Diana decided to avoid the main road and drove along the sparsely populated roads next to the forest. It was completely dark now, and aside from the headlights, there was nothing to light the way. That actually worked in our favor: if things got out of control, no random onlooker would see what was happening inside the car.
I stared into the darkness outside, trying to make out the landscape for some distraction, but all I could see was a dark veil with the occasional tree branch. My vision sharpened again, but not enough to discern finer details. Only thanks to the pristine white snow—which under the cover of night looked indigo—I could make out the trees, set in a checkerboard pattern. It created the illusion that the snow spread evenly for hundreds of meters, and unlike the locals, it had nothing to hide—come and see. Everything laid bare.
A deceptive safety, designed to lure an unsuspecting traveler into its territory and lead them inward. To throw them off course and leave them to fate, testing whether luck would be enough to get out alive. If a person didn't get completely lost, there was always the risk of encountering a mythical creature. Now I understood that for certain. How many unfortunate souls had gone missing after meeting someone like me? Official statistics probably didn't exist. Although maybe Kostya kept count. I wondered if my father ever killed people while turning into a wolf—and if he did, how he continued living with it.
I shuddered at my own thoughts, imagining the bewildered eyes of a lost stranger. What if someone wandered into the forest on a full moon? How would the wolf behave, the one that replaced my rational self, when confronted alone with a traveler? I knew too little about the future. I had no confidence that a werewolf would not harm an ordinary person. And could anyone give me that confidence?
"You've gotten really quiet," Diana broke the silence in the car. I rubbed my temples tiredly and turned to my friend.
"Sorry. I keep thinking about what might happen if I break. If I can't hold back and let the beast loose. Back at your house, I only partially gave in to Kaandor's will. You saw what came of it."
"Are you worried that if you fully transform, you won't be able to control yourself?"
I nodded.
"Kostya talks about the need to transform so often, but in practice, so little becomes clear."
"Want to share?" Smirnova asked evenly, as if she had never imagined I could harm anyone.
"I don't even know," I started biting my lip unconsciously, searching for the right words. "Probably yes, more than no. You know that feeling when speaking your fears aloud makes them start coming true? And there's no going back. On the other hand, I don't really have anyone to talk to about it, except Kostya. I see Denis so rarely, though his explanations always make more sense. It's like he lives in complete balance with his inner nature, perfectly suited to it, like a custom-tailored coat."
"Does Konstantin already know about your fears?"
I shook my head.
"Don't you think Kostya is exactly the person who could understand you like no one else? Dispel your doubts, calm you down. He's your father and would surely do anything to help you."
A smirk stretched across my lips. I doubted anyone could truly understand me, considering all the changes Kaandor had gone through due to Dr. Smirnov's intervention at my mother's behest. No one, not even I, could know for sure how my spirit-wolf differed from the others. Could it ever become what it was originally meant to be? I wanted to know, but no one could give guarantees, and that made it even harder to accept. Kaandor had always been different around me, silent with some companions on some days, warning of danger on others. He was playful and cheerful, yet teased when it wasn't appropriate. I had never tried sitting down to talk with him face to face, and perhaps that was what I should have done earlier. Now, trying to maintain balance on a razor's edge, it was too late.
It's a shame that good ideas always come too late.
"Since that Halloween night, none of my conversations with Kostya have calmed me. Every time the topic comes up, we start arguing."
"At least your father tried," Diana said with a hint of sadness, and it seemed to me that Smirnova deeply missed conversations with her own father. I could only guess at the family issues hidden under the roof of the old house-museum. One thing I was certain of: Vladimir was strict with his household, and Diana was afraid to speak even a single word—let alone contradict him. Gentle and sensitive, she possessed an underrated twenty-first-century gift: to see the pain in people's hearts and sweeten it with a spoonful of honey, just to make it hurt less, if only temporarily.
"And I understand that. Truly, I do. It's just that for him, this whole werewolf thing is a phase long past. A mundane inconvenience he has long since accepted and learned to live with. Nothing is new to him. Everything has its recipe, its recommendation. Filtered, emotionless. Listening to him, it seems nothing could be simpler or more normal, yet inside me everything tears apart at the thought of revealing a new side of my inner self. This side feels like a time bomb implanted deep under the skin, and you had no idea. There's a bitter taste of deception in it."
"Maybe that's exactly what worries you?"
"What 'that'?" The car climbed the entrance ramp to the highway.
"That your parents hid the family secret from you."
Yes, there was no doubt. I was angrier at Maria than at Kostya for this very reason. Yet it wasn't only the withholding of truth that repelled me whenever I genuinely wanted to sit down and talk to my family. I searched for a reason and could not find it within myself. My inner voice babbled so quietly and incoherently it sounded more like white noise than a complete thought. Alongside the words grew an unpleasant sensation. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine it. In my mind, a vague image appeared: countless thin lines, twisting, striving toward the center of the canvas. The longer I watched the movement, the more clearly I discerned in the shifting lines the slender bodies of young snakes. In search of warmth, they coiled into clusters, creating intricate connections within, until it became impossible to tell where one began and another ended.
