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The Chess

The Chess – Danny Phantom, Alex Andreev, Sergey Chekmarev, Sergey Lukyanenko and others The team of authors: «METRONOMICON» Fanfiction by Na

Read 'The Chess', a Danny Phantom, Alex Andreev, Sergey Chekmarev, Sergey Lukyanenko and others The team of authors: «METRONOMICON» fanficti

Chapter 21: Wild beasts (part 2)

Summary:

He came here to fish. His collection already included various mermaids, sirens, water nymphs, and even one small river dragon. Only the lake ladys was missing. A special place had already been prepared for her effigy. But this blond-haired boy completely captured his attention. Looking at him through binoculars, the hunter already imagined how his formalin-soaked body would look good in his chambers. There was just an empty space between the werewolf and the yeti. Yes, he was obviously too small for good hunting, but he wasn't going to wait for this little animal to grow up. This handicap would be too generous for the future prey that was splashing around in shallow water in the company of some mangy useless cat that wasn't even suitable for a bed mat. The upcoming hunt promised to be incredibly easy and fun with these two as the game. And the Hunter intended to play with them properly before returning to the other world with new trophies. Removing the binoculars from his eyes, he looked out from the top of the hill at the lake with a small island almost in the very center. There was a small settlement very close by, but the local aborigines were clearly not to be feared. After all, what can any people do to him?

After healing, the scar on the palm became a long furrow that encircled the thumb, passing along the back of the hand and closing in on itself. Aunt Alice said it was like an endless line of life. He laughed at the joke, which in theory should have cheered him up, but at that moment his soul seemed to be covered with a crust of ice. The more he looked at his own healed palm with a bright red fresh scar, the more this former wound seemed to him like a snake that was eating itself. In the combination of seams connecting the previously split and charred skin, pieces of which were probably already beginning to rot on the crossbow bolt, Danny clearly saw the flat, fanged head of a reptile with what looked like horns.

Running his fingers over his nervous skin, the teenager felt a growing itch in his lower back. He knew that his bluish-black nails would come across another trace of his parents' experiment if he started itching. The scarred skin on his back that had lost its sensitivity, but the phantom of the pain that caused it.

“Even pain can be a ghost,” ― the teenager thought absently, turning over on his stomach and picking up a portable console from the bedside table.

They woke up pretty early today just to call home, and immediately after breakfast they started nodding off again, sorting things out. An empty hiking backpack lay in a dark green bulk in a half-empty closet, on the topmost shelves of which Danny found incredibly old-fashioned clothes that smelled of bitter herbs that his aunt used to repel moths. Judging by the look of the shirts and trousers, they were actually already fifty years old, but they were quite well preserved. Alice said that she and Jess could use these things so as not to dirty “decent clothes,” but looking at the still perfectly clean and stiff collars of shirts with tiny blue buttons, Danny was genuinely not sure that it would be okay to spoil them.

Maddie's cat showed unusual curiosity for small predators in the evening and, instead of resting at night, began to rummage through all the rooms, which is why no one closed any doors except the front one on the first night. In the morning, the animal came to breakfast in cobwebs and dust, but with some small mouse in his teeth, which he almost threw into a common pot of soup, entering the house through the kitchen window directly above the stove. Aunt Alice just laughed, but Jess seemed really uncomfortable with the sight of a small partially eaten corpse. She was always impressionable and compassionate. Sometimes it even seemed strange to Denny that she hadn't followed in Sam's footsteps and gone vegan with her overdeveloped empathy.

Having started one of his few favorite games on the console with the sound turned off, the teenager heard his aunt walking quietly on the first floor so as not to interfere with their rest. The barely audible hiss of the radio in the next room. The signal was really bad during the day, although the boy could have sworn that last night the muffled, quiet music from his sister's room, on some unknown radio station, was playing clearly and almost without interference.

The first level ended with a small cutscene, when a muffled “Meow” was heard from the side of the open window, half-covered with a light curtain with small polka dots. This time, Maddie brought not a loot, but some kind of leaf, sat on the windowsill looking directly at the guy and seemed to be calling her temporary master. Pausing the game and going to the window, Danny was horrified and hurried to throw a brownish leaf out of the window, which turned out to be a disguised insect that had already spread its legs and began to move slowly, trying to escape.

― Why did you bring a living being into the house? ― the teenager asked Maddie quietly, trying not to break the silence of the house with his voice. ― You don't eat them anyway.

The cat watched the would-be prey with an indifferent gaze and again stared straight at Danny without blinking at all. The blue eyes with sharp vertical pupils seemed too intelligent for an ordinary little beast. She tilted her head to the side, as if trying to ask him something. With a short “Meow,” she took the hem of his loose T-shirt in her teeth and pulled him towards the street, where a leaf-like beetle was thrown out.

― What are you doing? ― Danny was surprised, carefully freeing the fabric from the cat's tenacious fangs. ― Do you want me to follow you? ― he asked after a short but persistent "Meow." The animal tried to pull him out the window again, but the teenager only quietly pushed her away from him with the words: ― Okay, okay, let me go out through the door like a human being.

It was getting close to noon and it was hot and stuffy outside. The short shadows looked gray against the bright sun, and grasshoppers and cicadas chirped loudly in the nearby bushes. Aunt was sitting in a rocking chair by the entrance and weaving a new dreamcatcher, made of fresh twigs and black threads, decorating it with bird feathers, bones and skulls. The design seemed mesmerizingly creepy, and Danny briefly considered making something similar himself as a gift for Sam, but quickly dismissed the idea. She will never accept something that was once alive.

― Look who crawled out of the den, ― Alice grinned, without looking up from her needlework. ― Have you rested yet?

― Something like that, ― Danny awkwardly rubbed his neck. Because of the heat, he quickly began to sweat.

― It's better not to go outside yet. It's still too hot, you can get a sunstroke. ― the woman warned.

― I won't be long. It was just a cat screaming somewhere under the window. I want to make sure that nothing happened to her, ― Danny was only partially lying. Just because he didn't know exactly how this very “truth" could be adequately presented.

His aunt didn't ask any more questions, and he calmly walked around the house, disappearing from sight. A white cat's tail flashed by the entrance to the barn with grain and animal feed for the winter, disappearing through the door. Vlad's cat was obviously not an ordinary animal, it is unlikely that Vlad would keep someone so banal. Although who knows. But the fact that the animal was smarter than the average cat, which usually become the heroes of memes and short videos, is an obvious fact. However, her behavior remained a mystery to Danny. Cats, in his understanding, are sociopaths and maniacs who like to play with potential prey instead of killing it right away. The behavior of dogs was clearer to him, but only domesticated, that they were dependent on human company. Feral street animals, coyotes, foxes, or wolves, were still closer to cats: cautious, wild, frighteningly intelligent, and therefore unpredictable.

The air in the barn was dry, but surprisingly cool. After the bright sun, it took time to adjust to the semi-darkness, but the poisonous green eyes of the Ghost coped with this adaptation faster. The hinges of the closing door creaked violently, and concrete chips crunched under the soles, breaking off from the hastily and unevenly filled floor of the building. Almost no sunlight penetrated through the tiny cloudy windows under the roof. The air smelled of grain and dry straw, but the cat was nowhere to be seen.

After walking a little further from the entrance, the guy felt something fall on top of him. Something alive and squeaking wildly, clawing at him with tiny claws and trying in a panic to find shelter under his T-shirt.

― Hey! ― Danny exclaimed in surprise. Pulling off his T-shirt, he shook it a couple of times until a brown mouse fell out of the thing. The animal was clearly more scared than he was and ran away in a panic behind the nearest barrel of mixed feed for auntie's animals. ― Phew...,― the teenager mumbled, pulling on his T―shirt again.

― You seem to be big, but you don't know how to hunt at all. Just like a baby, ― a soft purring voice came from somewhere above, making Danny shudder. ― Now it's clear why master is so worried about you.

A woman in white was sitting on one of the beams under the roof. Her eyes glowed in the semi-darkness with a greenish animal luster, reflecting the scanty light with giant pupils. Clawed fingers held tightly to the wooden ceiling, a fanged mouth stretched into a feline smile. There were two dark spots above the eyes that resembled eyebrows. Danny had seen this creature before, though in a much more human form. Masters really didn't keep an ordinary cat.

― It's easy to fix, ― Maddie gracefully jumped off the beam, landing absolutely silently, like some kind of ninja. This time, kotolak did not have any shoes on her feet, and she moved on tiptoe without touching the floor with her heels. The foot seemed disproportionately elongated, and the fingers, just like on the hands, ended in semi-retracted claws. ― Try again. It's still there, ― she said, almost purring, approaching the teenager from behind and turning his body towards the barrel, behind which the mouse was hiding.

