Things Not Subject To Gravity - Chapter 23: Chapter 23

Anastasia took off her shirt. Excitement lit her eyes and bashfulness colored her cheeks, both sped her breath. Her wild brown curls framed her sweet face like a bunch of tangled snakes as she threw the shirt away.
Set had been waiting for that moment for weeks. Finally, her parents were out. It wasn't the first time they could touch each other, but it was the first they could go all the way.
She didn't wear a bra. Set swallowed hard. His hand stretched out to stroke her breast. His heart pounded in his ears, pumping all his blood south. He pushed away his fear that something could go wrong and leaned in to kiss her. Their tongues tangled, while her hands delved into his hair. She fell back on the bed, dragging him down with her.
A flicker of the electrical current he had experienced a few days before ran up his spine and burst into his brain, forcing him to pull back. For a moment, he clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
Set ran a hand over his face as the weird sensation simmered down. He took a deep breath and then nodded. He didn't want her to worry.
"Yeah, just a little headache," he lied, while his hand reached back to her soft skin.
She chuckled. "I thought that's something only women could say," she teased.
Set smiled back. "Now I'm going to show you who is the woman here," he replied squinting his eyes as he pushed her skirt aside.
Anastasia didn't have underwear either. She moaned loudly when his fingers reached the most sensitive spot. While he stroked her, he bent over and claimed her lips again.
He tried to ignore the dizziness, the weird sensation he had like a wormhole was opening inside his head. He focused on the pleasant touch of their bare skin instead, on the excitement pulsating against the stretched fabric of his jeans. Her hands trailed down his body to unzip him and one of them slipped into his boxers. When it wrapped his cock in a firm hold, Set's fingers sped up, making her arch and pushing her hips toward him.
"Please, I want to feel it inside," she panted. "It's been weeks. You're driving me crazy."
Set was just waiting for her to say it. He pulled back just the time to take off his jeans and throw them away. Then, crouched back on the bed. His heart was beating like mad. He was totally in love with her.
The black hole in his head slowly started expanding. It throbbed like a living thing. Set heard some muffled voices coming from inside of it.
Trying to shake it off, he ran his hand over his forehead. As Anastasia looked up at him, he pretended to pull back his hair. Whatever it was, he could handle it. He wasn't going to spoil the moment.
He smiled and slipped over her, leaving a trail of wet kisses on her hot skin. His tongue climbed her inner thigh, slowly relishing her most sensitive part. He took care of her bud for a while, before moving up again until he reached back to her lips.
His erection sprang free, stroking against her skin, sending shivers all over his body. He adjusted his position, bringing his tip in front of her wet opening. Carefully, slowly, he plunged into her.
It was their first time. It had to be good.
Anastasia moaned louder and her legs wrapped his hips. The movement thrust him deep inside of her. Pleasure struck him so hard that he lost focus and that dark thing in his head snapped out of control.
He bent over Anastasia and closed his eyes again.
The wormhole twisted his mind. It spun like a tornado trying to suck in his consciousness. Voices growing louder from inside until a creepy vision sprung out of it. A prostitute moaning as she was banged by a slimy man—the gruff male voice making obscene comments about her.
A nauseating mixture of moss, sweat, and sex filled Set's nostrils. Chill air drifted from a door slightly open behind his back, making the hair on his arms stand. Set had no idea why or how, but he knew he was waiting for them to finish. He was the next in line. The man gave a couple of hard thrusts, making the prostitute scream and it wasn't a cry of pleasure. Then he stood to come on her face.
Set's gaze crossed the old pig's, as he left the room. The jerk smiled, still buttoning up his pants. Disgusted, Set looked away and his glance fell on the woman.
She had turned around onto the filthy bed, opening her legs toward Set. A whiff of stench made his stomach twirl. The whole scene was too weird and still too real. She waved her hand for him to come closer.
Set's eyes snapped open. Cold sweat dripped down his forehead as he lowered his gaze, seeking the comfort of a familiar face. Anastasia's smile was sure to make him feel better. His breath caught in his throat.
