The tight embrace of death

By EDGARS AUZIŅŠ

When Valeria received an offer to look after the plants for a reasonable fee while the owners of the house were on holiday, she couldn't be happier. The cottage is located in the same village where her uncle had recently taken a job as a watchman. The windows of the house overlooked the fence of the estate he was guarding. She thought it was a good sign, especially as their small family was suffering from poverty. However, the uncle's partner turns out to be a strange kid who opens doors to someone invisible at night, and the uncle sees a black woman who strangles him in his sleep. Lera's situation is even worse... every night at exactly 10 o'clock mysterious people in masks and black clothes come to her fence. Intuition suggests that their goals are by no means peaceful.....

• Language: English
• Publisher: EDGARS AUZINS
• Release date: Jul 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227758408

EDGARS AUZIŅŠ

Dzimis 1989. gada 22. decembrī. Absolvējis Rīgas Juridisko koledžu. Profesijā nav strādājis, bet apguvis programmēšanas prasmes un pašlaik ar to nodarbojas. Kopš 2022. gada ir personīgā uzņēmuma vadītājs, kas nodarbojas ar transporta pārvadājumiem, kā arī programmēšanu. Dzīvnieku, īpaši suņu, mīļotājs. Born 22 December 1989. Graduated from Riga College of Law. Has not worked in the profession, but has acquired programming skills and is currently working in it. Since 2022 he has been the CEO of his own company, which deals with transport transport as well as programming. Lover of animals, especially dogs.

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Prologue

On this fabulous morning, the Vorontsov-Dashkov estate in the village of Bykovo was taken over by a thick white fog, inevitable, mysterious and ominous, as if it wanted to hide something bad happening behind its veil mask from prying eyes. However, any person, having penetrated under this milky cover, would have seen only two people, one of whom stood on the porch of the once luxurious, but now slowly falling into decay red brick palace, and the second, yawning lazily, opened the door for him. But maybe the fact is that not everything can be seen with ordinary human eyes? What if an invisible evil lives within these ancient walls?..

My name is Pavel Petrovich, a tall man of uncertain age introduced himself gloomily. Three days of coarse stubble, regrown hair bristling on top of the head, bags under the eyes and red streaks on the cheeks and nose. Clearly, this one is drunk too. Sashka’s dad drinks, and he can spot alcoholics, even former ones, a mile away. Thank God, the new arrival did not reek of fumes; he at least tried not to drink for several days before his first shift. But how long will it last? – You can just Pavel. The eldest sent me to you, Semenych. He said you will tell everything.

- Yes, my name is Alexander. – Sashka stepped aside to let the man inside. – Semyon Semyonovich is busy today, he told me to give instructions. But I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks!

Sashka chuckled to defuse the situation, this big man was too stern and sad, and the big man himself carefully studied him with swollen eyes. Young and perky, twenty to twenty-five years old. We’ve seen such people, Pavel thought. Now you’ll find out what life is, and you’ll sing differently.

- Shurik, that means... Well, we’ll get to know each other. – And he suddenly smiled, revealing an incomplete row of yellow-gray teeth.

Sashka didn’t like this treatment, but he didn’t want to spoil his relationship with his new fellow guard, so he kept silent. If this one lingers, he will somehow hint that Shurik is not nice to him. Like Sanya and other common people’s derivatives from his name. If you don’t want to call me Alexander, call me Sasha, what’s wrong? Sasha is an official abbreviation that will not offend anyone.

He decided to first take the new guy to the buffet, show him the table, refrigerator, kettle and microwave.

– Here we have lunch and drink tea. Here before, in Soviet times, there was a sanatorium for tuberculosis patients, do you know? – Pavel Petrovich shrugged his shoulders vaguely: either he didn’t really know, but he heard something like that, or he didn’t care. Here, Sashka almost didn’t lose his breath, there was a dining room in this spacious room. And then there’s the kitchen, he pointed with his hand. But now it’s empty, just bare walls. And here the tables and chairs have remained since then, he pointed to the furniture. Not all, of course, but it’s definitely enough for the two of us, Alexander chuckled again and noticed some fleeting movement of the muscles of his counterpart’s face. Sasha was not strong in non-verbal communication, but with some inner instinct he understood that this facial expression meant hostility, the big guy just immediately tried to hide it.