― What? No! ― The guy almost shouted, stopping himself in time so as not to understand the noise and not attract the attention of his aunt and sister. Twisting around, he backed away from the cat to look directly into her eyes, sly and eternally smiling. ― Are you completely crazy? How did Vlad come up with the idea to teach me how to kill?

― What's the master got to do with it? ― The cat tilted her head slightly to the side. It actually looked like the initiative was her own, even though Danny wasn't entirely sure. Her wide pupils glinted in the darkness again, as surely as his own. ― Predators must be able to hunt, regardless of their desire, otherwise they will not be able to survive for a long time. I've been learning how to hunt different prey since I was a kid. And I can teach you.

Danny was lost in his own thoughts for a second, trying to process everything he had just heard. Kotolak was clearly not joking, suggesting something so wild. Hunting was a thing of the past in every sense, and Maddie was smart enough in theory to know that. But on the other hand, she was much less a human than a predator. She was born a wildcat, and she will remain a wildcat for the rest of her days, regardless of her appearance.

― What a stupid idea..., ― the teenager mumbled, brushing off his T―shirt. ― It's the twenty-first century, why do I need to learn to hunt?

― So as not to become prey, silly, ― the cat touched the tip of his nose with a soft fingertip, more like a cat's paw pad. The gesture is childishly stupid and unnerving. She really thought Danny was just a little boy asking stupid questions.

With a short, graceful leap, she was at the barrel of millet in an instant. The teenager didn't even have time to blink, as with a sharp gesture she snatched a small mouse out of hiding, which was desperately squeaking, trying to wriggle out and escape from the tenacious clawed paw that playfully held it at the base of its tail, covered with sparse short fluff. She took hold of her prey's head and pulled sharply on the tail. After a short, quiet crunch that made Danny wince and feel a chill run down his spine, the little prey twitched its paws a couple of times and was silent forever. With a precise and precise movement, kotolak broke the rodent's neck and spine. All that remained was to hope that death had come quickly for this creature.

― If you're not a hunter, you'll become someone's prey sooner or later, ― the cat indifferently threw the mouse's corpse between them and began listening to the soft rustling in the barn. ― You've been a victim before, more than once. Even your father mistook you for prey. If he hadn't been such a bad hunter, he would have killed you, but you're lucky. Most people like him are prey themselves, they will never become real predators. They are dumb, can only rely on tools and weapons because of the weakness and sluggishness of the carcasses. And their brains are only enough to breed and distinguish the edible from the inedible, and even that is not always successful.

Grouped together, the cat jumped almost to the ceiling and grabbed a new prey from the beam. Everything she did seemed easy and more like a game. A smile froze on Kotolak's thin and bright lips, and her voice sounded as if she was not talking about his personal tragedy, but about something abstract and much more everyday. What everyone faces at some point in their lives. Danny unconsciously reached for the fresh scar on his palm, rubbing it with his thumb and staring intently at how the cat habitually broke the neck and spine of the second mouse.

He couldn't help but think of the night at the Gothic Circus. He made a mistake then, he lost his guard for only a second, which is why he was pushed into a circle of bloody flowers. He was stupid and allowed Catherine, who was controlled by Freak, to attack him from behind. And then he made the same mistake again, not noticing Jack sneaking up, shooting from an ambush. The cat expressed her thoughts rudely and too bluntly, but she was right about something. He's prey for a hunter who probably aimed at him back then, just missed and hit a weaker victim.

The victim that Danny was supposed to protect.

Meanwhile, Madeleine quietly approached the grain barrel and bent over it, listening intently, raising her paw over it. The claws slowly lengthened, extending to their full length, while the huntress herself froze and seemed almost not to breathe, carefully looking at the surface of the rump. As soon as one grain moved, she quickly fished out a third mouse from the millet. Completely white with tiny red eyes.

― Those who have been living among people for too long forget how to hunt and for some reason start to be afraid of someone else's death, ― the cat's voice became more thoughtful and quiet for something. She looked at the white mouse squirming in her claws with indifferent and cold blue eyes. ― Although those who start hunting them are not afraid to hurt them. Probably because they don't see them as their own kind, while like you at least want to appear much more human than the people themselves. As long as I've lived, I still can't understand it, ― the dark spots on Kotolak's forehead moved closer to the bridge of her nose, as if they really were her eyebrows. She herself seemed more and more thoughtful as she said all these frightening things. ― Real bipeds believe that they can kill and hurt even their own kind, while they train predators, killing them for the slightest disobedience. They have been taming dogs for centuries, putting a bullet in the forehead of the most rebellious and wayward. They have brought out for themselves personal obedient slaves who can be beaten if they do not obey, or if the mood is suddenly bad. And they try to do the same with people like you, instilling that hunting is for savages. Do you know why they do this?

The cat shifted her gaze to him. She looked straight into his eyes, blinking slowly. Only now did Danny notice that in this semi-wild form she had a split upper lip and thin long vibrissae on her cheeks, covered with barely noticeable white fur.

― This is how they get rid of rivals. They say that hunting is for wild so that they can get more prey themselves, ― the cat shoved the still―alive white mouse into the teenager's hands. ― They talk about morality and compassion for other living beings, although they themselves do not have these qualities and do not plan to acquire them. They talk about the wildness of hunting in order to turn it into something more perverse and call it art or entertainment. Predators are taught obedience and put on a short chain to make it easier to control those they fear the most. While you're thinking about the value of even a little mouse's life, they're thinking about how to tear you apart until you've learned how to use your claws for their intended purpose.

Danny could feel the warm, tiny body turning in his palms, scratching the fresh scar with his claws. How the frightened little heart is pounding inside the prey. He could feel the animal's rapid breathing coming out of its mouth along with a high-pitched squeak. The life in his hands was so fragile, weak, and touching, and killing her seemed somehow unworthy.

― Hunting is not about human sadism, cub, ― the cat rubbed her cheek against his head, gently placing her clawed paws on his shoulders. ― Cats are often accused of cruelty and the habit of playing with prey, but only because people like it themselves. Otherwise, we wouldn't be so obsessed with watching how we do it. They secretly enjoy such bloody shows, and we love being the center of attention. ― Danny listened to the purring voice distantly and almost didn't pay attention to how the rough tongue licked the top of his head a couple of times. ― But the best hunters kill their prey quickly. So that she doesn't even have time to realize that she's already dead. That's what I'm good at and what I can teach you.

Releasing Danny, the cat got down on all fours. Her body shrank several times, her white clothes turned into fur, and her long, graceful tail became an extension of her body. The cat took on a more familiar appearance, took two mouse corpses in her teeth and gracefully left the barn, leaving the teenager alone with a small mouse and heavy thoughts. Out of the corner of his ear, Danny could hear his aunt praising the “little huntress.” How happy she is that someone is finally helping her get rid of pests that eat up grain and spoil wooden skirting boards with their teeth, gnawing holes in them.

In his hands was a life that was considered a pest. Which was worthy of death according to the logic of things. At one point, he was just a pest to his father. A vile “ghost", ectoplasmic trash, unworthy even of posthumous life. Did agreeing to Kotolak's proposal mean matching this man's mindset? Belittle yourself to something equally wild? Or was it a banal balancing of the odds? Something honest that would just put them on an equal footing?

Danny suddenly remembered his biology teacher. Mr. Pibbet once said that evolutionarily man tried to get rid of dangers for himself in order to make life more comfortable. People tamed canines because they needed an acceptable ally in the struggle for survival, not just another competitor, of which there were already many. That only humans, as intelligent people, could figure out the most dangerous species for themselves and start methodically hunting it in order to reduce the potential danger. That people still sometimes feel an incomprehensible aversion to monkeys, even to themselves, because for many millennia of evolution they have become accustomed to seeing them as competitors in the struggle for a place in the sun and the very idea of at least some kind of kinship with them causes rejection.

Jack probably had the same deep-seated loathing for the Ghost. The feeling was so strong that it overshadowed all other emotions. Maybe it originated in the man's soul even before the incident with the portal, and the otherworldly flash that awakened the Ghost in the teenager's body became the catalyst for the hunter. An invisible target hanging on his face, which the man was aiming at without even really realizing the reason, and parental love was clearly not enough to stop aiming at this very target.

A mouse's spine cracked under his fingers. Danny did the same thing with the rodent as kotolak, exactly copying the movement with which she killed the captured prey. The tiny heart in the body was still beating, but the Ghost saw life, like a thin stream of whitish smoke, invisible to the human eye, leaving the body through the open mouth of a mouse. The smoke tasted like raw, unprocessed millet or an apple stone: bitter and tart. He squeezed the tiny body too hard. A drop of mouse blood rolled down the groove of the fresh scar on his palm.

***

The head abruptly flew off the palm on which the chin rested. Jess dozed off, exhausted from the flight, the long trip, and the early rise. An ink stain from a pen spread across the pages of the notebook in which she was taking notes, soaking several pages with a bold dot.

