Vladimir headed toward me. He moved from his place, but the shadow did not follow him. What the hell? This wasn't just a play of light. On the wall appeared a full silhouette, human-sized, but its head looked like a wolf's because of the elongated pointed ears—triangles. Besides the stranger's shape, no details could be made out: wherever my gaze landed, the surface seemed to ripple and move. But I didn't give up. Sliding my eyes down to his arm, I could see only one thing: a neon snake coiled around the forearm in two loops. The cold reptile's head silently stared at me, and my stomach clenched so fiercely it felt as if her kin were swarming inside. I felt dizzy. Nausea rose to my throat, and the spasm inside was so strong I wanted to pull my legs up, which I did. Vladimir immediately reacted to the movement and was at the head of the bed with the syringe ready.
"I don't feel well," I said, feeling sweat break out on my forehead.
"It will get easier soon, just hang on a bit," Vladimir said, bringing the syringe closer to my arm—and the creature spoke again.
"Don't let him inject that crap."
"Wait," I managed with difficulty to push myself away from the doctor. "What are you giving me?"
"A sedative, as usual," he moved closer. Diana and I exchanged looks.
My friend tiptoed to the table, picked up the ampoule, and began turning it in her hands. Diana looked puzzled, which made me even more uneasy.
"Dad, why does the liquid in the vial look like vampire poison?"
Vladimir didn't answer. He sharply grabbed my forearm, holding it still. The doctor's fingers squeezed the skin so painfully that I gasped.
"Why don't you explain anything?"
"Because I see I don't have time for that."
"Dad!"
Diana stepped forward, but before she could do anything, the door suddenly flew off its hinges. In one swift motion, someone reached Vladimir and grabbed him around the torso. The attacker moved so fast I couldn't see his face. Only the edge of a black leather jacket flashed before my eyes before its owner fell with Smirnov to the floor.
Diana recoiled against the wall, almost blending with a motionless dark figure that, like a silent observer, watched everything intently, as if the decisions made now were stakes for what was to come.
"What are you doing to my daughter?" Kosta's voice thundered through the room.
"Mister Black, where's all this distrust from? Have I ever done anything to harm you or your family? I thought we had a pact."
I wanted to get up and help my father. To get away from this deceptively friendly house. But as soon as I moved, my head spun.
This was something new. Just now, nothing like it had happened. A buzzing filled my ears, and in the distance I heard the familiar white noise again. A heaviness settled over my eyes, but I held on as best I could, trying to understand why such a change. My gaze fell on the raised arm with Smirnov's syringe sticking out. He hadn't finished injecting, but judging by my reaction, some of it had entered my bloodstream. My fingers grew heavy as lead, but I managed to grab the syringe and pull it out. I did it too sharply, and blood immediately splattered on my skin.
"Dad," Diana called. "Dad!"
But the men kept arguing, one louder than the other.
"Something's happening, Dad!" Diana covered her face with her hands, partially shielding it. My friend shrank as if about to cry.
The dark entity's eyes glowed amber.
"It has begun," the shadow's lips curled into a snarl, revealing a row of pearly white teeth.
"Who are you?" I barely moved my lips, hoping that if the stranger was watching, he would be listening.
"I am Darkness. That is how you called me."
"What is happening to her?" my father's voice echoed.
My eyes tried to close despite my efforts to hold them open. A chill ran through my body. It became so cold that I began to tremble.
"Do something, Vladimir!" my father shouted. His voice was drowned out by the siren of a monitor nearby.
"No," my throat dried up, but I felt, no, I knew I needed to ask. "What is your real name?"
The dark companion's eyes flared brighter, and the snake hissed, ready to strike. The reptile aimed at the stranger.
"If I answer, there will be no turning back."
"Is she dying?"
"Diana, bring Maxim!"
"And yet…" I whispered, and the stranger answered before my eyelids finally shut, and a monotonous beep sounded from the heart monitor.
"Kaandor."
His name flooded through me with a wild surge of energy that gave me strength, but only for a moment. The saving relief lasted just an instant, giving a tiny respite before I plunged back into another wave of pain. The stirring inside no longer felt like a nervous spasm, no. I jumped from the many small jolts in my stomach, as if something alive was inside, desperately trying to break free.
"Asya?" my father looked at me in horror. "Asya, where does it hurt? Where?"
I gasped for air, unable to say a word. My fingers slid to my clothes and tugged at the edge, trying to open my jacket, but my hands wouldn't obey.
Vladimir reacted faster than Kosta. With a sharp motion, the doctor pulled up the fabric, exposing my stomach, and then I saw what I feared. Something really was inside me. One after another, lumps of skin rose and fell in waves. For a moment I thought I was done for: Smirnov would eagerly grab a scalpel and cut me from throat to groin, enjoying the chance to pull out and study what throbbed inside me. Another mysterious creature, kindly delivered into his hands.
I imagined him apologizing to Kosta, saying he couldn't save me during surgery, and now it was too late, condolences. My father would grieve with Maria, blaming each other in turn, while the doctor with ease hid the fresh subject deep in some basement, like he once did with Galina. And the suffering wouldn't end as long as there was a knowledge-hungry vampire who wouldn't hesitate to use another's life as a bargaining chip for the illusory good of the masses.
To my horror, Vladimir really reached for the scalpel, but before he could do anything, Maxim and Diana appeared behind him. My friend was instantly on the other side of the hospital bed and firmly squeezed my hands.
"I'm here, I'm right here. Everything will be okay," her voice trembled because Diana didn't believe her own words; horror was clear on her face as she looked at the creature writhing under my skin. But Di kept repeating the words like a mantra, as if trying to calm not only me but also to give herself hope.
