"I heard that Ildar is planning to propose to Yesenia tonight," I said, forcing a smile as I approached Elena cautiously, hoping my ridiculous plan would go unnoticed. "I'd like to order flowers for them, to congratulate them, but I don't have their phone numbers or even their surnames to place an order. Could you help me?"
Elena regarded me with suspicion, and after a moment's pause, shrugged. With a deft motion, she adjusted the stack of papers before her, tapping them sharply against the table to straighten them.
"Why not use the local service? We have our own garden, still in full bloom. Guests are welcome to help care for it, if they wish. You could contribute as well, but that would have to be tomorrow. Today, if you like, you can pick your favorite flowers and tie them with a ribbon yourself. I'm sure you'll create a beautiful bouquet."
"I'm afraid I'm looking for something unique—something that perfectly captures the spirit of this occasion."
Elena smiled.
"What, you think we only have weeds and wildflowers? Rest assured, that's not the case. You could make a bouquet, for instance, with lilac peonies. The buds this year are as large as pomegranates. Our pride, really," she added, pressing her lips together and straightening her shoulders, as if emphasizing the grandeur of the horticultural achievement.
"Impressive," I said, improvising as I spoke, "but I'm not just interested in the bouquet. I'd like to order a box of chocolates and perhaps a bottle of fine champagne—to celebrate."
"Sir," Elena interrupted sharply, lifting her chin, "you underestimate the level of our service. While staying with us, you can leave all your worries outside the glamping gates. Tell me, what kind of chocolates would you like to gift? And which champagne?"
"Something handmade," I said, fumbling for the most complicated specification I could think of, hoping the sharp woman would finally relent and give me what I came for. "Raw, but without coconut flakes. And each piece must be decorated with a yogurt pattern on the surface. Every single one."
Elena didn't even raise an eyebrow as she listened to my elaborate description. Her fingers fluttered over the keyboard, and the reflection of a pop-up window flickered in the lenses of her narrow glasses. Seriously? She was calmly writing everything down?
"And as for the champagne—make it demi-sec. The real kind, from the Champagne region," I added, barely suppressing a smile. I knew perfectly well that fulfilling such a request would likely require a trip into the city, a search for a specialty wine shop—far easier to handle through a professional service. I doubted Elena kept a spare bottle or two for connoisseurs tucked away under her desk.
My inner voice reveled in its own cleverness, but the desired effect never came. Elena behaved as though requests like mine were entirely routine, and that irritated me. I scrambled to invent something else, but even my imagination had limits. Of course, I could have asked for an elephant and professional dancers to present the gift, but I feared Elena might arrange even that—and my salary would never survive such extravagance.
Honestly, was there anything that could rattle the owner of this glamping site?
"Before you say anything else," she said, rising from behind the desk. A ring of keys chimed softly as it swung in her hand. "Come. At least take a look at the garden."
There was nothing else to do. I obediently followed Elena deeper into the house, winding through the familiar labyrinth of corridors until we finally stepped into the backyard. Sparse rays of sunset filtered through the tree trunks, bathing the garden in gold. Tall shrubs lined the perimeter, and the air was heavy with the sweet scent of blossoms, growing stronger with every breath.
Elena's private garden truly was magnificent. Tea roses grew side by side with chrysanthemums, and the peonies in full bloom were almost intimidating in their size—I doubted a single one would fit between two open palms. There was no shortage of choices here, but unfortunately, I hadn't come to pick flowers. What I needed far more was information.
"You really do have a beautiful garden," I said, offering Elena a smile as she wrapped herself more tightly in her familiar shawl. To me, the air still felt pleasantly warm, but at her age, I suspected it was always cold.
"Then don't be shy," she nodded toward the garden. "Take as many flowers as you can carry."
I nearly groaned aloud. It was time to go all in.
"Listen," I began hesitantly, shifting from foot to foot. "This is incredibly awkward to admit, but I lied. I don't need the flowers. What I desperately need are the guests' surnames—and any information at all. Phone numbers, for instance."
She looked at me questioningly, and a web of fine wrinkles spread across her face.
"Shall I give you their passport numbers as well?" she asked coolly. "The audacity, Mark. I didn't expect this from you."
