Vladimir raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"What did you expect? Thought that like in movies, when the moon brightens in the sky, all lycanthropes immediately start tearing their clothes and turning into beasts?"
"I think Dad already explained that it doesn't work like that," I said quietly, feeling heat rush to my cheeks from embarrassment. And those stereotypes were so sticky! Finding parallels in real life — with movies!
"Alas, Asya. If I know anything about your brother, it's about the unpredictability of these entities. Just take how differently lycans connect to their ancestral spirit!"
His tone sounded like a poorly concealed mockery. It must be easy, when you're well over a couple hundred years old, to sneer at ignorance of fundamental truths hidden from most.
"I never asked, but how many werewolves have you met?"
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling for a moment, as if the answer was hiding there:
"Counting you — seven. I studied only four of them."
"You're studying me too?"
"Of course. How else? You agreed to hospital procedures yourself to try to control the beast," he leaned closer and said confidentially, "I can't help if I don't know what the problem is. The thing is, vampires have certain behavior patterns regarding transformation or, like Diana and Stas, birth — species traits are common. Unless somewhere in their lineage there's witch blood, like with Arthur and the twins. You probably noticed: they're not quite ordinary vampires."
"I didn't really have a chance to figure out who's a normal vampire and who isn't."
Vladimir waved his hand.
"They themselves don't really understand how their gift works. They've learned to use the minimum and are content. Only Maxim tries to expand the limits, to truly understand the boundaries of his abilities," a shadow of approval flickered on the doctor's face but was quickly replaced by disappointment. "Viola and Arthur don't care about that. They fulfill their duty for the family's sake and are satisfied. Love, you see..."
A quiet creak came from behind the door, and Vladimir's jaw clenched.
"If you want to hear what we're talking about so badly — come in, and don't try to deceive me. You know, Diana, what happens to those who misbehave."
Diana returned with a guilty look and obediently stood by the wall, hiding her hands behind her back. She didn't look at me or the doctor, and I thought how hard it must be for the Smirnovs with such a strict father. Compared to him, Kostya seemed like a good-natured retriever.
"Where was I? Ah, yes. If the kids had shown even a little interest, like Maxim, and allowed themselves to be studied — what a breakthrough humanity would have!"
"Which is why you," I had to clear my throat before saying as neutrally as possible, "studied Nik's mother?"
"Of course. And if she hadn't run away, I would have been able to help her sooner or later. But what's done is done. Time can't be turned back. She made her choice."
"But then it turns out you could have helped Nikita all this time but didn't."
"Nikita was born, not turned by a lesser vampire. That's the big difference between our species, Asya. He inherited the gift not from his mother but probably from his father. But who that vampire was remains a big question even for someone close to the ancient circle. You can't change the nature of a bloodsucker given by nature. At least not yet. Nik, as you may have noticed, wasn't eager to fall into my hands after the Halloween night encounter. And I don't blame the boy. His mother did everything to make Nikita's life hell on Earth: from supplying him with her blood to terrible stories."
"It sounds like you're not the villain here, although Galina turned because of you. Your blood doomed her to become what you call lesser vampires."
Dr. Smirnov turned a dial on the IV, stopping the flow.
"I'm a researcher who made decisions to help the majority at the cost of one life, and unfortunately, I haven't succeeded much. Can wanting to solve a problem that tormented many be considered evil? What do you think?"
"I think you had no right to make that choice for her."
Vladimir shrugged slightly and turned with interest to his daughter, as if checking her reaction.
"Diana would agree with you. Right, daughter?"
Only silence answered.
"I'm not looking for excuses or redemption. When I find a cure for vampires too, no one will care how many suffered for the sake of the goal."
I clung to that saving clarification, wondering whether it was Vladimir's manner of speech or a secret hidden between the words that I so desperately needed.
"For vampires too? You mean you have already found a cure for someone else?"
His Adam's apple moved involuntarily, though the doctor tried not to change his expression. I saw how hard it was for him not to twitch a muscle. My lips involuntarily curved into a smile, anticipating the answer.
"Yes, Asya," the doctor clapped his hands on his knees and stood up. "I'm starting to understand how to stop lycanthropy."
I looked at him questioningly, hardly believing my luck. The fleeting hope died when bitterness filled my mouth: something was wrong.
"Then why are you delaying? Adjust the treatment you're already giving me."
"Asya," he sighed deeply, "it's not that simple."
"If it's not simple, then why the hell did you even say it? Why give false hope?"
"You talk about lycanthropy as a disease."
I snorted indignantly and gestured at the objects around me in the room.
"If it's not a disease, then why are we talking about treatment here, in a dubious hospital ward?"
The anger was rising again, and Dr. Smirnov noticed it too. He quickly stood up and went to the metal cart with wide shelves, which were filled with all sorts of medical devices and instruments whose names I didn't know. I leaned forward, wanting to see what Vladimir was doing, but he blocked my view with his back and quickly commanded his daughter:
"Diana, hand me the vial from the second shelf," the doctor nodded toward something behind the bed. "The leftmost one."
The door creaked open.
"With the seal or without?"
"Is one of them opened?" Vladimir looked surprised, but only for a moment. Catching my gaze, Smirnov hurried.
"Sealed."
Diana obediently brought her father a small vial with a liquid that at first seemed clear to me, but as soon as the light touched it, a familiar pearly shimmer flashed. I heard how gently the needle pierced the rubber stopper and how faintly the liquid hummed as it was drawn into the syringe. How strange. Over the past few days, my hearing had caught many sounds, but such tiny ones—this was the first time. It was amazing how certain sounds stood out only in fragments. It seemed only those connected with the syringe had grown louder. Voices, footsteps, floor creaks remained the same volume, and I didn't understand when I had gotten used to it. Something important had switched inside me since I woke up. But how?
"Don't let him inject you with that crap," whispered a voice, neither from inside nor outside. Startled, I jumped, but neither Diana nor Vladimir seemed to hear the stranger's voice. I watched the doctor's back cautiously, wondering what Smirnov was filling the syringe with, when suddenly I noticed a strange play of light behind him. The shadow didn't match the outline of a human body and was darker than it should be—an unnatural, almost black color, even though the room was well lit.