With a disappointed clicked her tongue, the girl hurriedly put down her stationery and made a pointless attempt to put the notebook in order, at least slightly removing the excess ink with a paper napkin. The radio was running at low volume on the edge of the windowsill, although the music was barely making its way through the hissing static. The wire leading to the antenna did a particularly poor job during the day, although Jess clearly remembered falling asleep late at night to soft music that sounded like light jazz.

She sighed wearily, somehow collecting the excess ink from the pages without smearing them on the paper and thinking that she should have brought more notebooks with her, as well as spare pen rods. While packing in a hurry, she thought more about more everyday and everyday needs, like insect spray, rather than about the office, completely forgetting that shops in the village of Split are not particularly rich in assortment. There was a small hope that he and his brother would somehow be able to go out into the city, take a walk, but this was clearly not going to happen in the near future.

The morning call from her mother completely knocked the girl out of her rut. The parent tried to sound cheerful, but both she and Danny were well aware that this was just an appearance. Mom tried her best to create at least an illusion of control over the situation, but it was useless. After the first articles covering the incident began to appear online, and even more so after a visit to my father in the hospital, everything became very clear. No one has any control over the situation, including Jack, whose condition, judging by the short story of Danny, who was lucky enough to talk to him on the phone, left much to be desired, to put it mildly. It's hard to even say what was the reason for the incredible denial he was stuck in. Whether it was a banal pretense or the shock of realizing his own actions had become such a severe blow to his psyche that his mind simply refused to accept everything that had happened as reality. Jess won't know for sure, not anytime soon anyway.

Jess has always been the most active and sociable of her classmates at school. Her circle of acquaintances was wide enough to get the title of a popular high school student, but in the current situation it played a cruel joke on her. Numerous followers on social media have become more like a pack of hungry hyenas. While still in the Peace Park, the girl turned off all possible notifications and closed the pages because of how actively her former friends were in a hurry to accuse her of being in league with a psycho. Danny shrugged his shoulders indifferently and said, “just ignore it, it's just people from the Internet.” Her brother definitely had a very thick skin, but if only it was that simple for her...

Through her sullen thoughts and the hiss of the radio, Jess heard the scratching of cat claws from the doorway. The animal stuck its small white paws under the door, trying to pick it up to enter the room. The curious little animal was terribly disliked by enclosed spaces that she could not look into. Professional literature said that this feline trait appeared due to the instinctive desire of small predators to control their territory completely, depriving owners and temporary owners of personal space. They were called unsuitable animals for anxious people with hypercontrol or ADHD precisely because of this trait, they say, it is impossible for two creatures so identical to get along. But this lump of fur somehow got along with Mr. Masters.

Opening the door to the hallway, Jess looked at the cat sitting in the aisle, which immediately stopped all attempts to enter her room after the doorknob clicked.

― What are you watching? Come in, since you've come, ― she invited the cat, who by a strange coincidence has the same name as their mother, into the room. However, the animal only briefly scanned the space of the room with its blue eyes and, yawning widely, turned around, gracefully strode down the corridor towards Danny's room, gracefully arching the tip of its tail, which caused Jess only the desire to roll her eyes. On the one hand, you would expect such behavior from cats, but on the other hand, it didn't make it any less annoying.

“Maybe that's why Masters gave it to Danny. If you constantly have to keep all the doors open in a hotel room for her to walk, even the suite will really be too small,” ― Jess thought, adjusting the bandage on her head and pushing strands of hair that had escaped from her face while she was dozing.

From the kitchen, the voices of my brother and aunt could be heard discussing something in a low voice, apparently while cooking dinner. The old grandfather clock with a pendulum in the living room showed fifteen minutes past two. It was already time for lunch, although the girl was not hungry at all. All physical needs were muted by the ever-itching longing somewhere in the center of her chest.

― ...Saturday in the central square, ― Jess heard only the end of Alice's sentence, stirring something in a large pot on the gas stove. Danny was chopping vegetables and boiled eggs at the table in front of a large glass bowl, into which he poured all the sliced meat.

― Were you woken up? ― the boy asked briefly, putting a couple of pickles on the cutting board, on which the drops of brine had not yet dried.

― No, ― she replied, immediately clearing her throat. His voice was very hoarse after a nap. ― What were you talking about?

― About the fair, ― Danny explained without looking up from slicing vegetables. ― It turns out that Split has grown a lot since we were here, and a small fair for locals has started to gather here on Saturdays so that you can avoid going to the city to buy groceries and necessary things every weekend. Do you want to go?

― I'd love to, ― Jess replied, sitting down across the table from her brother. ― I would also like to walk around the village, remember where and what is here, what has changed. It seems that when we were little, there were only old people living here and there were only a couple of streets.

― You can't imagine how many people in recent years have wanted to escape from the city with their whole family to live away from the hustle and bustle, ― auntie turned off the gas, covered the steaming pot with a lid to let the fragrant contents brew a little, and turned to the nephews, wiping her hands with a towel. ― You should probably really take a walk. Get to know the guys. There are kids about your age here. Maybe you'll find some friends among them for the summer.

It wasn't just Jess who was dubious about the idea, judging by her brother's expression. Danny has always been an outsider to some extent, making new acquaintances reluctantly and extremely clumsily. And Jess herself, after just a couple of days of harassment online, simply didn't want to communicate with anyone. You never know what will come into the head of the locals, to whom the news from their town has probably reached quite chthonically distorted and monstrous.

― Don't make such sour faces, ― Auntie exclaimed cheerfully, slapping Jess on the shoulder with a heavy, broad palm. ― Holing up in your rooms all summer is not an option anyway. And to make the walk a little more meaningful, you can help me collect a couple of missing barbecue ingredients. We'll marinate the meat in the evening, and tomorrow we'll roast it on wood, in the fresh air, we agree.

― Just for the barbecue, ― Danny chuckled, quickly licking his lips. If in childhood he could be persuaded to make the right choice with sweets and the promise to buy a comic book about his favorite superhero, now half-baked red meat has taken over their function.

After a light lunch, Jess's task was to replenish stocks of fruits and vegetables, as well as visit neighbors, who grew spices in their greenhouse and, surprisingly, were a married couple with seventeen-year-old triplets. Of course, they were too “young” for Jess, she preferred to communicate with people at least a little older than herself or the same age as a last resort, but in such a wilderness, the company was not worth finding fault with so much. Especially considering that, according to Alice, the triplets were aiming for admission to medical school. Potentially an almost ideal company for a sister.

Danny himself was sent to get wild wormwood and berries for the sauce, as well as brushwood, which for some reason had to be alder. But they didn't tell him to visit any specific neighbors, which was extremely suspicious. However, having changed into more shabby clothes, which would not be a pity to stain in the nearest forest with berry juice and tar, Danny did not particularly seek to cross paths with anyone. When he look like a cross between a sofa Rimbaud and a homeless man, he definitely won't want to make new acquaintances. Especially as a teenager, who left the house in the company of a cat, brazenly settled in a basket next to the ropes for faggots.

Passing by the central square, which was a large intersection of the seven main roads of the village, Danny tried to stay in the shadow of a building resembling a local church without any specific symbols of faith, and not attract the attention of teenagers playing baseball, guided by the dusty markings on the ground, lined with large flat stones. He was more immersed in considering kotolak's suggestion and still had fresh memories of the thin wisp of smoke that came out of the mouse's mouth with his last breath. He had never been so close to death before, and he had never witnessed anyone's demise so closely. If you don't take into account his own death, of course. He had seen human corpses before. He had even been bitten to death by some undead creature that had attacked him in the wreckage of an airplane, but at that moment he was not exactly himself, and he could not remember the details. Thinking back to the day of the crash, he remembered more of the feelings of hunger and pain, but the picture of what his eyes saw was kind of blurry. And any attempt to recall at least some details turned into burning scars on the lower back.

Thinking back to that day, Danny often began to wonder what would have happened if Vlad's “modest” secluded house hadn't been nearby. What would happen if you had to wait for help not for one night, but for several days or even weeks? What can happen if she and her mother ran out of food. If Maddie was a passable survivalist in the wild, then Danny could call himself an outright mediocrity in this matter. All he can do is distinguish edible berries and mushrooms from inedible ones, but would a carnivorous Ghost be satisfied with such a diet? Against the background of such thoughts, the cat's suggestion sounded like something really rational and useful.

― Watch out! ― Someone shouted, startling Fenton out of his gloomy thoughts.

The guy's body reacted faster than his thoughts and he managed to intercept the battered baseball before it collided with his nose. He looked at the object he had caught by wild chance with a degree of surprise, not fully realizing how he had pulled it off. After all, even he himself could not have called himself clever enough for such a thing. The once-white coating has worn away, cracked in some places and turned yellowish, and the red lacing has lost its former color. The ball has been played actively and often for a very long time. Even the name of the company managed to be erased from the surface of the ball.