Then Sasha led the new employee into the corridor and led him to the stairs. There was perfectly preserved stucco on the domed ceiling, and mosaic tiles with an original design underfoot - all from pre-revolutionary times, but the new worker was not at all interested in this. He almost didn’t move his eyes around, his whole indifferent appearance said: as long as they pay, and then at least put him to sleep in the hayloft, it doesn’t matter.

Alexander’s great-grandmother, who lived a long life, despite all the hardships of fate, often told him that they came from the nobility, so from childhood Sasha loved estates and palaces, could spend hours looking at interiors in the Baroque and classicism style on the Internet, and when he first visited the Hermitage ", did not go out for a long time, slowly wandering through the halls, looking with a greedy gaze at the boudoirs, gilded columns and bas-reliefs, malachite vases and the throne of Peter the Great. And here he felt almost like in a museum. However, being a very smart guy, he knew that culture and art are not important for everyone.

There’s no TV here, he told the new guy, just in case, and he sighed very loudly and drawn out. It's clear! It makes no sense to talk to him about the pseudo-Gothic church two steps from the palace. And Sasha trained almost every morning - he ran up and down the light gray stone steps that surrounded the entrance on both sides and created a semblance of an arch. Twenty-five steps on each side. After practicing, he always walked away and contemplated the tall temple, now inactive due to restoration, the architect of which, as far as Alexander knew, was the brilliant Bazhenov. The last owner of the estate, Count Nikolai Ilyin, built a bell tower here (now covered with a net) and for many years was the headman in the temple (then it was called the Nativity Church), and his wife Ekaterina Andreevna founded a school here for rural children, the only one in the entire district, and supplied it with textbooks and firewood for the winter so that the children do not freeze. It is clear that the locals literally prayed for this couple, especially for Catherine. Only it ended badly: the Bolsheviks did not spare anyone.

Come on, I’ll show you where we sleep here.

Sasha led the man along the main staircase with white square columns and figured balusters, perfectly combined with the soft pink walls, to the second floor, from there to the end of the corridor - to the former ward of tuberculosis patients, and even earlier - the bedroom of Larion, the son of Count Vorontsov.

The beds are also left over from the sanatorium, Alexander pointed to two iron beds with a spring mesh, on top of which lay thin dirty gray mattresses with red stripes, apparently also left over from Soviet times. We’re putting the pillows and linen in the closet, he now led Pavel Petrovich to a shabby wardrobe with a crooked door.

We should fix it, the man said with slight mischief, as it seemed to Sasha.

Who will be? he chuckled, preparing to defend himself. Now this lout will say, why have you lived here for so long and haven’t fixed it, and will force him to call his boss, but the big man surprised him.

- Bring the tools, Shurik. I'll do everything right now!

* * *

The tools were found in the storeroom. Pavel Petrovich, however, fussed for a long time, and Sashka had never heard so much swearing in one short hour. He was from what is commonly called an intelligent family, despite the fact that my dad loved to drink. But he was a peaceful alcoholic; when he got drunk, he immediately went to bed and never allowed himself a single swear word. However, Sasha understood that people with higher education and those who gravitate towards art and correct speech rarely become watchmen, so he reconciled himself in advance with any partner whom fate would give him. And this one, it seems, will be better than the previous one... Although he is rude, and a drinker, and serious, he is economical. During Sashkin’s first shift, their electric kettle broke. His partner couldn't do anything with him. And Sasha too. But while we got through to the boss, he brought a new one... It’s cool here, the heating has already been turned off, and the humidity here is high because of the ponds and the river. And the estate stands on a hill, blown by all the winds. They saved themselves with hot tea, in short. And due to an unexpected breakdown, that shift turned out to be uncomfortable. And so, while Pavel Petrovich was checking the functionality of the furniture he had repaired, Sashka was seriously wondering whether his new partner would be able to resurrect the electric kettle if such an opportunity happened again.

- Well, what else do you have here? Show me.

It was an unclear question. In general, this whole Petrovich was incomprehensible to Sashka. What did you mean, what else is there that is not working and thirsty for repair, or what else is included in the job responsibilities?