A pulsating knot of pain. My pain. How could I restore the fragile trust in this new, unfamiliar world?
"Everything is so confusing," I finally replied. "Can I open the window?"
"Yes, of course."
I pressed the button, and the glass slowly descended. The crisp winter air rushed into the car, cooling my mind. I closed my eyes and tried to dissolve into the moment, to merge with the flow of wind, to become just as light. But it didn't work. There could be no peace until I faced the beast hidden deep inside, waiting for its time.
"I talked to my father this morning. Vladimir thinks you're on the path to healing, like Mom and Nikita, but we can both see that isn't the case," she said, glancing away from the road and giving a quick nod toward my claws. "If you want, I could…"
Diana bit her lip, as if the words had slipped out without thinking.
"Could what?"
"Give you my venom. Right now," Smirnova said sharply, and despite the dim lighting in the car, I could swear Diana had blushed.
"Do you think that's a good idea?" A flicker of doubt crept into my mind. Until today, the venom sometimes helped dull the changes, to restrain the spirit inside, but I also knew it altered Kaandor.
"Honestly? I don't know. But what other options do we have? I can take you as far as I can from crowds of people, but I am powerless against the transformation. Even though I stood confidently next to Viola, she's right: I can't oppose the essence inside you alone."
"Then why did you agree if you understood?" Diana's frank words only made the tension thicker. The deceptive calm her presence brought dissolved without a trace, returning me to the thought that Smirnova herself was in danger while I was near her, trapped in this box of plastic and metal. I should have listened to Viola instead of getting into Diana's car.
Diana gripped the wheel tighter and pressed the gas.
"Because I don't want things to end badly. Viola can defend herself far better than I can. If necessary, she could, for the family's safety, turn everything around into ruins with one spell. But that's the problem: I can't be a hundred percent sure she won't accidentally hurt you, weighing the pros and cons. Viola might decide you're too dangerous, and then I'd lose you."
"I'm glad you care about me, but that's no reason to put your own head under the guillotine!" I snapped, realizing how readily Diana was willing to sacrifice herself if fate had a painful lesson waiting around the corner.
The tips of my fingers burned with a surge of energy. Under my skin, it itched, and I tried to straighten my fingers, tensing them fully—but it didn't help. My claws grew longer, and I realized—this was a bad, very bad sign.
"I'm not putting my head under anything! What if the venom really helps? It's the only way we have right now," Diana said before I could answer, opening her mouth to reveal sharp fangs. Vampire fangs. She pressed the pad of her thumb against one tooth and gave a quiet gasp. The pearlescent liquid glowed like neon and trickled down her skin, disappearing under the sleeve of her jacket.
"Let's start small," Diana said, holding her hand out to me, offering me the liquid to lick. It didn't look particularly aesthetic, but the shimmering venom drew me in. It called to me, demanding contact, and for the first time, I wondered what vampire venom might taste like. Before, it had been injected directly into my muscles; now, I had the chance to take it in a completely different way.
"Come on," Diana urged. "Stop hesitating, or it'll seep under the skin."
I looked closely and did see how the thin lines, more like a web, spread out, breaking the outline and being absorbed under Diana's skin. Fearing the venom might be limited, I carefully took her hand, gently clasping her wrist with my fingers, and with the tip of my tongue began to draw the viscous liquid. I noticed no flavor at first, just touching her cold skin, but once I swallowed the first portion and moistened my tongue with saliva, multicolored sparks flickered before my eyes, and a wave of new sensation washed over my consciousness.
It was so pleasurable that I wanted more immediately, to make sure the effect came from Diana's venom and not something else, something unknown to me, unformulated in the halls of my mind. I couldn't fully extend Diana's palm, so I plunged my thumb into my mouth briefly, collecting the rest. The salty taste was so intense I wanted to wash it away with water, but alongside it came a thirst. My throat constricted, like a barbed wire scraping painfully across soft flesh, bringing both pain and pleasure. Breathing became difficult, and the lights before my eyes began a wild dance, making it impossible to focus on anything around me. With effort, I managed to inhale. Not even a second passed before my head was intoxicated by the metallic salty smell. Could it really smell like that in a car?
"Asya, what's wrong? Do you feel worse?" I felt Diana ease off the gas and smack her lips, and the scent in the car grew even stronger.
"What…," I began slowly, words struggling to form, "does this… smell like?"
My neck stiffened. I wanted to turn to Diana, but I had lost control over my own body. Waves of power spread beneath my skin. My bones hummed, and then I fully realized that I was changing right here, in the car. Through the low hum, I heard Diana sniff loudly, trying to identify the source of the smell:
"Oh, that? I cut my finger by accident while squeezing the venom. Nothing, it'll heal soon."
"Nothing," I muttered.