― I'm sorry. How are you? ― asked one of the boys who ran up, who was about his height, but many times wider in the shoulders. His swarthy face was covered with a scattering of brown freckles, and his dark, unruly hair was somehow tucked under a cap.

― Fine, ― Danny smiled awkwardly, handing the ball to the teenager and trying, out of habit, not to look into his eyes, but slightly higher, at his eyebrows and in the center of his forehead. For some reason, the Ghost was terribly annoyed by all these staring. But the kid continued to stare at him, even after getting the necessary equipment back for the game.

― You look familiar, ― the second boy said thoughtfully. He was also stocky, but with longer hair, some of which was gathered into a small braid at his temple with a leather cord with beads in the shape of eyes, which attracted Danny's attention much more than the face of a village teenager.

― No, it must have been your imagination, ― Fenton said hastily, about to leave when a third player appeared on the way. Tall and obese with missing upper canines.

― Danny, it's you, isn't it? ― bigman asked with a slight lisp due to the lack of teeth. ― Alice Coroner's nephew?

The ghost didn't like being surrounded from several sides. It was annoying and made his heart involuntarily beat faster due to the growing sense of danger. School bullies usually used this ring to squeeze their victims so that there was nowhere to run. Danny barely suppressed the Ghost's low growl, bursting out of his throat along with a stream of cold air.

― Let's say, ― he said reluctantly. ― And you...

― So you really won't find out?! ― the first boy who ran up to him with a ball in his hands exclaimed. ― We spent so much time together when we were kids. Once, a window was smashed in your aunt's bar while playing soccer in front of it. Remember?

The images of the past in memory became very fuzzy after the incident. Danny would rather have been able to remember a smell or a sound, but his memory for faces was terribly failing him, especially lately. It was only by looking at the photograph that he could somehow focus his attention on the facial features. And it was difficult to recognize the guys by their voices, they broke down so much and changed over time. Only the memories of the broken glass were clear enough. He remembered this incident well because of how badly his ears burned after he was scolded by both his aunt and mother, forcing all the perpetrators to participate in cleaning up the fragments, one of which bit into his foot through the thin sole of his shoe. It was difficult to call these memories pleasant because of the consequences of children's fun, but they were definitely not dangerous either. The ghost calmed down a bit, having stopped paying so much attention to the fact that he was surrounded on three sides.

― I remember something like that, ― Danny replied, not very confidently. Attempts to find something familiar in the facial features did not bring much results. He didn't remember any large brown freckles, missing teeth, or a thin pigtail with a leather cord. ― But that was so long ago. Just like in another life.

― So there's a reason to introduce yourself again, ― the big man smiled with a gap―toothed mouth, holding out a large palm with stubby fingers. ― I'm Carl.

― Tod, ― the guy with the ball introduced himself. His skin smelled of sun and earth. ― And this is my brother Ed, ― he introduced the last, more taciturn guy with much thinner skin, but very rough and calloused fingers, covered with a fine mesh of cuts and with a couple of dusty cloth patches, which gave him away more like a master of painstaking handmade work in some workshop, rather than rougher work under the scorching sun. Which his brother most likely liked better. They looked very similar, and they were even dressed the same. They're probably very good friends, if not twins at all.

― How long have you been here? ― Carl asked, resting the bat on his shoulder. She was comically small in his huge hands.

― Since last night, ― Danny answered somewhat sparingly and still held himself tensely, straightening his back. ― We arrived late. It's strange that we haven't crossed paths with you before. After all, I was here last year, even if only for a short time.

― You came here in the fall, didn't you? ― Tod asked. ― We're already leaving for school at this time. Split doesn't have its own school, so we live most of the time in a boarding school in a neighboring town, so as not to spend several hours each way on the road every weekday.

― It's a little harsh,― Danny muttered softly, trying to imagine his life and meeting his family in two, five years. And that's if you're lucky enough to be home on the weekend. It didn't sound particularly rosy and pleasant, especially considering the rumors that usually go around such boarding schools with paramilitary orders.

― Come on, ― Ed waved off, shaking his head, causing the eye-shaped beads to clink together with a metallic tinkle. ― Better tell me how did you end up here? Are you guilty of something, that you were sent to your aunt for the summer?

― It's a long story, ― Danny tried to evade the answer, realizing that he was completely unprepared to be so open in front of the locals.

― You're from the Amity Park, aren't you? ― Tod asked, still trying to make eye contact with Fenton. ― There has been a lot of strange news about this town lately.

― That's putting it mildly. Mom sent us here so that we wouldn't become part of this news, ― Danny tried to laugh it off, but it came out somehow too gloomy. It's a pity that the guy realized this late, when the boys began to look at each other strangely.

― Has Miss Coroner put you up to any work yet? ― Tod asked, awkwardly and abruptly cutting off the topic of conversation just as the brothers were about to ask something else.

― Yes, I volunteered. I was bought with the promise of delicious steaks? ― Danny awkwardly scratched the fresh scar on his palm against the rough wicker handle of the basket, which so far held only a small rope for firewood and a lazily yawning cat. ― My aunt sent for wormwood and berries, but she didn't explain very well where to look for them.

― The lake grows the most, ― Tod said thoughtfully, scratching the back of his head and pushing his cap a little to one side with this gesture. ― But it is usually forbidden to go there alone in the summer because of the lake ladies.

― Because of who? ― Danny's curiosity got the better of his awkwardness and he couldn't hide the spark of interest. And I didn't really try, to be completely honest.

― Lake ladies, ― Ed repeated. ― Listen, let's take you there, and we'll tell you on the way.

The guys kept their word, on the way to an unnamed lake, not marked on some maps, as well as the village itself, they told tales about the local undead, which seemed no less colorful than its urban representatives. Judging by the description, the lake girls were something like freshwater mermaids. Surely another aquatic undead, like the Swamp Girl, could have told something more plausible about them than village tales, but for starters, this information was suitable for Fenton. Staying in the wilderness was no longer boring in the short term. In the light of day, the smooth surface of the lake with its eroded shores overgrown with reeds seemed completely unremarkable. Except that a small island with a wooden hut standing on four thick log cabins in the center looked a little strange. There was nothing like this in Danny's childhood memories. The guys explained that they had erected this building not so long ago, but the inhabitant almost immediately after settling gave his soul to God, disappearing into the dark waters of the lake. It seems that since that time, there have been conversations among the locals, because the body of the poor guy has not been found. Although, if you believe the stories of the guys, even some city divers were called who examined the bottom. But nothing but the giant catfish that attacked them, it is unclear how it turned out to be so far from its usual habitat, was not found. Maybe it was the two-meter-tall creature that caused the untimely death of the owner of the secluded cottage, but rumors and logic have always been at odds.

The cat, hearing small birds rustling in the bushes, left the guy, not wanting to waste his time on boring gathering. When the right amount of herbs and berries filled the basket, Danny continued on his way to get firewood alone, refusing help in this matter. He wanted to be alone in the forest. Alone with thoughts and a feeling of lightness. After making sure that no one was following him, the teenager became invisible and, assuming the form of a Ghost, soared high into the sky, leaving the basket tied to the top of a tree as a landmark.

Upstairs, the air was much thinner and pleasantly cool despite the bright sun. The ghost was happy to turn his face to the wind, enjoying the way he ruffled his white hair and once again became convinced that it was not the height that scared him more on the plane, but the iron structure that he could not control, more like a giant air cage.

At some point, the familiar trill of a mobile phone rang out in the Ghost's hip bag. It looks like he got so carried away that he flew away from the village long enough to pick up a signal from the nearest communications tower. It was very weak, but it was enough for notifications to start coming from a shared chat with friends, in which Sam and Tucker discussed who would be the first to risk going to visit and feed the physical incarnation of a three-hundred-year-old demon. Although Charlotte's spiders were relatively harmless, it would be wrong to treat them too lightly. Judging by the dialogue, the friends came to an agreement without quarreling, so Danny decided not to get into this dialogue unnecessarily. But the morning conversation with his mother left such an unsettling aftertaste that contacting her seemed necessary to the teenager. Just to make sure that at least she's not that bad. However, after a long ring, it wasn't her voice he heard at all.

***

Maddie was as white as chalk, and her heart was beating too fast and anxiously. It was to be expected that the new information about the world would be shocking to a woman in many ways. As the least bad option, Masters assumed that she, like ordinary people, would consider what he said a joke, that her own psyche and mind would block all paths to realizing that the world is full of the paranormal. It happens to people a lot. It is normal to ignore everything that is too much out of the ordinary and mundane. The ability to look at the surrounding reality through a variety of perception filters could even be called a kind of survival mechanism in a world full of otherworldly creatures that feed on this very attention. Some of them, like tulp, need to be noticed, it is vital that their disembodied existence is recognized by others, because they often cannot prove their own reality in any other way.