The prostitute was beneath him.
Set shut his eyes and slowly opened them again. The woman was still there. He swallowed back his stomach acid as his eyes trailed down her body. He was inside of her.
"What happened? Why did you stop?" she asked in a low, longing voice.
His terrified glance snapped back to her face. "Who are you?"
"What do you mean who am I? It's still me, Ana," she replied nervously. "If this is a prank you are trying to pull, I don't like it."
The voice sounded sincerely upset, but it wasn't Anastasia's. As he stared at her face, his erection shrunk, slipping out of her hold. Glaring at him was a rugged blonde woman with tired, cerulean eyes. That wasn't his girlfriend. Set wanted to run away, but his legs were frozen. He gasped in a breath, trying to control the trembling of his hands.
"God, what the fuck is happening?" he muttered, the prickling of tears in the back of his eyes.
She gently stroked his cheek. "You are feeling sick, aren't you?" she asked with concern. "If it's so, let's just give it up ... We can try again later on."
Those kind words might've been Anastasia's. Maybe it was her after all. Maybe he just needed to touch her and everything would be back to normal. Set's fingers tentatively reached for her cheek and lightly brushed her skin. It was cold and sweaty, and she had a black spot under her left eye. Ana didn't.
Maybe it was a dream. He took another deep breath and tried to control his muscles. His head throbbed, other voices resonating in the back of it. His body responded in an uncoordinated way and he fell to the side. Overwhelmed, he curled on himself and shut his eyes again.
The blonde woman was inside his head too – beaten up by the same man that had been fucking her before.
Scared, Set opened his eyes. The prostitute was still beside of him, one hand resting over his shoulder, concern showing in her eyes. Her face had changed though. A bleeding cut crossed her right brow, a black eye stood over her pale skin, and she had swelling lips and sullen hair.
Horrified, Set pulled back, almost falling out of the bed. She stretched her hand to help him, but he slapped it away. A shocked and hurt expression crossed her bloodied face.
"Julian, what's the matter? Why are you doing like this?" she asked, clutching her hands to her chest.
He finally managed to stand and step back, wavering on his feet like a drunkard until he hit the wall. Panting hard from the effort of controlling his body, he scanned the room. Greyish walls and ceiling with moss in the corners, and the spare old furniture of a cheap motel's room.
He didn't have any idea where he was anymore.
He pushed his back against the wall, just to feel something solid and shut his eyes again. He didn't want to see that woman's worried face anymore. A disturbing sound, like the distant murmuring of a whole crowd, crept in his ears. It wavered, going quieter, louder, and silent, and then exploding again. Set cringed, covering his ears. A low, dark voice slithered in the back of his mind.
Ecce adsum (Here I am), nescient. Thou shalt beest free ab mundi (from the world).
It sounded amused and chilling at the same time, profound like it came from the bottom of the darkest, deepest cavern in the world. Moreover, it was un-understandable.
"Are you even speaking to me now?" Set hushed.
The voice chuckled in its slithering, black way.
Thou shouldst be grateful. Nickums did summon me – I heed thy calleth instead, quod nostras partitiones praetergreditur et efficit ut unum flamus (because it can overcome our separations and make us one).
"Who the hell are you again?" the boy cried out loud.
Thee asketh me, thee knoweth not who is't thou art.
Set was about to yell back when he realized that he didn't know what to say. He knew nothing, neither his past, nor his real name.
Set Voland votavi te antea (I called you Set Voland in advance) to bee mine own flesh.
"I don't understand a fucking thing you say!" Set groaned.
Umbrae sunt rerum (I'm the shadow of things) humans calleth Astaroth*. Ubi est magister meus? (Where's my master?)
The words stretched and lowered until the speech turned into an unbearable buzzing. Set grabbed his head and curled on himself. He was terrified, but there was nothing he could do.
Voices emerged from the noise, slices of lives like movies cut throught the darkness behind his eyelids. A child being molested, a man weeping over his disgraceful marriage, a young woman hanged from a staircase—a series of disgraces that kicked in, overlapping each other, in a chaotic dance.