"It's a matter of life and death—honestly," I said, stretching the truth as convincingly as I could, hoping the hostess would take pity on me. I had no one else to turn to. Sneaking behind the desk to steal personal data was hardly an option.
"Are the other guests threatening you?" she exclaimed, genuine horror in her voice.
"No, no—nothing like that," I waved my hands quickly. "Not at all. It's just that earlier today I saw something… strange. Something I never should have seen. And I'd really like to understand what's going on before I draw any conclusions."
"What are you talking about?" she demanded. "What could possibly have happened that made you resort to deception? In my youth, such audacity was considered immoral—unthinkable, even with good intentions. Acting behind someone's back, meddling in private lives—it's beyond comprehension."
I grimaced when she mentioned private lives. Coming from her, of all people.
The hostess remained unyielding. I was simply wasting my time. Neither deceit nor cautious honesty had swayed Elena into helping me. I needed to come up with something—and fast—before she decided, out of some misplaced sense of justice, to tell the others that I was prying into their affairs.
"Listen, I know this probably sounds insane, but I'll tell you as honestly as I can, alright?" I leaned in, trying to meet Elena's gaze with as much trust as I could muster. "Do you… believe in the supernatural? In all sorts of creatures, demons, and such? Witches and vampires? Forest spirits?"
Her cold eyes fixed on my face, and for a fleeting moment something barely perceptible shifted in their depths, though I couldn't make out what. Elena seemed to turn to stone, swiftly pulling an impenetrable mask across her features, and for a moment I caught myself thinking she might decide I'd lost my mind.
Maybe I had. I kept doubting myself, doubting what I had seen, and it was driving me mad. I began to feel like a lion trapped in a tiny cage, thrashing against steel bars, desperate to escape.
"Let's say… I believe. So what?" she said skeptically, holding my gaze unflinchingly.
"Then you can understand, better than anyone, that what I saw was… strange. Wrong. And it gnaws at me. I'm not asking for much. I swear, no one will ever know I got any information from you, but I…," I emphasized the word with deliberate force, "I really need your help. Otherwise, I won't sleep tonight."
I was almost begging, unsure what else I could do to make Elena relent. My tone seemed to unsettle her; she tugged her shawl tighter around herself, the fabric bunching and twisting with every pull, as if an inner struggle was playing out in her hands.
"Alright," she finally said, letting one edge of the shawl fall loosely, as if the stubborn piece of fabric refused to obey her. "I'll give you what you came for. But do take some flowers as well. After all, there's a celebration coming up."
I nearly jumped for joy but forced myself to remain composed. Elena would never have appreciated my outburst, though I admit, I longed to hug her tightly in relief. Soon, my problems would be solved. Even if I found nothing about the guests' names or numbers, it would still be a sort of result. The terror of uncertainty might be all I had left—but if, in truth, the guests led quiet, ordinary lives, maybe things weren't as bad as I feared.
Full of gratitude, I took the garden shears from Elena and practically skipped toward the enormous peony buds.
"Can I take some for Lisa, too?" I asked aloud—and then froze.
The thought of Lisa flashed through my mind as always, stirring bitterness and longing. Things would never be the same. Everything had changed in an instant—the tenderness I had always felt when thinking of her now pricked me like a thorn.
The girl I had cared for. The one I would have faced fire, water, and anything else for, now felt like a dangerous stranger, unpredictable and unknowable.
But what had truly changed? Had Lisa ever given me reason to doubt her feelings? Could I recall even a single moment, being near her, when I had sensed danger? Memories flitted through my mind, one after another, as though someone had etched her smile, her delicate fingers, and her sensuous lips into my subconscious. Even now, I shattered into a thousand fragments because I loved. Loved and feared, all at once, what I did not understand about her.
"Do you have a ribbon to tie the bouquet?" I called to Elena, holding in my hands a cluster of five enormous peonies. "I think you mentioned somethi—"
Someone seized me from behind with force. A thick cloth pressed over my face, cutting off my breath. The last thing I remembered, before plunging into darkness, was the acrid stench that burned inside me, and Elena's voice:
"Such a good boy. And so foolishly clumsy."