It's about the same with any other undead. Ghosts and Phantoms have a peculiar body, but often this variation of life after life has nothing to do with people's utopian ideas about the afterlife. The existence of most of them resembles hell. Hell is bad, and it's easier to ignore all the “bad” things so as not to spoil your mood once again, it's a pity, but such behavior often infuriates the dead, causing them to have a wild desire to appear in front of the lively ones who are stuck in their own denial, but they can't do anything particularly serious to those who sometimes don't even believe in them.. Vampires and other carnivorous creatures are a phenomenon too frightening for the human mind, because it calls into question the habitual safe belief that humans are at the top of the food chain, which nothing but other people can threaten. It's easier to ignore something so chthonic that you just don't go crazy. Stupidity did not help Jack's weak consciousness to escape from this dark abyss. Perhaps his mind simply could not cope with making sense of reality properly, but simply adjusted it to a convenient and already well-known paradigm for the hunter: “Everything unknown is dangerous. Everything dangerous must be destroyed.” This concept could be expressed in many ways, but they would all boil down to protection and the banal impossibility of perceiving reality as it is: full of senseless cruelty and monsters. To understand these very monsters is usually out of the question. This is already too difficult a task. With an asterisk.

But Maddie actively resisted her human nature. Squeezing her temples with her hands, she looked at the table and noisily inhaled air through her mouth. Vlad began to fear that, against the background of everything that had already happened, a woman could thoroughly tear off the roof and eventually she would be settled not far from her husband, in the next ward.

― Maddie, ― he said carefully, touching her shoulder lightly.

― How many creatures in the world are indistinguishable from humans, ― the sentence was said rather in an affirmative tone, although the context was more like a question. Vlad wasn't quite sure what to say to that, or if it was worth answering at all, but he decided to take this small risk.

― Enough, but I can't say for sure, ― he said, barely touching the skin on Maddie's neck with his fingertips. Her pulse was off the charts, but she tried to breathe steadily and deeply, which clearly did not help her blood to saturate with oxygen sufficiently.

― How many people were being hunted, not counting humans, ― it looked like the woman wasn't listening to him at all or just couldn't hear him. Her mumbling seemed completely unrelated, no matter how hard Masters tried to figure out what she was talking about. A hunter and researcher of ghostly energy, who had lived for many years with her husband, who was obsessed with hunting monsters, could not really equate cryptids and humans. Maddie's blood pressure jumped so much that a thick drop of blood slowly rolled down from her nose onto her pale lips.

― Maddie, you're too nervous, ― the man took a handkerchief out of his breast pocket to wipe the woman's face, and lightly squeezed the wings of her nose to stop the blood without tilting her head back. She paid no attention to all these manipulations, continuing to stare straight ahead.

Maddie stood up from the table, ignoring the man completely. She went to the jug of water, shuffling unsteadily, like a dream walker. Her pupils were severely constricted, and her hands were shaking, but even in that state, her mind was completely shut off from the vampire. He couldn't even begin to imagine what could be going on in her head now, when the whole familiar world had completely collapsed. Crumbled like a sand castle at high tide. All that remained at the moment was to follow her, listening for her pulse.

― A hybrid form of habitual and otherworldly life ... like spiders, ― Maddie muttered something completely unintelligible.

Trying to digest all the new information at once sent Maddie into a deep knockout. The jug of water slipped from her fingers, tipping over onto the table. Excessive mental efforts finally finished off the body, which was physically weakened by stress and insomnia. Vlad, who picked her up in time, prevented Maddie from hitting her head on the tile. Looking at the limp body in his arms and the puddle of cold water spreading across the tabletop and floor, the man only sighed heavily with the thought: “It could have been worse. At least this way she can get some sleep.”

The woman needed to lie down somewhere soon, and for this she chose a lonely empty room on the floor below, where Vlad got through the floor, becoming intangible. Laying Maddie on the bed sideways, he adjusted the pillows under her head, and once again wiped a thick maroon drop from her upper lip. Not to say that the bleeding was heavy, but even in this state, turning her over on her back would be fraught with blood getting into the respiratory tract, and I definitely didn't want to allow that. Taking off her hip bag, which was unzipped for some reason, Vlad put it on the bedside table. He took off the woman's shoes so that the patient would be a little more comfortable sleeping it off. He briefly looked at her leg, which had recently recovered from a fracture, just to make sure that the ankle bone had healed properly.

Maddie's phone buzzed in her bag on the bedside table. The woman was breathing calmly and evenly, clearly in a deep sleep at the moment, not responding in any way to the annoying buzzing. It was Danny, and after a moment's thought, Masters decided to answer. Focusing more on his own desire to hear the boy's voice than on logic and common sense.

― Hi, Mom! I hope I'm not interrupting, ― the young man chattered on the move.

― I can hear the echo in your voice, Daniel. I hope nothing happened, ― Vlad spoke softly, moving away from the bed with Maddie sleeping to close the blinds. Sleep became better in the semi-darkness.

― Uh... Uncle Vlad?... ― the teenager replied in confusion, clearly not fully understanding how to react to him. ― I didn't expect to hear from you. Where is Mom?

― She overworked, ― Vlad replied somewhat evasively. There was no need to exaggerate, the kid clearly had enough reasons for self-indulgence without that. ― Dozed off at work and didn't even hear the bell.

At the other end, through the light noise of static and wind, there was an annoying clacking and a heavy sigh. It was easy to imagine Danny closing his eyes and shaking his head. It doesn't seem to be the first time a teenager hears something like this about his own mother, the reaction was too calm. And if “overwork” This is Maddie's usual condition, so there was nothing surprising about fainting. It's a commonplace pattern for a chronically tired person who had to break down sooner or later.

― I thought there were problems with communication in the village where you were sent, ― Vlad decided to change the subject a little, turning to the bed. Maddie was still breathing deeply and evenly through her mouth, and color was slowly returning to her face.

— Well... I went for a walk here. Apparently, he went far enough to make the connection. ― the boy was also dodging, but somehow very awkwardly, which seemed strange to Masters. When he needed to come up with a lie to hide his secret, for the police or just too curious outsiders, his eloquence and persuasiveness could only be applauded. But when Daniel talked to him, all these qualities disappeared abruptly, turning the Ghost into a very ordinary teenager. It was even sweet to some extent, but it still raised questions.

― Gone for a walk in the air? ― Masters asked with a chuckle. ― Daniel, do you remember what we talked about?

― I need sit tight and keep a low profile, ― a disgruntled voice mumbled on the phone. ― But I'm in the wilderness, in the annals of the world, where even journalists would be too lazy to go, you said yourself.

― I said it was unlikely, not impossible, ― a thin ear caught through the static the cries of birds flying past the teenager and the flapping of their wings. ― I can understand your desire to relax and clear your head, but still try to be careful. I don't want you to get in trouble.

― Howe can I going to get into trouble here when you sent your supervisor with me, ―the teenager paused for a moment. The soft whistling of the wind in the speaker stopped, indicating that the teenager most likely stopped to say in a sinking voice: ― She offered me to study hunting.

Masters just rolled his eyes. This was similar to kotolak's usual behavior. Wild and bestial. To offer something like this to a child who has not yet had time to move away from the fact that he himself recently almost became his own father's trophy... However, the cat probably acted the way it thought would be best. Her ideas about right and wrong were very different from those more familiar to Daniel, and delicacy almost completely replaced straightforwardness, bordering on rudeness for most of those who do not know about her essence.

― Don't take it personally and don't pay attention, Danny, ― Masters said a little wearily. ― There are only good intentions in her thoughts about you, I can say that for sure, but they are still far from human morality. Don't be offended by her. Whatever she told you, that's it...

― Actually, I was thinking of agreeing, ― Ghost interrupted him, which baffled Masters.

One would expect anything, but obviously not this. It's a pity that the distance between him and Madeleine is too far to contact her mind without any problems and understand what she said so that the boy agreed to naturally learn how to kill from her. The cat was certainly good at this business, like almost all wild cats, she has something to pass on to a potential student. But still, such cruelty is clearly not suitable for a teenager. It does not fit in with his gentle and quiet nature, with his tendency to avoid major conflicts. However, Masters did not know his past completely. Maddie had mentioned that he'd gotten into school fights before and could obviously come home beaten up. But a school fight with a bully and neck-twisting prey had very little in common.

― Danny, ― Vlad said calmly, after a moment's thought. ― It's not something you should get into, believe me.

― Are you going to lecture me now? ― The teenager chuckled a little nervously.

― No, you know everything about morality without me, ― the man felt a slight melancholy, brushing an invisible speck of dust from one of the beige fabric slats of the closed blinds. ― I know how Her hunting goes, and I've been involved in it myself. Believe me, this is something you shouldn't get involved in.

― My father has already introduced me to hunting, so your warning is a little late,― such a dark joke could well have started to darken my eyes. ― I just want to look at her from a different angle.