The only thing Set was sure about was that the visions had never lasted so long and the demon had never spoken so much before. It had to be a dream. He decided he would not open his eyes again. He would wait to wake up.
Then, somebody wrapped him in a warm embrace while a sweet, exotic scent enveloped him.
"Don't be afraid." A masculine voice spoke softly in his ear. "I'm here now..."
Instinctively, his eyelids flung open. The first thing he saw was a tree, then his eyes trailed around a lush garden. He pulled back and met a man's gentle, dark eyes. The stranger had wrinkles running all over his tanned skin that was in sharp contrast with his white long beard. He smiled.
Set screamed as he pushed the man back.
He slid backward on the ground until he felt something hard on his back. He balled up again, shivering in fear. His eyes were wide opened, glued to a world that spun and spun, morphing and morphing. He could ear horse hooves clopping, then cars roaring, then the wind whistling among leaves. His nostrils took in countless smells, sometimes of bread, or sweat, or urine, even the sea breeze.
He couldn't bear it. His eyes burned, his head drummed and his stomach was hit by nausea. He shut his eyes again and laid there, paralyzed, until the stranger's hand stroked his head again. He didn't lift his gaze this time. He kept his eyes shut and shrank in on himself as much as he could.
Still, he could see it—even through the chaos and the darkness.
Sybil Vain was in front of him.
Set slowly looked up.
Surrounded by total darkness, the Oracle smiled peacefully as a warm light radiated from his own body, making his hair glimmer like diamonds. His robe seemed to be woven with threads of snow, reflecting the sunlight of his skin, smooth as porcelain. Light vibrantly slightered through the golden embroideries, turning them into something that had a life of its own. On the surface of his eyes, dark as the night sea, glinted the reflection of the moon and the stars at their brightest. He kneeled in front of Set—still, immaculate and dazzling.
It was definitely the closest thing to God that Set had ever seen.
"What happened to me? Where's Anastasia?" the boy asked, bewildered.
"Wake up, Set," Sybil replied peacefully while his hand moved to pat the boy's shoulder.
It was a dream after all. Set's breath calmed down, his heartbeat slowed, and even the head spinning gradually came to a halt. The boy stretched his arm to touch the other's face. His fingers brushed silk-smooth, milky skin. The sweet, exotic smell of Nag-champa filled his nostrils.
Set threw himself in his arms like a child.
The man embraced him. He let Set hide his face against the crook of his neck, while he gently stroked the boy's back. Tears welled up in Set's eyes at the warm comforting sensation. His heart melted, his consciousness slowly drifting away. He wished he could disappear into it.
"There, there, it's all right," Sybil whispered slowly. "Now, wake up, Set." As his reassuring words slipped into silence, he pinched Set's cheek.
The boy's eyes flung open as he flinched back. He gaped at Sybil's face, half-plunged in darkness, before realizing the scenery had changed again. His eyes darted around the bedroom.
It was kind of dark, but the dim light filtering from the corridor was enough to sort things out. Set recognized the fancy lampshade, the walk-in closet, and the wooden floor. Then, his eyes trailed back to Sybil. With Set's hands still clutched to his arms, the man kneeled on the floor in front of him, a soft smile hanging on his lips.
"Everything is fine now. You are at home," he said in a low, soothing tone. "I heard you screaming, so I came to check on you—It was just a bad dream."
Set took a deep breath and his shoulders slumped down, freed from all the tension. He let go of the other and leaned his back against the cool wall. His eyes locked to Sybil's, his mouth moved, but he couldn't find the words to speak. He was still shocked by the memories he'd regained and by the demon's voice.
Sybil stood and gracefully walked to the door.
"Come," he called softly, looking back over his shoulder. As he waited there, the corridor's light cast upon him amplified his aura of divinity. "Let's have a glass of wine. I promise you that, after, you'll sleep like a child," he offered.
He wore only a white cloth, artfully tied below his waist, and falling in a straight line to his feet. His ivory hair fell freely over his broad shoulders and crossed the flawless skin to kiss the cotton stretched under the curve of his back.
