2.
In
Shadow (From Elektra’s
Memoir).
So I did what I had been countless times gravely warned against – took more or less a total stranger on a Shadow Walk. The excitement of being in Shadow on my own for the first time – not counting that ill-fated New Jersey affair, of course – was too much and the wine was too sweet. Dad’s fury, had he found out, would have been infernal of course, and for more reasons than one, I must admit, but he did not until much later and by that time the matter lost its relevance anyhow. Of course, I could not resist telling Viss, but I kept the Shadow Walk out of it, only the before and the after parts.
As for my companion, I did not leave him much time to think, pulling him ever forward toward my destination, and when we finally reached it, there was no time at all. I had not been back to the Shadow of my Desire for quite a while, but everything was in order, of course. The front yard had been mowed neatly, the house was lit up and the guard dog looked well fed. My roses were in full bloom, even King’s Ransom, which I had not seen blooming before had sprouted delicate yellow flowers – a fact that registered in my mind rather mechanically. I created some clouds to partly obscure the moonlight while our lips were searching for each other. His hands were impatient but gentle and the moss-covered floor in the gazebo was cool and soft.
Later on, I ran to the house and brought us a bottle of champagne and my best crystal flutes. I put just a tiny drop of the sleeping potion into his glass, not enough for an immediate effect, as I did not want this to end just yet. So we drank champagne and made love again, and then drank some more… Then his eyes finally closed and he slept, with me by his side caressing his face, and playing with his hair and crying a little, but those were not tears of regret. My prudence in memorizing the hall of his place paid off, as I was too exhausted and fulfilled, and happy, to Mindwalk the Pattern; so I made another trip to the house and fetched my drawing kit and a small lantern. An artist I am not, making a trump took me a rather long while… The sun was already up when I finished it.
The package was in the hall by the front door, the courier apparently having had delivered it during our absence. I must note that nothing came out of that silly project, which upset Dad somewhat more than my 19th birthday present’s significance could have justified. I think now that he actually intended to start mass-production of pattern-embedded weapons. I asked for a red Ferrari, but it was pointed out that we did not have suitable roads. So it was another diamond tiara or something inconsequential of that kind, which I do not even recall. As usual, the most bizarre present arrived from Bleys… But I am getting astray.
His bedroom was on the second floor, so I had to carry him upstairs. A sight to observe for the servants, were they not sound asleep at that early hour. There I stood for a long time by his bed, where I had put him, having had carefully tucked the blanket. Then I destroyed my creation. I tore the trump into small pieces, burned the pieces in the adjacent bathroom’s sink, and washed down the ashes. I knew I would not be coming back. I could have easily erased the memories from his mind, but I wanted him to remember me. I also wanted to leave him something to remember me by, but I did not have any photos of myself, and my trump would have been out of question of course. I went back to what he had called a computer room and found a pen, some notepaper, a scissors and a roll of a sticky tape. I wrote a brief note, which implied that I left in the early morning to go for an appointment. I left no clues as to whom my appointment might be with or where I could be found afterwards. I cut a lock of my hair and taped it to the note. I taped the note to the bathroom mirror where it could not possibly remain unnoticed. I shut the front door very quietly behind me, and made sure that the lock engaged. As I walked down the road catching rather odd stares of rare joggers, it occurred to me that I had never bothered to retrieve my shoes. It did not matter, the scenery around me was already shifting.
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