Vlad did not think to consider the issue in such a way. I didn't want to think, to be honest. If he himself had always observed the relationship between the undead and hunters, both government guys in white and self-named adventurers like Jack, only from the side of the undead themselves, then Danny really had been on the other side of the barricades for most of his life. In fact, he was taught from childhood to shoot “at his own people.”

But still, this desire of the boy caused longing.

― I won't dissuade you if you've already decided everything. But don't forget that the position of the bloodthirsty monster is already occupied, ― his words caused the boy to chuckle briefly. ― I'll tell Maddie you called when she wakes up.

― Okay, ― Danny sounded a little more cheerful than he had a few minutes ago. But after a short pause, he became serious again. ― Can I ask you a small favor? I know that you probably have a lot of things to do anyway, but if possible, keep an eye on mom. She has a bad habit of ignoring her own ill health, but still continuing to work.

― I'll do my best, ― Vlad promised. There was nothing specific about this particular word. It was just a formality, considering that he was planning to do the same thing himself.

***

The thinnest threads glittered and glowed slightly in the darkness of her dungeon, and the pupils of the shuttles reacted to this. The eyes blinked every now and then, looking around and trying to see something in the unaccustomed darkness.

Her term of imprisonment was coming to an end. She was sure for sure that very soon she would have a good opportunity to get out and was not going to miss it. She also didn't want to leave so much valuable yarn here in the dungeon, in the custody of a boy who didn't know what to do with it anyway.

Jack is locked away from everyone, disarmed and almost harmless. The chance that he will get out of this is extremely small. It's not zero, of course, but it's as minimal as it could be. It was a shame, of course, not to get another Fenton, potentially the last of its kind, to take pride of place in its rich collection of hunter souls. But on the other hand, it wasn't the end of his existence yet. There may be enough reasons if life doesn't teach the poor guy anything.

The next shuttle turned out to be completely filled with a thin thread and set aside with the others. There was still a lot of yarn left, but Charlotte was never known for extravagance. All her work will not be wasted.

“When the Mourner comes, I'll be ready,” ― she said to herself, licking her grayish, cracked lips in anticipation of a hearty meal. ― “She's so compassionate and kind―hearted, and compassion has always been my favorite dish.”

***

Harry stayed in the car in front of the Plasmius Geneticus building for hours, entertaining herself only by listening to quiet music on her phone and carefully watching the people leaving the building. Most of them were employees, and from time to time there were people in medical coats from the hospital adjacent to the building, but the reporter was waiting for very specific people. More like a human, though. She planned to “accidentally” bump into Maddie and try to talk to her as an “old friend” before the official meeting at the Masters to scout the situation. Sticking up to the man himself in this way was, if not just useless, then also fraught if Vlad turned out to be in a bad mood. But Maddie was a much better target.: nervous, weakened by adversity, and never able to act in public. Getting something useful out of someone as pathologically honest as her would obviously be easier.

After about an hour, the journalist's patience was rewarded, but only partially. Maddie did indeed come out of the front door, but unfortunately in Vlad's company. It was obvious that the woman was not feeling well: there were bluish shadows under her eyes, her lips were almost white, her hair was disheveled, and her gait was somewhat uncertain. Vlad delicately held her elbow, just in case, purely out of politeness and for the sake of maintaining the image of a classic gentleman. At least from the outside, it didn't look like Maddie was leaning on him too much.

― Just look at these sweet couple, ― Harry muttered to herself, pointing her phone camera at them.

They seemed to be too close to each other. Closer than it should be according to the rules of decency in communication between a bachelor and a still married lady. Although who knows, maybe the information about the Fenton couple's divorce is still a rumor, and in this case, the scene unfolding in front of Harry's lens was even more awkward and reprehensible. Masters didn't hide his interest in Maddie at university, but it's been twenty years since then. People usually change after that long, but if this drama between them really drags on until now... Readers certainly love this, it's a pity that her excessively conservative editor from the Milwaukee magazine may reject the material, considering it too unsuitable for their publication. Although it would seem that it makes no difference. They appease readers who are greedy for drama, conflict, and dirt. She crave that she can only get stronger in a world full of eternal conflicts over nonsense and the need to be polite to every jerk whose tender feelings even a light summer wind can hurt.

While taking a photo, the reporter stopped looking at the phone screen at some point and focused on the “couple.” It was interesting to see this contrast between Maddie, who was fading under the weight of pressing problems, and Vlad, who was still statuesque and gorgeous, with a straight back that seemed fresh and rested, except that it didn't glow from the inside. Swap that ugly woman's jumpsuit for a dress, and the two of them would make a perfect illustration for some Gothic novel about a vampire and his unfortunate victim wasting away in front of his eyes.

Harry shook her head, trying to get rid of her obsessive and stupid thoughts. ― “Vampires... What are you thinking about!” ― She scolded herself for these terribly childish and unprofessional fantasies, worthy only of a column in some jaundiced publication. Vlad, meanwhile, kept up with Maddie, clearly intending to escort this sick woman home. This was no longer Harry's plan, but it would be foolish to get between them. As long as this slimy rich snake is spinning around, there will be no private and frank dialogue with Maddie. “How unfortunate” Harry thought, starting to flip through the photos in the hope that there would be at least one successful one among them. And there was one.

Goosebumps ran down her spine. In the only decent and not blurred photo, Vlad Masters looked directly into the camera, into her eyes through the lens. The pupils of his eyes turned out to be two illuminated red dots in the middle of the blue irises. For some inexplicable reason, the artificial intelligence of the smartphone's camera did not automatically correct this red-eye effect, as it did with any photo before. But it wasn't even that that caused the unpleasant nervousness, but some kind of general feeling from the photo. The feeling of something wrong and broken that comes when an irritated beast, many times stronger in strength, looks straight into her eyes, and she understand without words, any unnecessary movement will become an excuse for him to grab her throat.

“It must be just because of the color combination," ― Harry tried to reassure herself. ― “Blue and red look too contrasting. You just need to fix it a little bit in the editor.”

A delicate but rather ringing knock on the car window made the journalist flinch, almost dropping the phone from her hands. Vlad himself was peering through her car window with the most charming smile possible. You shouldn't have expected anything good when a man in authority smiles at you like that. “He noticed," she screamed in her mind, locking her phone and putting it on the passenger seat.

― Good evening, Mr. Masters, ― Harry tried to remain calm and calm, but she didn't get out of the car just in case. ― What a surprise.

― That's not the word. I thought the secretary had scheduled a meeting with you for tomorrow, ― the man was smiling, and the pleasant voice was sweeter than honey, but it was not so easy to get rid of the feeling of danger. This is Masters, a man whose business it was fraught with. There were rumors that one of the former employees tried to go where he shouldn't have been and was never seen again. Naturally, these were just rumors without any evidence. Plasmius Geneticist is characterized by minimal staff turnover and such vivid incidents would certainly have caught the reporter's eye.

“You'd get caught, wouldn't you?”

― I was studying the route and taking a closer look at the area, ― Harry tried to keep his face in case of a bad game, hearing the muffled tapping of the man's fingers on the roof of the car. ― I also need to take a couple of photos for the material, so as not to waste time on it before the interview.

― What a serious approach! You really are a professional, Miss Chin, ― the man's restrained smile grew a little wider, but his blue eyes remained just as unfeeling and cold. There wasn't even a glimmer of friendliness in them. It's a subjective indicator, but she shouldn't have counted on something less ephemeral in a dialogue with this person.

― You flatter me, ― Harry tried to wave it off with a grin, feeling a cold sweat break out on her back. All that remained was to hope that her words sounded at least half plausible to him. Harry didn't want to fall out of favor with him before his time. It's one thing to write articles with a hint of yellow about all sorts of “amorous” nonsense that people like Masters won't pay attention to, and quite another is what she's up to.

― Well, in that case, see you tomorrow. I'm sure you won't forget to check your technique, because it can fail at the most inopportune moment, ― a strange hint, but Harry could not fully understand its meaning. ― However, I am sure that you are well aware of this.

The man straightened up and finally walked away from the car. All this short time, it seemed to her that one invisible cold hand was squeezing her throat, and the other was forcing her lips to stretch into a fake smile, which quickly began to hurt her cheekbones. It was as uncomfortable as possible to have a conversation with this person in such circumstances. It seemed that she were doing it standing under X-rays, that your body and thoughts were shining through.

Sitting in the back seat of a private car with tinted windows, Masters finally disappeared completely from sight, allowing Harry to exhale. Unfortunately, Maddie was also nowhere to be seen. Most likely, she either took a taxi home while Masters was distracting the journalist's attention, or, more likely, was sitting in the same car with him now. For some reason, Harry was much more confident in the second option. A snake wouldn't just let its prey fall into her hands.

Sighing with annoyance, Harry picked up her phone and unlocked the screen. The photo gallery application that was left running crashed and immediately closed, which made the woman tense up, especially after Masters' words. Opening the app again, Chin found that most of the photos were damaged, they simply did not open and did not show previews.