His lean figure held a beauty that transcended sexual distinctions, rose above human's standards and recalled the silvery noble grace of a mountain's peak.
Unable to take his eyes off of him, Set stood on his trembling legs. Cool air brushed his thighs and, lowering his gaze, he found out he was naked. His knees still shaking, he felt awkwardly embarrassed and couldn't move anymore.
"Tonight is chill. Put something on, I'll wait outside," the man said, and with soft steps he disappeared into the corridor.
Left alone, Set fell back into his doubtful mind. He imagined he might be locked into a psychiatric hospital somewhere, stuffed with meds and constantly on a trip. He shook the thought away and tapped his feet on the floor. As he got a steadier hold on his own body and confirmed that the room wasn't shifting anymore, his muscles relaxed too. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and threw them on before he walked out.
When he got to the terrace, the cold breeze woke him up completely. The fresh, tangy smell of rain filled the air, the wood was wet under his feet and, while the chairs had been dried, droplets of water twinkled on the table's dark surface. Two glasses of wine rested among them. The crystal slightly glinting at the light coming from the living room contrasted with the dark liquid they held.
The image of blood and light mingling crossed Set's mind. It felt pleasant in a twisted way. He looked away.
The terrace was half-plunged into darkness while the city lights shone in the distance. On the bright side, the intricate arabesque made of the leaves from the potted plants attempted to play a magic lantern show on the floor. It felt as if the long, gnarled fingers were stretched out to grasp him.
Set reached the table and finally glanced at the quiet man. Immediately, his heart relaxed.
Sybil had put on a long-sleeved exotic shirt with a funnel neckline that showed his collarbones. The embroidered white top opened into a side-cut just above each of his hips, while in the middle it reached almost to his knees, partly covering his crossed legs that were still enveloped into the skirt-like cloth. A long silver chain clung to his neck, ending in a pendant that hung just below his navel. It was a six-pointed star enclosed in a circle, with six differently colored stones at each end and something like a seed in its center. The design somehow recalled the ring the man wore. His long, graceful fingers played with it as he looked at the dark sky.
Set swallowed back. Glancing at the man's elegant profile, he was reminded of the warmth of his embrace. He took a deep breath, concentrating on the fact that at the moment they both wore clothes at least, and slumped on the chair beside of him. While the other man kept his gaze on the sky, Set grabbed one of the glasses and gulped down half of the wine.
"Who's Anastasia?" Sybil asked, in his serene usual tone.
"My girlfriend—before I got my brain fucked up," the boy replied bitterly.
"Did she look like Maria?"
Set's eyes widened. "Quite a bit," he admitted.
"It's probably because of our argument today that she came back to your mind." The Oracle's glance trailed down to the distant lights of the city.
Set shrugged before he downed some more wine.
"You do like Maria, don't you?" Sybil's deep voice drifted softly in the cold night's air.
"Even if I do, I don't want to hurt her." Set ran his hand through his hair as he looked at the same distant gleaming. "What about you? Aren't you interested at all?"
The question hung in the silence for a moment, followed by the muffled rustling of clothes. Set pretended to take another sip of wine and glanced back at Sybil. The man smiled, his glass raised to Set.
"I thought it was clear where my interest lies," he said smoothly.
Set choked on his wine. He coughed and spat, almost dropping the glass too. When he managed to suck in some air and get his shit together, he squinted.
"Are you saying that you want to fuck me?" he asked.
"Well, not necessarily, but it's an experience that I've never had and it seems that we are getting along pretty nicely..." Sybil took a sip of his wine before he put on an innocent face. "It could be interesting, don't you think?"
"I don't," Set growled.
The idea of being some sort of sex toy made him cringe. Maybe Sybil Vain was his last hope to have a decent life, but Set has never sold himself. Certainly, he didn't want to start.
Sybil's soft chuckle snapped him out of his thoughts. It seemed like the boy's answer didn't bother him in the slightest. The Oracle took another sip of his wine before he spoke again.
