Chapter 25

"It is still the same as it was more than four years ago." Konstantin stood by the cemetery gates, gazing at the abandoned synagogue. "Today I have no time to indulge in reminiscences," thought Kostya, and he proceeded inside. He removed his coat, took from his briefcase the scroll and its translation, and began reading the section on preparation. Kostya acted according to the instructions, drew the requisite symbols, lit the special candles. It is difficult to say precisely what Konstantin was doing; he himself was scarcely conscious of his actions, overcome by some unconscious obsession. He simply had to do something, to undertake something—a moment's delay and he would lose everything. In the light of one of the candles, he began to read the text of the parchment.

The space of the synagogue ceased to fill with the sounds of unfamiliar words. Silence. A minute passed. "It seems nothing has happened," Konstantin had barely managed to think when he felt a powerful blow to his back. Another second, and he felt pressure in his chest; oxygen slowly began to leave him. Kostya heard a quiet, half-bitter voice:

"Are Goethe, Bulgakov, Gogol, Stoker not enough for you? Nooo... you need Me as well. 'What's given you does not entice, The serpent calls you without cease, To him, unto the mystic tree; Forbidden fruit you crave to seize.'" Something or someone was pressing him against the synagogue wall with a cane. Konstantin could discern nothing, still feeling the pain from the blow to his back. Only one question, not entirely logical for such a situation, slipped through his mind: "Pushkin's words?"

"Nooo, dear fellow... those are ours. Worthless, greedy little men were never strong in creative matters. One cannot create anything worthwhile for the sake of gain," drawled the unknown subject, having read Konstantin's thoughts, and pressing harder upon him, added, "Oh, how WE... how I despise you! I would strangle you outright, were you not my creation." The being, abruptly releasing Konstantin, turned its back to him. Kostya slowly slid down the wall to the ground. Now he could see a black figure—most likely a man—who had moved some two meters away from him. He wore clothing not of the present day, and in his hands was the cane he had just used to pin Konstantin to the wall.

"Who are you?" This was all Konstantin could yet voice. The subject turned around, casting a stern glance at Konstantin sprawled upon the ground.

"Very well..." the subject uttered calmly, as if resigning himself to necessity, "let me quote something of my own. You should know this. 'I am part of that power which eternally wills evil and eternally works good.'"

"Goethe?" Konstantin thought involuntarily, while simultaneously attempting to rise to his feet. He knew this work far too well not to recognize these words.

"Wrong again—and these are creatures endowed with reason?" A mocking tone could be heard. One more attempt and Kostya stood upon his feet. "Whoever this entity may be, it does not befit the Magister of OSPP to lie here." Now Konstantin could make him out a little better. This was a man past forty, with very severe features that in the moonlight appeared even more sinister.

"Very well," the stranger agreed once more in the same tone. An instant later he was standing beside Konstantin, twisting his left arm. "What is this, genius? What are these crooked scars? You should have cut neatly, evenly. Whom were you summoning then, with your lady friend? Well... remember! Everything concerning your lady friend you remember, yet such a trifle as which demon you summoned, you do not recall? I am beginning, truly, to take offense..." Again the mocking tone.

"Astaroth," Konstantin remembered, examining his arm, upon which three scars formed the letter "A."

"Hurrah! I thought an eternity would pass..." the demon clowned, moving away from Konstantin to his former distance, "although no, an eternity cannot pass. In this human guise one begins to speak like one of you. But what is to be done? My natural form cannot wear this authentic cloak of a lord from the Regency era of the fourteenth century." He demonstratively stroked his garments, stating, "I must acknowledge there was a time when people knew a thing or two about clothing."

Konstantin, still somewhat frightened, watched the supernatural phenomenon pacing about. "If he desired my death, I would already be dead," thought Kostya, and summoning his courage, asked:

"What does 'my creation' mean?"