My breathing faltered. I tried to breathe as little as possible, just to avoid inhaling the intoxicating scent again. Damn Diana and her ideas. With each second, my anger at Smirnova grew, not understanding why she even agreed. My spine cracked like peanut shells, and I jerked in shock. My gaze slid over her smooth white skin, catching on the protruding veins on Diana's neck. I could hear my blood quicken its pace, circulating through my body. Soon, another sound joined it, like a rapid tapping in the distance.
Knock-knock.
Knock-knock.
Only by forcing myself did I realize that it was the rhythm of Diana's heart. It was calling me. Commanding me to touch it, like the neon liquid, wanting to merge with the creature inside me. Kaandor must have been rubbing his hands together in his cell, anticipating the feast, suspiciously silent. I was sure that any moment now, the dark companion would burst out and consume Diana completely. Devour the offense with the slightly sweet flesh of my best friend.
"Stop the car," I croaked as soon as I realized what was happening. "STOP THE CAR!"
It took an incredible effort to force myself to look away. I stretched my hands in front of me and lowered my head to my knees. I slammed my fingers into the dashboard with force. The plastic felt so soft that my fingertips sank deeper and deeper, as if there were no barrier at all.
Diana touched the switch, and the quiet clicks of the turn signal came. The car swerved to the right and gently stopped.
A scraping sound of skin against skin: Diana shifted the gear. Only then did I allow myself to spring into action. I had to get out of the car—and fast. Flustered, I unbuckled my seatbelt and, losing all sense of myself, pushed the car door open.
My legs carried me into the forest; I sank into the deep snow and broke its virgin smoothness—no human foot had stepped here. I had to get out of there. Far from Diana. Far from her blood. The life-giving liquid that filled Smirnova's body was calling me, and even if only for a moment, the idea of giving in to the sweet promise didn't seem so bad. Was that even possible? Did werewolves need blood too, or was it the venom I had been taking for the past month?
Suddenly, the forest opened, and I emerged onto a narrow patch before gray residential buildings. Along the edge of the snow-cleared sidewalk, cars were tightly parked. I couldn't go back, so I continued in an unknown direction, not knowing when I would stop. Only one thing mattered: to get as far from Diana as possible until this damn feeling passed.
Knock-knock. Knock-knock.
No! Could she be chasing me?
Knock-knock.Knock-knock.
"Don't come closer!" I shouted as loudly as I could, hoping Smirnova would obey.
I circled the nearest building, went into the inner courtyard, and caught sight of an illuminated street sign: Admiralteyskaya Street, building 23. The heavy iron door of the nearest entrance was invitingly open. Without slowing down, I headed there. Someone had wedged a piece of concrete slab in the gap between the metal frame and the ground, preventing the door from closing. Hurriedly, I kicked it away, denying Diana the chance to follow, and slipped inside. Behind me came a deafening crash.
Knock-knock. Knock-knock.
I ran up the stairs, skipping every other step, grabbing the railing to push myself upward. First floor, second, third. Faster, higher.
Knock-knock.
The sound seemed quieter. Reaching the top floor, I found a door made of thin metal bars. A heavy lock hung on it, threaded through a narrow ring near the handle. I pulled—it was locked. What now? I couldn't let anyone see me. Not now. Not in this state.
Knock.
I gripped the lock with my palm and squeezed hard. The shiny silver loop snapped.
Run! Run up to the roof!
Two flights just like the rest of the building, followed by a steep, rusty staircase with narrow steps. When I finally overcame the last obstacle, I was on the roof. I closed the door behind me and pressed my back against it, ready to resist until the end, just to keep the uninvited guest away. No one could reach me from the roof, and the heavy metal door was a perfect barrier between predator and prey.
The air turned to steam with each breath, but I didn't feel the cold. My body was so hot from the recent sprint that it could have warmed a room.
Only upon reaching the top could I catch my breath. Exhaustion overwhelmed me, and tears welled up, either from the wind or sheer despair.
A crunch sounded, and my legs buckled. I collapsed onto the cold surface, fingertips brushing a rough yet soft coating. It seemed that if I pressed harder, the surface would give way like sand, enveloping bone in the form of a thousand tiny spheres.
I lifted my head to the sky, letting the tears flow, and before a veil clouded my eyes, I saw the clouds part beautifully, revealing a full moon in the sky. Full moon. Of course.
Another crunch made my spine arch. Everything happened so suddenly that my head instinctively dropped toward the floor. I saw blackness of the roof beneath me and what had once been my hands—now extended from my shoulders were the paws of a beast. The gust of wind stirred my thick fur. Moonlight shimmered across it with every movement.
Crunch.
Father had warned me. I should have stayed home. At the doorstep, I hadn't heard anything clearly, lost in thoughts about other problems. How ridiculous. And when did the important become so secondary? Tell me in the rector's hall that I would never get into Xerton State—this wouldn't have hurt as much as four short words in a message from Stas: "I don't need anyone." Just like that. I wished I could say the same, but you can't fool your heart. It was already full of pain from mistakes that followed one after another, leaving no respite.
"I'll say it for you," Kaandor said, and the walls of the prison collapsed to the ground in a thousand shards, reflecting the perfect round disk of the Moon.