"You still haven't figured it out, Set? We are God's theater, his fun experiment—his means of testing his infinite potential. You shouldn't take life so seriously." His eyes shone of an ecstatic light.
Set gulped down the rest of his wine and glared at him. "I don't care what we are, you just don't mess with me," he hissed, waving his glass at Sybil. "If I find out that you took me in to make your twisted experiments, I'm leaving right away."
Sybil didn't reply. Despite the boy's stare, he silently drank his wine, sip after sip until the last drop. He then stood and, snatching the empty glass from Set's hand, he headed inside. Still waiting for some sort of reply, Set tailed him, his glare glued to the man's back.
Sybil kept ignoring him, even when the boy stood beside him at the kitchen's sink. As the man washed the glasses, the only sign of his discomfort seemed to be the lack of a smile on his face.
Then, under the running water, the ring gave off a weird glimmer.
Sybil's expression tensed. His lips pressed in a straight line, a small frown appeared between his brows. The man slowly bent over the sink as if he was pushed down by an invisible weight. His hands clenched the stainless steel edges to support his body, while his eyes stared at the sink drain greedily sucking in the water.
"Tomorrow, Maria won't come." His eyes had darkened like the stars had gone to hide somewhere. They weren't looking at the sink but through it. "She went out with that dog tonight," he said, his weak voice almost dissolving into the gurgling of the water.
"Dog?" Set echoed, puzzled.
"The one that had been following you."
For a moment, Set marveled at the Oracle's powers. Then, he caught on the meaning of his words. His eyes widened in shock.
"Are you kidding me? Why would Maria go out with that Green? She told us that he's a killer and that the police are looking for him." Set scowled, showing his teeth like a defensive dog.
Keeping one hand down to support his body, Sybil slowly turned to face him. While his eyelids almost brushed his pale cheeks, his other hand moved to massage his temple.
"A dog is always a dog to me, but his persona is different now." His voice lowered, words struggled to come out like they met some resistance, even his breath sounded sluggish. "As I thought, Maria didn't notice."
While his eyes slowly opened, his hand moved from his face to Set's shoulder. His eyelids stopped halfway like the light was too strong. He took a deep breath. "It bothers me, could you please go to the cafe and check on her tomorrow?"
Set didn't have a clear understanding of what was going on, but it felt similar to his own disorder. The boy drew closer, following his natural instinct of supporting the man. He held Sybil's arm and slipped his hand behind his back.
"Go back to sleep now, please. I need to rebalance." Sybil's head lowered as the man slipped out of his hold.
When he lifted his gaze, his eyes were wide open. His pupils deeper and darker like silent wormholes devoid of any light. He was blind of Set and looked beyond him. At something only he could see.
The realization dawned in Set – they weren't that different after all.
Taken by an unexpected empathy, he stretched his hand out to reach for Sybil again.
It might've made things worse though.
Set bit his lip. He didn't know how to comfort people, least of all how to help somebody like himself. His hand fell to his side, and he stepped back.
"Alright, I'll do what you asked. I'll go see Maria tomorrow," he whispered before he left the room.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
ASTAROTH: (or Ashtaroth, sing. Ashtoreth) ancient Jewish name of the goddess Astarte, Ishtar o Inanna, also identified with the planet Venus as Evening Star (while Lucifer is Venus as Morning Star). The name was lately associated – by Christians – to one of the three (or seven) great rulers of Hell, the Grand-Duke of Sloth. According to the Lemegeton, Astaroth is a powerful Duke, leading forty legions of spirits and the 29th among Solomon's 72 pillars, referring to the genies or demons sealed by the king. If evoked Astaroth is bound to appear in the form of an angel, holding a viper in his right hand and mounting an infernal dragon. Astaroth is considered dangerous. At the moment of his appearance, the exorcist should keep him from getting closer and hold the ring at the height of his face not to be affected by the demon's poisonous breath. If the exorcist manages to stand his ground and subdue the demon, Astaroth can reveal him the truth about anything from the past, present, and future, also about his fall and the fall of all the other spirits. Moreover, Astaroth can uncover all secrets and exquisitely teach all the liberal sciences.