Kostya clenched his jaw, then his fists. His face gradually flushed pink. He was angry, but I didn't care. I tried to talk to him nicely, but if Kostya, after a long lull, decided again he had the right to limit my freedom, better this way than becoming a prisoner of four walls when we get back to the apartment.
"Konstantin?" noticing my father's reaction, Doctor Smirnov tensed. "I would be extremely grateful if you wouldn't speak that way under my roof."
"You think after all these years I'll explode from a couple of gentle words from my teenage daughter? Don't count on it. There will be no show."
I put my feet down from the bed and again listened to my sensations before standing up. There was no dizziness or stomach pain, and I sighed in relief.
"I'm not hoping. You know, restoring a mansion is expensive but doable. Artworks—some things can't be recreated from ashes like a phoenix, and I cherish my collection."
"There's nothing to worry about."
My father demonstratively relaxed, showing everyone how well he controlled himself. Kostya proudly straightened his shoulders and walked around the bed. When my father approached Vladimir, the doctor handed him the container and asked him to hold it with both hands. I finally got up from the bed and moved far enough away to see what the mist had turned into, but not risk too much.
A white snake with violet eyes and no pupils lay on the dark parquet. Its body rose and fell as if lungs were inflating inside—which I knew snakes didn't do. Carefully, I began to squat to look at the snake closer, but Kostya grabbed my forearm.
"What are you doing?" he asked sternly. I tried to pull my arm back, but my father's fingers held tight.
"I want to see it closer."
"We and Vladimir will lock the curse in the vessel now. Look as much as you want then."
I didn't argue. The suggestion sounded reasonable, although I would be lying if I said I didn't want to stand my ground here too, to start visibly defending my boundaries again, showing Kostya the line that Dad must not cross if he wants to keep our relationship.
I didn't like how easily he dismissed my freedom, hiding behind his personal ideas of my well-being and safety. I wondered what influenced Kostya more, work or upbringing? Probably both left an equal mark on his fate, because not everyone would enjoy serving in the police. I knew little about Dad's job, beyond the basics, and never thought there was much truth in TV series. Werewolves movies definitely had none. But piecing together scattered bits of knowledge and impressions, it seemed I wouldn't be able to work in the police like Dad.
"Why do you even call the snake a curse?"
"Because it is a curse," Max spoke up. "Some witch cursed you."
"Cursed? Me? I don't even know a single one..."
Great, witches exist too. Just perfect.
I wondered what a witch might even look like and tried running through people I knew to find someone I could point at and say, "Yep, definitely a witch!" — but no one came to mind. Except maybe Denis's mother, who was an herbalist, though I barely remembered her. In my childhood memories, Uncle Dima was always a bright spot, and lately, I started recalling little things like playing chess during quiet time with Denis.
"If it was pulled out of me, does that mean it's all over? The spell is lifted?"
Max shook his head.
"I only managed to pull it out of you and bind it to the material world. Someone did a good job. I don't think even the three of us — me, Viola, and Artur — could dispel it, but we should try later, after I catch my breath. Definitely not today. The witch who cast it was too strong."
Max wobbled, but Diana caught him just in time. She looked at Max with concern, and I realized it was the first time I'd seen them together. It was surprising how well they fit despite being so different: tiny, delicate Diana with aristocratic features, and a blonde two heads taller, with a mischievous smile creeping at the corners of his lips, partly hidden by wavy strands falling to his chin. Compared to Diana, Max looked pale and sickly, with dark circles under his eyes.
"Darling, won't you help? I have no strength left."
Diana smiled softly and rolled up her narrow sleeve, then kindly offered her hand, almost reaching Max's face. His long fingers gently wrapped around her wrist. Sharp fangs peeked out from his open mouth. With great care, Max bit Diana's skin, and she didn't make a sound. She looked at him with understanding and special tenderness — no fear. For them, it was ordinary, while I watched this scene entranced and felt uncomfortable, as if I were an intruder in this room. The one spying on someone else's ritual, but even having this thought, I couldn't look away.
Diana handed Max her hand with such casual ease that for a moment I imagined doing the same for Nick and shuddered. Could I ever accept the part of his essence that burdened his life? Even understanding that Karimov hadn't chosen the fate of a vampire for himself, it was hard to feel compassion for him after everything that happened. At least mentally, I kept trying to convince myself that all the warm and bright feelings I had for Nick were just echoes of a hallucination. They refused to dissolve into oblivion and, like parasites, clung to the remaining memories, unwilling to leave my mind. But even though those echoes still had power over me, I noticed their choking grip weakening.
