What Sleeps – Extrait 31
left.” Her chest tightened, the ache pressing, sharp, a slow, heavy knot beneath her ribs. “Are you saying… are you saying he’s alive?” “I’m saying you’re looking for a shadow.” His voice was soft, a faint, quiet hum. “But the shadow is looking for you.” “What does that mean?” Her voice was too thin, too fast. “What do you mean?” “You’re not just chasing him.” Alexei’s fingers traced the edge of the canvas, the blue a thick, dark stain, a shadow bleeding against the pale cloth. “He’s watching you. Always watching.” Her breath caught, the ache twisting, sharp, pressing against her chest. “He’s not just watching. He’s… he’s trying to stop me.” “Of course.” His voice was calm, steady. “Because you’re getting too close.” “Too close to what?” Her voice was sharp, tangled, a faint, desperate thread. “Too close to what you don’t want to see.” Alexei stepped forward, his fingers brushing against hers, his eyes dark, calm. “But you already see it. You just don’t know it yet.” “Alexei…” Her voice was a faint, shivering breath. “What do I do?” “Do you want the truth?” His voice was calm, a faint, quiet hum. “I don’t know.” “You do.” His fingers tightened around hers, warm, stained with blue. “But you’re afraid. Because the truth isn’t a door. It’s a mirror.” “A mirror?” Her voice was a faint, thin whisper. “What does that mean?” “It means that whatever you’re looking for…” His voice was a faint, soft hum. “Is also looking for you.” Her chest tightened, the ache pressing, twisting, a slow, heavy knot. Her fingers tightened around his, her breath sharp, tearing at her chest. “What do I do?” “You open the door.” His voice was calm, steady. “Or you leave it closed. But either way, the shadows won’t leave. Not until you see them.” “Will you help me?” Her voice was a faint, desperate whisper. “I always do.” His fingers were warm, a faint, steady pulse. “But this time… you might not like what you see.” The rain followed them. A thin, silver thread that twisted between the dark, wet streets, a faint, steady whisper that pressed against their skin, that curled against their thoughts. The mist was thick, a pale, silver shroud that wrapped around the city, that twisted between the narrow alleys, that hid the world beyond. But they didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Kalina walked beside Alexei, her fingers tight around the edge of her coat, the ache in her chest a slow, sharp knot that pressed against her ribs. Her breath was a thin, sharp mist, her pulse a slow, heavy drumbeat that filled her ears. But she didn’t speak. Didn’t look back. Alexei’s steps were slow, steady, his coat a dark, twisting shadow that brushed against the wet stone. His fingers were pale, stained with faint, dark streaks of blue, his face a quiet, calm mask that didn’t crack, didn’t change. But his eyes moved, tracing the shadows, watching the mist twist, melt, curl between the rain. “Are you sure it’s still there?” he whispered, his voice a faint, calm hum that slipped between the quiet. “It was there.” Kalina’s voice was sharp, tangled, a faint, desperate thread. “It has to be there.” “Sometimes doors disappear when you look too closely.” “This one didn’t.” Her breath was sharp, her fingers tight against her sleeves. “It was real. It opened. I saw it.” “I believe you.” His voice was a soft, quiet breath. “But sometimes the things we see aren’t the things we want to understand.” “What does that even mean?” Her voice was too thin, too fast, tearing at her chest. “This isn’t a dream. This isn’t… it’s real. It’s all real.” “It’s real because you see it.” His eyes caught hers, dark, sharp, a faint, silver gleam. “But that doesn’t mean it won’t disappear.” “It won’t.” Her voice was sharp now, too sharp, cracking. “It can’t. He’s there. He’s… he’s still there.” “He?” Alexei’s voice was calm, too calm. “Are you sure?” “It has to be him.” Her
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🔖 Labels : What Sleeps, What Sleeps – Extrait 31
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