Kostya raised his eyebrows, a spark of curiosity in his gaze.
"Do you like him yourself?" His lips twitched with the ghost of a smile.
"Who, Stas? Nooo," I hurriedly denied. "We're just friends. Tanya… she doesn't handle that sort of thing well."
"So, a blonde," Father interjected, setting down the food container and reaching into the bag for a napkin. "Here's what I'm getting at. When Galina called Vladimir, asking for my help, it was… for advice. Not friendship—respect, yes, but nothing more. And at that time, I was the only one who could handle all the paperwork. By the time I arrived, the doctor had already turned Galina—mindlessly, instinctively. We spoke openly, honestly. Vladimir wanted to take Nikita in, but the Smirnov family was already too public. A baby appearing out of nowhere… it would have been too risky. And no one could be certain who the father was. In the vampire world, that detail mattered."
"All because of the thirst?" I asked, incredulous.
"Exactly that, damn it. If Nik's father had been firstborn—or even pure-blood—the outcome might have been different. But no one could know whether he'd turn weak-blooded and mad… or something else entirely. A simple blood test wouldn't help. And the child… the child was already here—alive, rosy-cheeked. Vladimir and I talked for hours that day. Ultimately, the unknown decided for us. There were already seven vampires in the Smirnov house—seven lives at risk if the new blood became uncontrollable. They decided it was safer to entrust him to those who lived more secluded, yet understood Ksertone affairs."
"And you chose the Karimovs?"
"Exactly."
"I've never met them. Neither father nor mother."
"Well, you'll like them. Good people. Not flashy, but good. They live on private land and run a store."
"Yes, I know." A fragment from a carefree past flickered before my eyes—Nik and I crouched by a spice stand, searching for something without curry. The memory twisted in my chest, sharp and unwelcome, and I shook my head, pushing it away. Kostya's gaze lingered, concerned.
"Something hurts?"
"No." My heart throbbed in silent protest, but aloud I said, "Everything's fine."
Father studied me uncertainly. Seeing no outward sign, Kostya wiped the sauce from his face and continued.
"You see, I used to be good friends with Nik's adoptive father. We went fishing, studied together at the institute… good times. But also…" His grimace hinted at shadows in that history. "You probably don't know, but Nikolai—he's one of us. Figuratively speaking. He can't turn, like many others. He ages normally, lives among humans. In short, he's from a werewolf family, what we call the 'knowing.' Not all inherit the spirit or its traits. Every clan's curse is different."
I listened, caught between awe and disbelief.
"So, being a werewolf isn't a gift?"
Kostya nodded, a wry smirk tugging at his mouth. "More a curse, really. Although your grandparents would disagree. Grandma thought it was a mission, a calling."
"But not you?"
"Not me," Father said, gesturing to the sushi pack and then to me. "Eat. You need your strength."
I obeyed, picking up a small tuna roll wrapped in nori, dipping the edge in soy sauce, tasting the subtle tang.
"You see, both we and the vampires were creations of witches during their so-called civil war. Clan against clan, daughter against mother. Every spell met with a counter-spell, the longer the conflict raged, the more meaningless it became. No descendants remembered the origins. I still don't know what sparked it all, but I can tell you the story your grandmother used to love. Near the end of the fifth year, when all means were exhausted and witch settlements lay in ruins, the High Pelagia stood among the ashes over Vasilisa's eldest daughter. She drew an enemy-enchanted dagger, letting her own blood flow, calling forth forbidden magic. Darkness answered, as if an old friend had returned.
An unknown force breathed life into Pelagia's daughter's cold body, but only briefly. The girl writhed in agony, a wheeze tearing from her chest. Her features sharpened, her wounds closing one by one, until the living and the dead blurred into one horrifying instant."