...That morning really isn't coming. I don't know, I just feel it. The sense of danger coursing through his veins draws me irresistibly to plunge into it. It was like that with Alistair, and I'm obsessively trying to resurrect that feeling time and time again. And the morning is yet far away. In my reality, it doesn't exist. The third time we met was the only time I wanted to see Alistair in that annoying light.

I was angry and scared. I remember that someone had tried to instil fear into my soul and had succeeded in filling me with confusion. If I was not bold and maybe naïve, I would not have gone out on that road again. But my foolhardiness and my desire to know the truth compelled me to turn again to the elusive path among the dead trees. To this narrow bridge on the way to the abyss. I had already guessed that Alistair, like me now, dislikes mornings. And I wanted to see its faintness. I hoped that without the ghosts of darkness he would be unarmed against me. I was sure he would not come. But I was wrong.

Barely had I reached the road when I saw his car. For a while I stood still. I was tormented by doubts. I could not believe that he had risked coming here like this, without the intoxicating veil of darkness. He risked it to see me. Eventually my anger overcame my fear, and I approached. I studied my own reflection in the car window for a few minutes, knowing he could see me. My eyes glittering with doubts and worry, the pale blue shadows beneath them, and my stubbornly bit lip. Finally, I swung the door open and peered inside.

‘Get out, Alistair!’ I shouted. ‘Why don't you ever get out?! Maybe you should tell me that???’

Alistair did not answer. He looked at me in silence. The darkness of his eyes was no less mesmerising in the morning sunshine than in the twilight. They seemed to have turned even darker, almost merging with the vicious colour of his hair. The morning light appeared to fade, swallowed up by their fathomless desperate darkness. And that darkness reached into my soul.

‘Come here, Vic,’ he called. ’Light is not made for feelings, even less for confusions. It is a poor frame for your fire.’

I felt my legs shaking at the sound of his voice. Tired of resisting, I slowly crept into the cabin. I climbed onto the seat with my feet and looked straight into his eyes.

‘Tell me about yourself, Alistair,’ I demanded.

He tilted his head to the shoulder, and I saw the glint of steel in his gaze. But it wasn't the cold steel that rusts in its sheath. It was steel that had known the embrace of death, adorned with the flowing pattern of fresh, hot blood. I shuddered and looked away. Alistair laughed. With a deep, quiet laugh, and I realised that my question had truly amused him. But it was someone else's fear moving through me. I needed answers to have the strength to get him out of there. I never liked being afraid. I touched his arm.

‘Tell me.’

Okay,’ he replied. ’What do you want to know?

I hesitated. I remember it was agonising. It was incredibly agonising to see his waiting hands, the exhilarating depth of his breath, and to burn with shame, forcing myself to speak. To talk about something that didn't really matter anymore.

‘You're a stranger here, aren't you?’ I asked.

‘Are you asking if I am an enemy to your immortal soul obsessed with someone else's virtues?’ he questioned sharply, and I had no choice but to nod. Because he was right.

‘Yes, I am. I can scorch your soul. If you trust me, you will perish to the easy oblivion of heaven. I'm possessed with pleasure, and I want to enjoy you. I am not interested in morality if it stands in my way. To your world, I am an enemy. What else do you want to know?’

‘You're doing something to my body. Something dirty…’

Alistair laughed again.

‘Your viciousness masked by naivety teases me,' he said. ’If you want an answer to that question of yours, you'll have to trust me and find out for yourself the difference between dirt and delight. The other question is whether you want to find out?’

Instead of answering I asked:

‘What is this place, Saint Ferno?’

‘It is a harbour for vice. A home for those who are tired of climbing to heaven and for those who realise they can't get there anyway. If you want to get there, you'll have to learn how to enjoy.’

‘Is that it?’ I asked in a whisper.

‘No, that's not all. I will have to take you. Our bodies will have to merge so that you become heavy enough to fall from the heights.’

I was frightened into silence, afraid he would tell me more. But he didn't. He grinned and stared at me. From that gaze, sliding sensuously over my body, the fears of the day hurriedly left my soul. I was suddenly at ease. I unbuttoned my jacket, his jacket, and took it off. Smiling, he took my hand and pulled me to him. I remember how sweet it was to feel his body again, separated from me only by a thin partition of excitingly soft fabric.

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‘I want wine, Alistair,’ I asked. ’I believe you've been honest.’

‘It doesn't happen often,’ he said, holding out a bottle to me.

I took a sip, trying to copy his movements, his greedy gulps. This wine was sweet, and I choked with surprise. The spicy liquid flowed generously down my chest, leaving reddish streaks behind. Alistair laughed again and took the bottle.

‘You're a bad student.’

He shoved me down, forcing me onto his lap. I froze awkwardly, watching as he lingered and touched my chest with his tongue catching up the sweet droplets. His tongue was hot, his movements soft, and I didn't want to escape. Covering my eyes with my hand, I moaned softly. I felt him shiver. I felt his shudder pass through the pathetic cocoon of my skin, tired to resist. I thrust recklessly toward him, and felt his lips close greedily on my nipple. He pulled it with his teeth.

‘More,’ I asked stunned.

His movements became more demanding and his tongue bolder. I felt his tantalisingly light bite again and suddenly heard him moan. A quiet, rapturous moan, hidden by the night-black hair that swept across my chest.