Alexander did not ask again. I just decided for myself that it was most likely the latter, and continued talking about work:

– Every three hours we make a round. There are a lot of inadequate youth in the village. They have nothing to do. They run here and break windows.

- When? – Pavel asked abruptly.

When do they run or when do they go around? – Sashka really wanted to ask again. The strange manner of communication of his new partner began to put a little pressure on him.

– We always do a walk-through before handing over a shift. And then every three hours a new shift starts, and so on until nightfall. But you know how it happens... Sometimes we miss it. If you come across an interesting book. – Pavel’s eyes widened. Apparently, he wanted to ask again: A book?! - Well, or while playing cards you don’t notice how time passes...

- Can you play a goat? – Petrovich immediately inquired, putting his hands on his hips. As if it was some kind of test. Sashka nodded timidly. - Let's work together! – now the newcomer chuckled and smiled contentedly.

* * *

It was getting colder outside, the wind was picking up speed, as if competing with Achilles in speed, but the fog gradually began to recede. When Pavel Petrovich first arrived at the estate from the nearest town near Moscow, where he lived with his mother and niece, he could hardly discern the road ahead. It’s good that this Gothic temple, or whatever it’s called, is quite high, and only by these turrets with crosses did Paul manage to navigate where to go. There was just a gate near him, and on the territory of the estate Petrovich was already walking, as if into the light of a beacon in the darkness, to another tower, which later turned out to be part of the palace.

Now, three hours later, they were making their rounds, and visibility was much better. The milky-white haze seemed to understand that there was no point in competing with the wind, and began to quickly retreat until the formidable Zephyr crushed its sides.

And here were the stables, the boy said with inspiration, pulling his black cap lower over his light brown bangs. How much warmth there is from her, Pavel wondered, but did not ask. Why mind your own business? At first he tried to hide his head under the hood, but the wind immediately blew it away. And Paul gave in as quickly as the fog. The wind, without knowing it, won all the battles today. And over there, the guy continued, pointing his finger at the wooden two-story houses in the distance, there are buildings built for the sanatorium. Now they are empty, there are barn locks on the doors. But the youth here have already painted a couple of walls... - Shurik sighed. - In general, you definitely need to reach them in order to scare away the hooligans. You see, there are real thickets there. Teenagers sometimes hide in them.

Just two weeks ago all the branches were bare. However, at some point it suddenly became warmer, it rained, and nature changed. Now all these wild bushes surrounding the estate were practically invisible, and anyone could really be in them.

They slowly reached the desired buildings. Shurik pointed somewhere to the side.

And there were greenhouses here. Before the revolution, that is. Pineapples, cherries and asparagus were grown here, can you imagine?

And I’m growing a cactus on the windowsill, Pavel Petrovich answered casually, as if mocking.

Sashka blinked a couple of times, as if not believing such a comment. Then he asked:

- And How? Growing?

Scratching the stubble on his chin, Pavel answered lazily:

- Slowly.

But there is little that can confuse Sasha. With a calm expression, he turned ninety degrees and again pointed his finger somewhere:

– There was a music salon over there under Count Vorontsov.

Pavel was forced to return his eyes to the wooden buildings near which they stood. Something was out of whack, something was wrong... Or did he just imagine it?

He looked confusedly at the windows, and then...

- Who is this? – he asked Sashka.

A vague silhouette of a woman in black could be seen in the second floor window.

- Where? – my partner didn’t understand.

- Yes, there you go! A man!

Pavel looked at Shurik as sternly as he could, because if this is revenge for the cactus, then it’s pretty stupid. You need to understand when you can tease and when you can’t. Still, despite all his shortcomings, Pavel took his work quite seriously. Especially this one. He recently started a new life and immediately grabbed the offered place, not caring about the inconvenient schedule (every day every other day) and the distance from the city. However, the second was even an advantage: away from the city - it meant away from his former friends, with whom for some time he did not want to have anything in common.

However, instead of the expected grin, he encountered sincere misunderstanding. Then Paul turned back to the building. There was no one at the window anymore. Damn... Hoping that he wouldn’t be mistaken for a madman, much less an alcoholic in yet another delirium, he suggested:

– Probably, it seemed to me. Are we going back? Or are there more objects that we should check?

– In any case, you need to inspect all the locks and windows. What if someone really got in?