"And you, I suppose, thought all this was your own doing? The Magister unearthed himself, did he? OSPP?" Astaroth mocked. "You really don't get it? I am a demon! Keeper of the knowledge of past and future! Just remember—everything was brought to you on a silver platter: investors, the right people, money flowing from nowhere. I gave you everything—recognition, fame, money, honor from every quarter. So why have you come to me again? Do you wish to learn the essence of creation? What do you want to hear? That this world is merely a dark shadow of the true one? That the creator first made us, the perfect ones, but we turned out too clever, too uninteresting, so he made you jesters for his amusement? To be honest, you sometimes amuse us too, despite his betrayal."

Kostya listened to the tirade, grasping the meaning only partially. He had already opened his mouth to answer one of the rhetorical questions.

"No, do not speak, I know. After all, I know everything," the demon stopped him. "I gave you everything, but you have come for what you believe originally belonged to you. This lady friend of yours. Oh... this symbiotic attachment of yours. What wretched creatures it makes of you all—though where else could you go?" The demon picked up the scroll Konstantin had recently read, adding, "Your entire species is to us like dung worms, except... you've learned to read, but the essence of words you still do not understand."

"I can bear it no longer!" Konstantin suddenly raised his voice, surprising even himself. "I do not know how I endured all this before. I deceived others until this lie became part of me. One moment dispelled the illusion, reduced to dust the wall of farce, hypocrisy, and lies that I had so long and diligently constructed. I can no longer lie—this lie has become abhorrent to the very depths of my soul. I need nothing; I need only her." All these words were uttered by Konstantin in a single breath.

"Yes, yes... and the wondrous moment, and the meaning of life, and I shall throw myself from the window," the demon grimaced. "Abomination. A-BOM-IN-A-TION. Now let us engage the mind. I tell you as a demon of past and present—one must not interfere with the natural course of events. From this only worse things follow. What is once lost sinks not into the past but into non-being. Do you understand? Non-being—no taste, no scent, no time, no space. But what is there to say to you...?" Astaroth waved his hand, continuing in the same derisive tone, "'Give me this! I want this! My life is pitifully short; I want to fill it with what I desire, and that is all!'..."

"Not interfere with the natural course of events?" Konstantin asked with irony, recalling what the demon had said at the beginning.

"Well, I see you've gathered some courage." The stern gaze fixed upon Konstantin.

In the next instant, something strange occurred. Another indistinct figure appeared—a reflection of Astaroth standing opposite. For some three seconds, two demons stood before Konstantin: the first, real, with whom Kostya had just conversed; the second, a reflection of the first. They looked at each other. Then the second nodded slightly to the first, who silently nodded in return. The mirage dissipated; the reflection vanished. Konstantin was still trying to comprehend what he had seen when he heard the now-familiar voice.

"I despise such moments," Astaroth stated, and turning to Konstantin, continued, "You know, you are fortunate—today I am indulgent toward human weaknesses. I shall fulfill your wish." The demon turned his back, muttering to himself, "If only for once they would heed one of their own, that 'the final goal for man should be unattainable, and the path toward it—infinite.' But no—words are an empty sound to them."

"What do you want in return? My soul?" asked Kostya, recalling films and books featuring such entities.

"Spare me your pitiful soul," the demon made a grimace. "It has long been mine—ever since the moment you decided to summon me. But I have no need of any soul. Tell me, do you, for instance, need the soul of an ant? And had I such a need, I would visit a casino—plenty of willing souls there to pledge. No... today I shall fulfill your request for nothing. I think the time will come, a day or a night, and we shall settle accounts."

"What does 'settle accounts' mean?" Konstantin asked without particular alarm. The last words of Astaroth did not trouble him greatly. In truth, entirely different questions echoed in his mind: "Will he truly do this? He will return Elizabeth to me? Is it possible that she, Liza, will be with me?"

"It is late!" the demon stated, pretending not to have heard either the thoughts or the final words of Konstantin. "I advise you to get some sleep."

The supernatural interlocutor vanished as suddenly as he had appeared. Konstantin stood motionless for some time longer. He ceased thinking about finally attaining happiness and began to regret that he had learned so little from one who could have told him far more. Several more minutes passed, and he began gathering his things. He exited the synagogue, then the cemetery, and on his way home all that had occurred seemed to him a reverie, as though in truth nothing had happened at all.