered haughtily and signaled to his companions with his free hand.
"They've all heard me there already," the violinist replied, unfazed.
Idiot, he's even cracking jokes!
Lightning flashed nearby, striking a lamppost and severing the wires. The lights went out. The battered car doors slammed as three sturdy guys jumped out. In the first rays of dawn, several knives gleamed and a baseball bat cut through the air. Baring their teeth, the thugs rushed in a pack at the lone black figure.