Pavel nodded approvingly. He was glad that the boy had a responsible approach to his job responsibilities, however, he found himself simply unable to take a single step forward. Having felt his pockets, he found cigarettes with a lighter, and while the younger one went to check if the barn locks were broken and if the glass on the windows was intact, he stood and smoked, pretending that this was the only reason he was not walking with him. Not everyone likes to smoke on the go. Unfortunately, the pack was almost empty. He did not work for a long time, and his mother bought him cigarettes. But, giving him the whole block last time, she swore that this would be the last time. And in the block, as he remembered, there was only one pack left. Will he make it to his salary?

- Shurik, do you smoke? - asked the boy when he checked all the buildings and returned to him with positive news: everything was intact.

The boy winced and shook his head. Apparently, he has a negative attitude towards smoking, Pavel concluded. Otherwise, why should he make faces?

– Is smoking allowed in the building? – Petrovich guessed.

- You can do it by an open window. Kiryukha from another shift smokes. We even have an ashtray on the windowsill, you probably haven’t noticed.

It would be better if I got on the shift with him, Pavel thought, sighing sadly on the way back to the main building. If only there was someone to shoot at!

Maybe we can change something?

But Pavel knew that he was being hired to take the place of Alexander’s partner, who suddenly ran away with almost no explanation in the middle of the night. The head of security was a casual acquaintance of his former boss at the plant where Pavel worked as a security guard. When he realized that he urgently needed to change his life, completely redesign it, like a suit tailored for another person and absolutely unsuitable for him, he called all his friends (normal, non-drinkers) with a plea for help. He was drowning and dragging his family to the bottom. He only had two people left on this earth, and he was ruining their lives. There was no time for pride and no time for laziness. And then at night the long-awaited call came. He was told to be here at ten in the morning, when his shift began. True, he waited a long time for a suitable bus and finally arrived at the beginning of ten. The last shift had apparently already gone home.

– Why did your former partner leave? – he asked Shurik.

He answered reluctantly.

- Yes... This... happened. – A strong gust of wind swallowed part of his interlocutor’s remarks.

- What? – I had to ask him again.

- Let's go...

Since they were already approaching the palace, Alexander decided to finish the story inside, without extraneous noise.

Turning on the brand new electric kettle, he reluctantly continued:

– Philip Matveevich often screamed at night. He woke me up..." Sasha sighed, as if he was about to say a bad word, but restrained himself. – I was tracking down some Black Woman...

- What? – Pavel jerked his hand and turned the mug over. It's good that it was empty for now.

He remembered the thin, flexible silhouette in the second-floor window behind the barn doors closed with a lock.

- Yeah, that's what he called her.

An unpleasant chill ran down Pavel's spine.

-Where did he see her?

- Yes, everywhere. Mostly in the palace. He said that there was a shadow in the passage. I say, it’s night, it’s dark, you imagined it. And he: The emergency light in the corridor is on! I can see her perfectly! One day I got up - I wasn’t too lazy - and walked over, my bed was near the window, and I couldn’t see who was there in the aisle. And what do you think?

- What? – Pavel asked with bated breath.

- Nothing! There was no one there!

- Clear. Didn’t he see her near the wooden buildings?

Pavel tried to pass off the question as idle curiosity, but it became clear from Shurik’s face that he had failed. Too much specificity. It’s a pity that Pavel doesn’t have enough stars in the sky, he’s simple-minded and a little slow-witted. In any case, that’s what kind teachers told him at school. As an adult, he, of course, never heard people say this to their faces, but he knew that some smart people said that about him behind his back. Pavel was sure that having too much intelligence was of little use, only trouble, and in conversations with all these show-offs, he always referred to the title of Griboyedov’s most famous work, but now, in the second half of his life, for the first time he regretted his shortcoming. Another person would have been able to extract information from a harmless boy in such a way that he would not understand anything. And only Pavel, a fool, thought of asking directly.

– I don’t remember exactly. And what? Did you see something? – Fear appeared in Shurik’s eyes.

- I don’t know what I saw! – Pavel responded nervously. – I’m telling you, it seemed like there was someone there in the window... – But it’s true! And there was no need to invent it. He just didn’t specify that he saw some black woman there. The question is: is this the same one that tormented his predecessor?

