Speaking of priceless things. Today they brought her an exquisite jewelry box with inherited jewelry.
«Until recently, the most beautiful girl in the world wore them,» her father explained to her. «Treat them like some kind of relic.»
She didnt understand why he said that. And who was this girl? Jewelry inheritance. But from whom? Luciana did not know those relatives who, according to her father, died in the accident. But she dreamed of the disaster itself today. The girl closed her eyes, bordered by beautifully curved eyelashes. She dreamed of a fiery explosion in some temple with statues, chaos, blood and the statues came to life. It was creepy.
She felt sick from the chaos and blood. That is why she tried not to watch the news or read the newspapers. Any bloody details almost drove her crazy. Glossy magazines were all she looked at. And that was salvation. It is better to think about the beautiful, and not remember how much pain there is in the world.
She herself, too, was as beautiful as an exquisite porcelain doll, with which the curls were stabbed and dressed in a foam lace peignoir. It was time to call the servants for morning tea and croissants, but Luciana hesitated.
On her dressing table, among the bottles of lotions and perfumes, lay a box, which seemed to her to be a stranger. It would be better to put it in the safe. Jewelry was not uncommon for Luciana. She owned many expensive things, but these jewelry seemed so priceless that it was scary to even touch them.
As a matter of fact, she got the smallest share of the jewelry of that most beautiful girl who is no longer alive. Most of the jewelry was taken by Aunt Evangeline. She even squeezed out theatrical tears, lamenting how she loved her deceased relative. The tears looked so fake, however, so did the assurances that the jewelry was only for her as a reminder.
Luciana suddenly realized that she felt a sharp dislike for this woman. Not because she is petty with expensive things. No, because of these tears. Evangeline tried to cry, but her lips seemed to be laughing by themselves. Luciana almost lost her question:
Why did you hate her so much?
Its good that she didnt say anything. This would sound too blunt, if not shocking. But the question still kept rolling in her head.
She once again looked at her face in the mirror according to numerous fans, the only true jewel. Then her hands reached for the box. Under the polished lid, decorated with a cameo, the print of an angels wing was carved. Jewelry shimmered on the inner velvet upholstery, as if taken from the dragons treasury. Lucianas eye was drawn to a heart-shaped sapphire pendant. He looked like a piece of shattered heaven. She wonder if the eyes of the former mistress of this pendant were as pure blue as this stone. If so, then it is really difficult to imagine something more beautiful.
Luciana gripped the stone with her fingers, and suddenly she was overcome with such longing that it became even scary.
Suddenly, the dream came back to her. Blood, screams, a statue coming to life. A statue that moves straight towards her to crush her in his arms. Isnt this a real nightmare. But the face of the statue was beautiful. Can the beauty of the one who kills you make death pleasant? Luciana sat motionless, clutching the stone in her hands, and it seemed to her that very soon someone would come to kill her.
A strange friendship
Demon companion. Demon lover. Is there a demon friend? Blaise was spreading the deck of cards she had just found in front of her. According to legend, all Rosiers perfectly mastered the art of the card game, like witchcraft. They have always won. And this talent passed on to the family by inheritance. If he had passed on to her in the past, Blaise would have sat down with her enemies at the card table and, in a couple of tricks, would have brought them to complete ruin and suicide. But now times were different. Family legends have slightly lost their relevance. However, learning to cheat at cards would be useful. Could Damian teach her this?
He was there all the time, like a shadow. Even if she did not see him, he was present nearby. Suddenly appeared right from behind, brought some things that could be useful to her, in his own way tried to cheer. It was as if he had never slept, always watching her.
He tried to get as close to her as possible. That is why the cards now occupied her. For the purpose of fortune telling, not a game. Can you trust him? She asked the cards exactly that question. They fell out at random. The answer was one or the other. Only Damian himself remained unchanged. He was just there. And from him there was nowhere to escape, as from his own shadow or reflection in the mirror. Her strange friend. Her companion. Her mentor. Or her jailer, who is waiting for the moment when he can rip her soul out.
It was said that a strange companion always appeared next to those who made a pact with the devil. Unobtrusive like a shadow. He seemed to be waiting for his moment. People usually feel dislike and suspicion towards him, and he waits. And waiting for his own. Blaise, the thought was unpleasant. However, what is her soul worth? What is the soul? Does it exist at all? Or is it just an illusion? A beautiful metaphor invented by people to give divine meaning to every simplest life? The soul is nothing. At any rate, Blaise seemed to be more interested in Damians body. Even when he taught her to fight, something inviting flashed in his gaze, as if he was trying to lure her into bed by roundabout ways, which, however, was not in this house. On a narrow couch, covered with a meager blanket, the two of them would not have fit. He probably slept on the floor, if he ever slept at all.
When they werent fighting, his gestures were inviting, like the call of a lover. It seemed strange to Blaise that she herself did not feel any sexual feelings towards him, although he was very handsome. Much prettier than all the young people she has seen so far.
Damian got food and drink, and other necessary things somewhere. And she didnt even ask him where. It is possible that he just stole them. You could expect everything from him. There was indeed a lot of demonic behavior in his behavior.
Crazy. Cool guy. Rip off your head. Whatever you call it, but it still contained some kind of mystery. Blaise did not undertake to solve it. It just didnt bother her. The strange friend who took care of her was just an unexpected gift from fate. She took his services for granted.
If someone had cared about her this way before, she would at least say thank you. But not right now. Quite recently, everything inside her was somehow surprisingly empty. The world has become empty. Now she took everything for granted: almost without emotion and without gratitude. Events moved in front of her slowly or dynamically, like on a movie theater screen. And she just watched, as if she had become just an outside observer in her own life. And at the same time, the sensations were unusually heightened. Sometimes she slept and felt like some kind of supernatural being able to catch the quiet fuss of rats in the basement and in general every movement in a radius of miles around. Perhaps this was not surprising, because around the gloomy house where they settled, complete emptiness reigned. Its strange how such a place was found anywhere in the world. People didnt seem to have wandered here at all: even criminals and homeless people. But according to Damian, there was a rather large cemetery somewhere nearby. He loved to talk about strange things: death, resting places, revenge, the laws of harm inflicted on others. If you have offended, then you must offend in return even more, that was his morality. Blaise loved it, but as she clenched and unclenched her fist, she didnt feel the promised strength.