"Max, hurry!" the doctor commanded. "Konstantin, hold her down on this side! Your daughter doesn't like me much."
Without protest, my father bent over my body and pressed his broad palms on my shoulders, pinning me to the hospital bed. Max stood at my feet and slowly unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, then rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, freeing his forearms. He raised his half-bent arms before him, palms turned upward to the ceiling, and began chanting line after line in a language unknown to me. The longer Maxim spoke, the more his eyes rolled back, and his voice grew louder.
"Veerna atlaan, Sgihirat sham mimoe. Duhat las viori, Pierni nen limoi."
The light in the room flickered, and out of nowhere a wind arose. It blew Maxim's wavy hair in all directions, sometimes tangling before his eyes, but Smirnov seemed oblivious to everything as the strange chant continued. And how the hell was this supposed to help me? The earlier thoughts of Vladimir's scalpel seemed, in that moment, almost hopeful: I was ready to beg the doctor to intervene and pull this damn thing out of me that now fought to escape with renewed vigor.
But my hopes were dashed: Vladimir took a seat near the dark entity, away from the action, watching not so much me as Maxim expectantly.
My stomach began to swell even higher, inflating like a balloon. I felt my skin stretch. A strange pinkish mist slid across the surface. I didn't know if I was really seeing it or if the pain clouded my mind. Doubts about the reality of what was happening vanished when the veil grew denser and clearer. Like feathery clouds, it covered the skin's smoothness in a shroud.
"Turvidu aelume shatu, niviria kiilmaa," Max swayed in time with his song, gradually bringing his palms together, and from the side it looked as if it required effort. He seemed to be compressing the air around him into an invisible sphere, shrinking its boundaries smaller and smaller. His fingers tensed. Maxim did this confidently and without hesitation, as if he practiced it every day or every other day. I shifted my gaze from Maxim to my stomach and back until I noticed my belly gradually shrinking, as if responding to the singing.
"Stuurna bilak taa! Brivida sakir bata!" Maxim lifted his head and shouted the last lines. The room filled with a pale cold light, as if the moon itself had crept inside. Max straightened his arms and raised them above his head, reaching even higher, and I was amazed that with his height he didn't touch the ceiling—strange thoughts passed through my mind before I realized my body no longer trembled, and inside I no longer felt the foreign presence. The pink mist, like a living creature, stretched toward Maxim's palms, gradually fitting into the illusory sphere between his fingers. When the last part of the mist was inside, Smirnov swung and with a roar hurled the sphere to the floor at his feet.
Начало формы
Конец формы
A pop sounded, and immediately the wind in the room calmed, and the light became warm and muted again. Max was breathing heavily and continuously looking at the spot where he had aimed the orb. I listened to the sensations in my body and didn't notice anything alarming. It seemed I felt fine, except for one small "but": the world seemed to have slowed down.
Sounds and smells had faded away. Even Max's face, on which I could see every feature in the tiniest detail, looked as if through a smoothing filter in an app where classmates loved to take selfies. I turned to my father and realized he looked just as blurry. But I could no longer ponder the nature of the phenomenon: on the faces of everyone in the room was a frozen expression of bewilderment. Everyone was looking at Max's feet and dared not say a word. In waiting, both my father and Doctor Smirnov stared at the same spot. I noticed how, almost preemptively, Kostya spread his arms wider and stepped closer, preparing to shield me and protect me from danger. Kostya's reaction was both comforting and chilling to the tips of my fingers.
From my place, I couldn't see what the pinkish mist had turned into, but it was important for me to know what creature had been hiding inside me all this time. It seemed that if I saw what the others were looking at, I would understand what was happening better. I lifted myself slightly, but my father remained frozen in place, blocking me from rising from the bed and stepping closer to the source of everyone's attention.
It was important for me to find out what the creature looked like, whether Kostya wanted it or not. He couldn't always decide what was best for me. Neither for my sake nor for anyone else's. Not again. I would not allow myself to be locked away behind seven locks again, waiting for a better situation when all the dangers, in my father's opinion, had passed.
"Dad, what is it?" I asked calmly, trying to gently approach the topic, since I already knew it was pointless to openly confront my father when he had already made up his mind.
"I'm not quite sure," my father said slowly, glancing toward Vladimir, seeking his support. But the doctor only continued to look intently downward.
Suddenly he got busy and headed to the cabinet. Objects clattered and rattled as Vladimir searched inside.
"It seems the curse is still stirring," Max croaked, pulling Diana close and then with visible relief gently pressing his lips to the top of his beloved's head.
"Perhaps it will fit in this one," Vladimir said, pulling out a tall glass vessel with a lid and handing it to my father. "Konstantin, could you help? The guys have had enough shocks for today. Better if we pack the curse up before it bites anyone."
Kostya moved reluctantly, understanding that as soon as he left me, I wouldn't miss a chance to see what the mist had turned into. My father looked at me warily, as if I were a wild beast who could pull a stunt at any moment. What nonsense!
"Dad," I wanted my voice to sound calm but immediately caught notes of irritation I could do nothing about, "I'm going to find out what's there anyway. It came out of my body, and you don't have the right to decide what I do with that knowledge: accept it or reject it. Don't undo everything we've achieved in our relationship because of another worry about my life."
"It'll be better for you…" Kostya began in the expert tone I hated to the core of my soul.
"It won't. Period. You have no right to decide for me."
"How do you mean no right? You're not even eighteen yet. When you're an adult, do whatever you want. Even get a tattoo on your forehead. But for now—I'm your father! Who else will be responsible for you if not me?"
"No one. Neither you nor Mom. Neither Doctor Smirnov nor anyone else standing behind this situation."