It felt like he was digging into my flesh, and I hadn't known until then how good it felt to be dying. My fingers closed around his head, and he obeyed with ecstasy. I don't know how long I allowed him this dangerous caress. I remember coming to my senses at the sharp smell of his cigarettes. He was smoking with his eyes closed, and I was lying on his lap, breathing heavily. And I had no strength in me to get up.

‘Teach me this,’ I begged. ‘I want to be burned.....’

‘These games may take you further than you realise, Vic.’

‘You're afraid, Alistair,’ I realised. ’Why are you afraid?’

He didn't answer. Putting out his cigarette, he leaned over me. I felt our lips meet again. The dark and blond strands of our hair intertwined in a chaotic pattern, connecting and entangling our senses. I felt like I was losing my mind. His eyes were open, forcing me not to hide behind the saving barrier of closed eyelids. His tongue and his gaze penetrated me, deeper and deeper. To where the regret about the heaven still fluttered. I jerked away. He released me and I felt to the floor, gulping for air.

‘How long can this last, Alistair?’ I asked, clutching my burning temples.

‘All night,' he answered, looking at me with eager eyes.

‘And in the morning, what will happen in the morning?’

‘You'll start to fear what you've done.’

‘Is there anything to prevent it?’

‘Only courage. It will get you to a place where night never ends with dawn.’

‘Saint Ferno?’

‘Saint Ferno is just a place. A black dot on a map of darkness. The real night is in your soul. There you can live forever.’

‘What if I get tired of it?’

Alistair was silent. When I looked at him, I saw that he had turned away.

‘What if I get tired, Alistair?’

‘You know it yourself, Vic,' he said unwillingly. ’It's that knowledge that feeds your fear.’

‘And you?’

‘I don't get tired.’

I stared at him for a long time and remained speechless, unable to find the words to continue this conversation. I could see his profile framed by the black locks that were mussed from our games. His gaze was distant. It was as if I could only see his image. A ghost whose soul was wandering in another dimension. I desperately wanted to follow him, to catch up with him and, smelting with his confusion, to float for a long time lost in the void....

It was only the new questions that made me speak again. I couldn't not ask. He was the only one from whom I heard answers. Suddenly I realised how much I had wanted to know about things I had not thought existed until there were lips willing to speak to me. I shuddered and faced him again.

‘Why did you come for me, Alistair?’ Why do you seek me? I am not the one to give you peace, am I?’

Alistair turned towards me. I saw his snow-white teeth framed by lips curved in a mysterious grin.

‘You were taught that peace is the highest value, weren't you? But even in the heaven, there are winds. Faint, timid winds from your wings. And even one white bird can cause a tornado if wings are all it has. I need you, Vic. You know the unseen rage of the heights. I want you.’

He touched my knee and, in one elusive movement, slid down, coming dangerously close again. It was then that I first experienced the poverty of mercy. He showed me how beautiful the greedy cruelty of desire could be. Piling on top of me, he nestled his hips against mine. Without listening any longer, he pressed me painfully against him.

I could see that he had overcome his fear. His hands slid down my body, leaving burning paths in their wake. His lips explored me, and I felt the lust stirring in my groin. I didn't know what it was and so I screamed. Desperately and greedily. He kissed me again, and I was vaguely aware of my own trembling hands slipping under his shirt. I felt the taut impatience of his muscles, the hot wetness of the hollows where his chest merged seamlessly with his shoulders, the infinite sweetness of his skin.

‘I love you, Alistair,’ I said again, pressing my lips to his chest.

‘I'll take you with me, Vic,’ he whispered hoarsely. ’I'll take you with me...’

His gaze was insane, hidden by a murky shroud of demonic despair. I wanted to scream, and I didn't hold back. He kissed my belly and the hot throbbing, rushing upwards, twisted my body in dark ecstasy.

I didn't know what he could do to me. If I had known then, perhaps I would not have risked to compete with him in courage. But I am grateful to him for not breaking the saving cocoon of my innocence then. I had completely lost my head from the unbearable sharpness of the new sensations, and had almost forgotten who I was. But then he suddenly opened the car door and pushed me out. Out onto the rough mockery of the asphalt. I rolled dazedly on that indifferent grey surface, not yet realising what had just happened. Alistair hung down from the saloon and, still trembling, watched me.

‘Run, Vic,’ he whispered. ’Run from me, if you still have strength. I'll catch you when you think you are safe. Run now, and know that I will never tire of pursuing your soul. Only when you are truly desperate will I take you with me....’

He lit a cigarette, and I saw his smile again. Dangerous and predatory, like of a wolf ready to leap. Like a beast possessed only by the heat of the chase. And that's when I knew I'd do anything to keep him from catching me. So that the mad thrill of that fight wouldn't fade away, swallowed up by the indifferent light of reality.

‘I will not tire,’ I promised him. ’I will escape from you, even if I have to die. I have the strength to run forever. You are doomed...’ and I smiled too.

I know my smile shook him. It held the promise of an endless death. And love. A dangerous love between two obsessions. I knew then that he loved me. And I knew that I loved him ravenously. So I got up and, still smiling, crossing the maddening grins of our passion, I walked into the woods. Away from him, away from the dull faintness of the morning.....