I remained twenty yards behind him, treading gently in the dark. It was not a clear night. Clouds drifted thickly over the moon and it was difficult to see where I was going. It was only because of Mamoru’s intense whiteness that I was able to keep sight of him. I could not remember if he was wearing white clothes; I was only aware of the purity of his colour, a strange quality that seemed to absorb what little light there was and make it his own. He walked slowly, picking his way smoothly between the trees as if following an ancient, predetermined path. Not once did he pause or turn around.
Several times I stumbled, catching my foot on tree roots and rocks; each time I had to hurry to catch up with him. Invisible branches slashed at my face and neck and arms like whips. I tasted the saltiness of blood on my lips but still I continued, drawn by the glowing white light ahead of me. I do not know how long or in which direction I had been walking, but suddenly I found myself in a clearing by the house of antlers. Mamoru had disappeared.
I walked slowly around the house, pausing now and again to listen for movement: nothing. I came to the back of the house, and there he was, standing in the moonlight on a stone parapet, hands in pockets, silent as the night that had fallen upon us. He looked like a carved figure, part of that dead house. It was only when he moved and his whiteness shifted with him that I knew for certain that it was him. He became human again, walking until he was at the base of the steps, not ten yards from me.
I came out of the dark, into his light. “Mamoru,” I said.
He turned to face me. “Snow,” he said simply and without surprise, breathing out as if in relief. He had been waiting for me.
I went to him and touched his hand. We sat down on the steps and I put my head on his chest. I closed my eyes. His marble-cool body brought relief to my burning head. We did not speak for a very long time.
“I know you are troubled, Mamoru,” I said after a while. “But Honey’s death was not your fault. You cannot be responsible for everything.”
He put his hand on my brow. “Am I not responsible for the horror of it?”
“What do you mean? You are not responsible for Honey’s death, or the deaths of anyone else. We’ve talked about this before, Mamoru. I know you carry with you what you saw in China, but that was not your doing.”
“Wasn’t it?” he laughed a strange laugh. I could not decipher it.
“No,” I said, sitting up and facing him. “It wasn’t.”
Again he laughed. “How little you know.” His voice sounded hard and bitter.
“I know what you have told me,” I said. “I have no need to know anything else.”
I reached for him in the dark and drew him close to me. I held his head in my hands and kissed it. I kissed it and kissed it some more.
He pushed me away. “Listen,” he said, “you know nothing. You do not know me.”
“But Mamoru,” I said, brushing his neck slowly with the back of my hand, “you have told me everything. I have seen your life through your own eyes. I have told no one about it, nor have you. Only you and I know what has happened in your life.” I tasted blood on my tongue again.
He put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me to him. He kissed me on my lips, pressing his mouth hard on mine. His coldness stunned my nerves and I could not breathe. I could not even move. He drew away and I gasped for breath.
“Do you really want to see all the things I have seen?” he whispered in my ear.
“Mamoru.”
He gripped my wrists tightly. “I have seen evil inflicted on men, things that you, Snow, could not possibly imagine. I have seen things happen to women too, things that would make you wish the whole world could be destroyed. How could you possibly want to see those things?”
“Mamoru,” I said, “you’re hurting me.”
He was pressing against me, his hard cold body over me. “I have been part of those things, Snow. Nothing can save me from that.”
When he forced his lips upon mine I tasted blood again, flooding into my mouth, choking me. I wanted to die.
I do not know how I finally broke free. I struggled like a wild creature, kicking and spitting and clawing and wailing. I cannot recall how it happened, but suddenly Mamoru had disappeared and I began to run. I was running and Peter was there, calling my name, chasing after me in the darkness. I ran from him as hard as I could but I did not get far. My body was bruised and cut, I could feel every mark on my skin. Peter caught up with me and grabbed hold of my waist. I screamed at him, tearing at his shirt, ripping it from his body. Clouds shifted in the sky, and in the new moonlight I saw that my fingernails made harsh red scratches on his milk-white chest. I stopped kicking and held him like a child clings to its mother, tightly, unquestioningly. His skin was wet.
“There now,” he said softly, stroking my hair.
“Oh God, Peter.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in God,” he said, chuckling.