The smartphone has completely shut down. A slight ripple ran across the touchscreen and an application with a radio opened by itself, which was probably not used by anyone except the elderly. It turned out to be tuned to a local wave in which the usual cheerful voice, so similar to the local news star Tiffany Snow, was broadcasting:

“...And now with the weather news, my beloved colleague Lance Sanders will speak! So, Lance, tell us what awaits the residents and guests of our beautiful city tomorrow.“

The application could not be closed. The touch screen simply did not respond to touch, only rippled and glitched. Even Harry couldn't turn down the volume of the speakers, the equipment was so badly stuck. Vlad's words seemed to have become a curse for her.

“In addition to the bright sun, cloudless sky and beautiful but not comfortable thirty-nine degrees Celsius, our region is expecting small magnetic storms. In such cases, we warn that this may affect the operation of electronic equipment. Especially the technicians of our colleagues from Milwaukee!“ ― Against the background of the man's cheerful voice, Tiffany's ringing laugh rang out, which sent goosebumps down Harry's spine and chilled somewhere deep in his chest.

“The Amity Park is strange.”

***

― Are you sure you won't need a doctor? ― Masters asked, closing the front door behind them.

The decision to come home after work in the company of a man, while still being kind of an officially married woman, while you and your family received excessive media attention, was, to put it mildly, questionable. But on the other hand, can gossip make her situation even worse than it already is? Maddie found it difficult to answer this particular question, and the fact that such news could reach Jack bothered her much less at the current moment than her own condition. The afternoon nap after fainting gave her the opportunity to rest a little, but after it her head started to hurt. She seemed too broken to herself, and the man's attentiveness only unpleasantly emphasized her weakness.

― I'm sure, ― she replied listlessly. The first thing she did was head to the second floor, pausing on the steps for a minute to look back at the guest. ― I need to get cleaned up, so...

― I can get you something to eat in the meantime, ― Masters offered, starting to undo the buttons of his double-breasted jacket.

― It's not worth it... ― the attempts to resist the persistent care looked more than pathetic, and to some extent Maddie herself understood this perfectly well.

― I insist,― Vlad smiled a little wider, carefully hanging his jacket on the hanger. ― Not only are you obviously still feeling unwell, and I sincerely would not like to lose a potentially valuable new employee, but I also promised your son to look after you.

― And you take promises seriously, ― Maddie barely held back a sarcastic laugh as she watched the man take off his burgundy tie, finally losing his strict formal look.

― How could it be otherwise? ― A slight grin allowed the white sharp fangs to flash slightly between the man's bright lips. Maddie could only wonder why she hadn't noticed them before.

The woman could hardly believe that someone like Vlad would condescend to cook at least once in his life and at the same time do something at least a little edible. She wanted to take a look at such a show just out of curiosity, and for that reason alone, she didn't object anymore. The billionaire and cooking― regardless of the outcome, it was supposed to be fun.

When the soiled overalls and underwear were sent to the laundry, clean clothes were waiting on the bathroom hanger, and the headache pill was swallowed, Maddie with undisguised pleasure put her face under the cool jets of water in the shower, allowing her to wash off not only the day's dirt and sweat, but also to ease at least a little thoughts. The new information she received during the day overloaded her too much, and rethinking everything she knew about the world earlier turned out to be too much of an impossible task for a frankly tired mind.

Her thoughts returned to the day when she first came across the spiders glowing from an overabundance of ectoplasmic energy. Then it occurred to her that most of the manifestations of the supernatural in history could be associated with a random symbiosis of ordinary people and otherworldly matter. It was strange to realize that she was both right and wrong in this very bold assumption. For people like Masters, ectoplasm in the body, judging by some of the symptoms described, did cause reactions that were attributed in various myths to vampires and ghouls. Excessive sensitivity to sunlight, painful pallor, obvious signs of acute anemia and blood poisoning. One could assume that the manifestations of different groups of people were not the same, which formed such diverse manifestations of “evil spirits” in the minds of superstitious people. However, she was still mistaken, assuming that in their world there are only ordinary people, to whom Vlad did not even try to classify himself. They have very definite differences from the classic homo sapiences, but nevertheless they are as similar to them as possible in appearance. There was something creepy and wrong about it. Something that made Maddie remember her recent nightmare.

The water suddenly seemed too cold, and the woman turned on the hot shower faucet a little more to warm herself. The idea that there were a lot of such “not quite people”, that it was impossible to identify them in a crowd unless they behaved like the last paranoid, that they did not seek to show themselves, preferring a safer society of their own kind, was not so much frightening as frustrating. Jack called himself a hereditary hunter of evil spirits. His family distinguished themselves during the Salem trials as the most competent in this matter. He considered himself capable of distinguishing the undead from humans, and in the end he was right, hitting the very undead he was hunting with a single shot. However, this discovery only caused Maddie to feel even more disgusted, from which she began to actively rub her skin with a washcloth.

“Hunting for people not like us," ― there was something stickily unpleasant and smelled of pus in this thought. Something so global that it seemed impossible for one person to export. The only thing scarier was to realize that your own child was a part of it. Or maybe even she herself.

Maddie rinsed off the soap suds and got out of the shower, drying herself with a towel. The feeling of clean cloth on my body was the only pleasant feeling lately. Her condition was slightly better after taking the painkiller. Yes, she still felt weak inside and her fingertips trembled slightly as she relaxed her hands a little, but still.

When Maddie came out of the bathroom, the first thing she noticed was a pleasant aroma from the first floor, and she was surprised to realize that she was probably going to have quite an edible dinner. Although in her head, the coughing Masters still seemed as improbable as before. The man looked even too homely as he served her a full plate of fried rice with vegetables and pieces of beef. It was as if this man and that strict businessman she was talking to this afternoon were two different people.

― It smells amazing, ― Maddie said, sitting down at the table and pushing the plate closer.

― I hope it tastes good, too. After all, I rarely cook, ― Vlad's own portion was much smaller and was more present for show, since the first thing he did was take a cup of coffee. Pretty strong, judging by the smell.

Even though the food was actually quite simple, if not rustic, it wasn't until she put the first portion in her mouth that Maddie realized how delicious it was. Of course, there was always the possibility that her sudden desire to get rid of her portion as quickly as possible was more driven by hunger, lack of lunch, and physical condition. But that didn't stop them from enjoying the delicate taste of the meat.

― Why don't you eat it yourself? ― Maddie asked, forcing herself to chew her food more thoroughly rather than swallow it whole.

― I'm just not particularly hungry, ― the man replied somewhat evasively.

Maybe it was only now that Maddie suddenly realized that she hadn't even seen him eating at the party. Most of the time he was standing with a drink in his hands, but he didn't put a single piece in his mouth. To distract herself from the strange thought, Maddie turned her gaze to his hands and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up above the elbow. There were grayish marks on the fair skin, such as usually remain from ulcers, more like small craters. His gaze caught on a slightly greenish patch of skin near the crook of his elbow. It looked like he had just accidentally gotten dirty in the ectoplasm, except that this glow was coming out from under the skin.

― What is that? ― Maddie asked, pointing at the strange spot.

Vlad glanced at his hand and exhaled a little irritably, putting down his cup of coffee. He began to turn back his sleeves and fasten the buttons of his cuffs, while maintaining an unnerving silence.

― Vlad?― Maddie put down her instruments, focusing all her attention on the man.

― Don't pay attention, please, ― the voice sounded a little cold, and the friendly smile became strained and formal again. ― Just one of the manifestations of the disease.

Watching Vlad hide his scarred hands from her, Maddie realized that she wasn't the only one hopelessly trying to hide her own weakness in their company. Judging by the medical records, ectoplasmic infection is the most unpleasant thing. One of the patients has already died and his cold corpse is being carefully examined at the local morgue by Masters' subordinates in full protective gear. He himself somehow got out many years ago and the disease obviously went into remission, but judging by the greenish trace under the skin, he decided to remind himself again.

***

Towards four o'clock in the evening, Aunt Alice went to work, which she had missed yesterday due to the arrival of her nephews. The bar opened at five, if Danny's memory served him right, and closer to six the first workers from the nearest farm, the slaughterhouse, and it seems the inhabitants of another very tiny village with no name nearby arrived. Quite a lot of people actually lived and worked in this wilderness, if you start to think about it. As a child, the village seemed to be literally dying out, but over time the situation has clearly changed dramatically.

They had dinner with Jess in the company of only each other. Sister chatted incessantly about a new acquaintance, the eldest daughter of the Hoers family, to whom her compassionate aunt had sent her that afternoon to buy spices. Unlike her sisters, if Jess's story is to be believed, she was the most “mentally mature,". What you need to get along with your sister's characters, although who knows, maybe in this situation two identical poles will eventually start to push off from each other as they approach.