The more new memories formed, along with reasons to reflect, the less space was left in my thoughts for Karimov. And that was good.
Though honestly, I didn't like the price of freedom of thought all that much. I would gladly have given up the news of the curse, the strange visions with the dark silhouette, and the second round of conflict with Dad at a moment when I thought Kostya and I had finally found some common ground.
Kostya and Vladimir carefully placed the curse into the glass container and let me take a closer look at the creature. It really did resemble a snake in shape but there was something abnormal, almost unnatural about its appearance. Maybe it just seemed so because I wasn't particularly interested in reptiles in real life. Maybe I'd seen some beautiful colorful creatures with matte scales online a few times, but this creature in the jar didn't look like any of them — its eyes and velvety pattern set it apart. The snake didn't resist or writhe. Coiled in several loops, it rose above them like on cushions and, frozen, looked at me expectantly.
Vladimir covered the container with a tight glass lid with a rubber seal.
"Wait, but what about air? It won't be able to breathe!" I protested, but Vladimir gestured to calm down.
"It's a curse, Asya. It's not a living being."
I hesitated and looked again into the pale violet eyes, feeling that what I saw before me was a trick. An illusion.
"Doesn't look like it."
I wanted to touch the cool glass to see how the snake would react, but it didn't move. Seeing what I was doing, Kostya hurried to stand next to me and watched anxiously, but said nothing.
"So it's harmless now?"
"Not quite," Max ran his thumb from one corner of his lips to the other, carefully wiping away the last drops of blood, and I shuddered. "The curse is very much active and will gladly reunite with its host at the first chance. But while it's materialized, it won't have power over you. We'll find out who cast it, and then something might become clear."
"Oh yes, you will find out."
Kaandor's mockery made me pay attention to him again. By the way, I wasn't entirely sure if it was he or she, or whether gender even mattered for the creature. Because of the name spoken, the mystical "Darkness" didn't come to mind anymore, but the association with a man stuck firmly, though I really had no reason to think so. Oh, these gender expectations. I glanced once more at the dark being and realized something had changed — maybe in its pose or shape. The obvious differences were hard to notice, but I felt some tiny detail was slipping away from my attention, as if deliberately hiding.
How could I forget Kaandor at all? Strangely, thoughts about the dark observer only came when he tossed out new remarks, drawing attention to himself. Kaandor met my gaze and swaggered across the room, approaching the vessel.
"Such a little pest, but how many problems it caused," Kaandor snapped his fingers on the glass surface.
"Do you know what it is?" I asked aloud, unsure how else to communicate with this dark substance, though Max directed the question to himself.
"I told you — a curse. What's unclear about that?"
"Max, I wasn't asking you, I was asking him," I pointed to where the dark silhouette stood. Everyone behaved as if Kaandor's presence was taken for granted, forgetting that the mysterious world of mythical creatures had only recently opened its doors to me and no one was in a hurry to explain anything.
Maxim and Diana's faces changed. They looked at me and Kaandor with puzzled eyes, but their gaze slipped over the space as if they had nothing to hold onto.
"Asya, who were you asking?" Dr. Smirnov's hand touched my shoulder, but Dad immediately brushed it away.
"Don't you dare touch her again."
"Kostya," Vladimir said in an overly official tone, "if I'm not going to treat your daughter, then who?"
"Any other doctor who won't inject her with vampire venom."
"I'll explain everything soon. Without concealment or detours. I can only assure you now that my intentions were never to harm Asya. I did everything only for her good."
The last phrase grated on my ears, and I involuntarily took a deep breath and let out the air with a hiss. Oh, these fathers obsessed with doing whatever they want to others, "for their good." No wonder the ancient vampire managed to gain the support of the Khertonian werewolf cop.
"I'll decide that myself."
"Of course, Kostya. Of course."
"The Earth is calling concerned fathers!" I called out to Vladimir and Dad. "Start the explanations with who Kaandor is. He himself isn't very talkative and didn't bother to answer the last question."
The dark silhouette shook as if laughing, though it didn't make a sound. It bent over, hugging itself by the waist with long arms, and continued to chuckle.
Only then did I notice Kaandor's forearm, and if there was a light bulb in my head that blinked every time an important observation appeared, it would now be shining brighter than any flame.
"The snake! It was on his arm!"