Oh, well, that... it just seemed like it, probably, Alexander commented in an uncertain tone and returned to the story. - So, the last time at night he screamed so much that I was thinking about calling an ambulance. He kicked, hit the blanket, the wall, as if... - Sasha fell silent for a moment, as if weighing the words rushing out: were they worthy of being uttered? How will they be received? Like he was fighting with someone, he finally decided to say. - With someone invisible.

– Did you observe this yourself? – Pavel asked with a breath. For some reason, he felt everything that his partner said on himself, although he had never been so impressionable before. As if it was not Philip Matveevich, a stranger to him, who was fighting an invisible monster, but he himself.

I only saw that he was beating himself! What a spectacle, I tell you! I really wanted to tie him up so that he couldn’t harm himself, and keep him there until the doctors arrived. But I didn’t have time. He ran out into the street wearing exactly what he was wearing. And they never saw him again.

- What?..

- In any case, no one told me that they found him, if they found him. The bosses are not very talkative people.

I know, Pavel nodded. But that’s why he liked Semenych.

- Should I add some sugar?

The quick change of topic left him a little demoralized. Paul plunged so deeply into the narrative of supernatural forces (or just the madness of his predecessor) that he almost asked: Where? But he immediately turned his gaze to the mug, into which the lively Sasha had already poured boiling water and put a tea bag, and answered mechanically:

- Two pieces.

One by one, pieces of refined sugar fell into the dark liquid, followed by a beautifully patterned teaspoon. Pavel thought that Sashka would also stir it for him, but no: the kindness of his new acquaintance did not extend that far, he simply pushed the mug towards him. Stirring the sugar, Pavel looked out the dining room window. It overlooked a small pond overgrown with swamps, in the middle of which in some ancient times (Pavel was sure that if you asked Sashka, he would clearly name the year of construction) a white stone gazebo had been erected.

A thin black figure clearly flashed against a light background.

* * *

The rest of the day passed relatively calmly. There was no deck of playing cards anywhere, but Philip Matveevich left a stack of magazines and newspapers with crossword puzzles under the bed, and Pavel had something to do. Sasha read books. They made the last round around ten in the evening, armed with flashlights, since it was already dark, and began to prepare for bed. On the street, Pavel tried not to move his eyes around, silently followed Shurik and listened to his chatter, looking exclusively at his feet. He found himself afraid. A healthy forty-five-year-old man was simply afraid of seeing some kind of evil spirits. He was ashamed of his thoughts, but he could not help himself. The degree of shame was increased by the fact that this kid didn’t seem to see anything strange here, but he did.

And so they returned to the building. The walls and the door with a powerful bolt created the illusion of security. Despite the stories about Philip Matveevich, Pavel Petrovich had not yet noticed anything strange in the house.

They laid out the linens and went to bed. In the corridor there was a dim light from old fluorescent lamps. Shurik had an antediluvian lamp on the windowsill with a black flexible leg, a light brown metal stand and lampshade, and in its dim light he managed to read a paper book with small letters (yes, Pavel showed curiosity and looked over his shoulder).

- Won't you break your eyes? – he asked almost with paternal concern.

- Nope.

- Eh, youth...

- Doesn’t it bother you?

Pavel was used to sleeping with the light on, so he assured the boy that it was purple for him. However, Shurik soon put the book aside and turned off the lamp; apparently, he didn’t believe it, and decided that Pavel was saying this out of courtesy and altruism.

The room was huge, between the beds there were five meters, or even more. At the same time, Sashkina is near the window, as mentioned earlier, and the second one, the one that now completely belongs to Pavel, is opposite the doors. The headboard is pressed against the wall, and it turns out that he sleeps with his feet facing the exit.

Like some kind of dead man, he thought.

Despite the unpleasant thoughts, the frightening stories that his partner regaled him with, and his own wild imagination, to whose account he was now attributing all these black silhouettes that he saw on the street, Pavel quickly began to fall asleep. With his passing consciousness, he managed to grasp the idea that he needed to close the door to the room, because from his place he could see a long corridor in which, like in some bad horror film, one of the light bulbs was blinking. It irritated his eyes, but he was too lazy to get up - some mysterious bliss reigned in his body, relaxing all his limbs and not allowing him to move. In the end, he fell asleep with the door