During the evening call home, Danny listened with special attention to his mother's voice. He suspected that Vlad might have “slightly” downplayed the severity of her condition, sincerely believing that he was doing it with the best intentions, but it was precisely because of this evening call home that the teenager waited with increasing anxiety. Fortunately, her relatively cheerful, albeit slightly hoarse voice calmed him down a little. She probably wouldn't have told the truth herself, either, so Danny didn't even try to ask directly. The strange thing was that there seemed to be some other poorly recognizable sound in the background, which the teenager attributed to a working TV. It's a little strange, because Mom didn't spend much time with him. Maybe she just didn't want to set a bad example for the children? However, this was not so important anymore. Everything was more or less fine with her, and that's the main thing.

Closer to midnight, when his sister was already sleeping peacefully to the soft, light music of a surprisingly high-quality old radio, Danny turned off all the lights in the room, took on his otherworldly form and flew out invisibly, breathing in the fresh night air, cooled after the heat of the day. “Cover me if anything," ― he whispered to the cat, who was looking at him with big blue eyes, sitting on the windowsill. It was as if she could still see him. However, it's a cat, maybe she really saw him.

The guy was motivated by curiosity. After hearing a story about the inhabitants of the lake and the mysterious disappearance of a local hermit. It was interesting how much he was being truthful. As he flew over the plots, Danny kept hearing local dogs start barking in his direction, sensing a stranger too close to their territory. In most houses, the lights had long been extinguished, and only occasionally, behind the closed colorful curtains, the warm glow of children's nightlights was noticeable.

The barking of the dogs soon remained far behind, and the local lake spread out in front of the guy. The night was bright and cloudless, the milky light of the moon reflected from the mirrored surface of the water, illuminating from almost all sides a small island with a tiny wooden house hidden in the shade of rare trees. The windows were still intact, and the porch was only slightly overgrown with moss. The abandoned building had just begun to be devoured by nature, sowing grass seeds on the roof.

Curious, Danny peered inside, passing through the door. The house clearly used to belong to an artist who moved to this wilderness in search of inspiration and silence, but found only eternal peace. Along one of the walls there were many unframed canvases depicting local landscapes, most of which were somehow dedicated to the nameless lake from different angles, at different times of the day and seasons. Although there were also those in which the emphasis was on timid wild animals coming to the watering hole or local residents picking berries and herbs by the water. It seems that Danny even recognized his aunt in one of them.

“It's strange, there are so many paintings and no one has taken them away,” ― the teenager thought, continuing to look around the small building, the objects in which were covered with a thin layer of dust. There were discarded tools on the worktable, which also remained untouched, as if the owner had left only a few hours ago, although the house was definitely empty, the bed in the tiny bedroom was empty and neatly made, and the small cast-iron wood stove was cold and had clearly not been heated for a long time, judging by the rustle of some kind of animal inside, which I've arranged a place for myself there.

“Was the person who lived here really so lonely that there wasn't even anyone to take his or her things?!" ― Danny thought to himself in surprise as he continued to look around.

The ghost randomly picked up a thick-bound sketchbook from one of the shelves. Skimming through it, he noticed that the scattered and haphazard sketches were dedicated to water and fish. The unknown author sketched a lot of body parts of aquatic inhabitants from different angles and in incredible detail, his own completely human limbs, but the only sketch of the self-portrait was filled with ink so that it was not possible to recognize the facial features. Sometimes, among the sketches, there were cursory sketches of a dwelling or a table with cooked simple food. But there were still more fish, individual scales, claws, and shells.

After putting the album back in its place, Danny noticed an oddity. Most of the objects were covered with dust, but there was no dust on the desktop, despite the creative chaos that remained untouched and dirty brushes with traces of long-dried paint. Danny ran his palm over the tabletop a couple of times to make sure his eyesight wasn't failing him.

― What kind of nonsense is this? ― He muttered to himself. The more he looked at the details, the more dust-free things he noticed. Which was strange for an abandoned cabin in the middle of a lake that didn't even have a boat that anyone could use to get here. But the dust could not so selectively decide which objects to lay down on and which to leave clean. There was definitely someone here.

The Ghost's sensitive ears could hear the soft splashing of water from the street, although there was still no wind. Perhaps it was the one who continued to visit this house who was now splashing in the lake under the moon. Having regained his invisibility, the teenager quietly slipped into the street and froze, feeling his cheeks begin to burn and his heart beat faster.

A girl about seventeen years old was sitting on an old wooden boat dock with a group of friends. Their waist-naked bodies were covered only by long wet hair stuck to their skin, which only emphasized the smooth curves of their figures. The girls were whispering about something, giggling periodically. One of them slid off the dock and took a palmful of water to playfully pour over the other two. In the moonlight, their greenish hair had a silvery sheen, and their skin looked pearly white and sparkling with water droplets.

― Hello, dear boy! ― A girl splashing in the water suddenly exclaimed. Only now did Danny realize that with minimal care and concentration, he had also lost his invisibility.

After calling out to her friend, the other two girls also turned in his direction with smiles on their faces with incredibly smooth and rounded features. Their eyes were big and bright, and their lips were full and bright. They began to wring their hair out of the water, pushing it behind their backs, which only made the boy's face redder.

― Dear boy, what are you doing here so late? ― the voice of one of the girls was incredibly melodious and gentle. She slid off the dock into the water without taking her eyes off him. Slowly she began to swim along the shore. Get closer to him.

― Did you come to swim in our lake? ― asked the third girl, who remained sitting on the dock. ― Play and frolic in the water? ― It seemed to Danny that he was rooted to the ground and could neither leave nor turn away. It sucks to be a teenager at times like this. ― If so, then don't stand on the shore. Come to us!

A stream of cold air burned the ghost's throat, slightly cooling his young and hot head. Somehow pulling himself together, the guy still noticed the pearlescent sheen of scales on the hips of the girl who remained sitting on the dock. Her sharp claws on webbed fingers, which she impatiently tapped on the damp wood.

― Come on, come to us! ― one of the girls had already swum too close to him and, scooping up water with her palm, splashed it at him, aiming at his face.

― No thanks, ― Danny dodged the water spray, finally pulling himself together and soaring into the air. Just in time, because the mermaid closest to him sprang out of the water with a frisky leap, almost clutching at him with her claws. However, instead, she fell to the damp ground with a wet slap. Now the guy could see that below the waist this creature had a fish tail covered with shiny scales. The tales of the locals definitely turned out to be more than plausible.

Rushing towards the shore, Danny did not expect that they would be able to jump out of the water to this height and grab his leg, dragging him to the bottom with all their weight. In the dark water, the gleam of scales, white fish eyes, and sharp teeth like ice fragments could be seen from all sides in the dim rays of moonlight. The sounds were muffled, and the air in his lungs was rapidly running out. It was useless to break free from the iron grip of the undead, and the water column slowed down any movement, reducing the force of the blow to almost nothing.

A spark of ghostly energy escaped from his fingertips and scalded the paw holding him in a death grip, allowing him to free himself and blinded the sensitive eyes of the mermaids that surrounded him from all sides. The fish staggered back, covering their faces with their hands and opening their toothy mouths in a soundless scream. Danny rushed to the surface as fast as he could and immediately rose as high into the air as possible, spitting out the water that got into his throat.

When he reached the shore and stepped onto solid ground, the guy first tried to clear his throat, gasping for air and brushing strands of wet white hair from his forehead. The jumpsuit clung uncomfortably to the body, and the boots full of water squished with every movement.

― Yeah, you're really just a little kitten, kid, ― a familiar purring voice came from somewhere above. ― But you've learned a new lesson. Don't distracted by bare boobs.

Madeleine in her half-beast form sprawled impressively on a thick tree branch. She lazily swung her hind leg and cunningly squinted her sparkling eyes in the dark, looking down at him in every sense of the phrase.

― You're asking too much of him, ― one of the lake girls replied, laughing melodiously from the water. On her slender neck, thin gills fluttered with each inhalation and exhalation, becoming almost invisible, pressing against the white skin.

― Wait, are you in cahoots?! ― there was no limit to the guy's indignation. ― Did you know that and who was waiting for me here and didn't warn me?!

― You wouldn't have listened to me anyway, would you? ― Kotolak grinned, showing predatory fangs. ― Who will listen to the cat? And I had something to hide, I wanted to see what you would do in an unusual situation.

― They almost drowned me! ― Danny exclaimed, rising into the air to be on par with the brazen werewolf.

― But they didn't, ― Maddie said, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement. She was clearly genuinely enjoying everything that was happening with her future student and her master's protégé, who, by the way, clearly did not give her permission for something like this.

The ghost threw the shrieking werewolf from a tree branch right into the water to the ringing laughter of the mermaids. An eye for an eye. Wet wool for soaked clothes. Everything was fair.

***

He came here to fish. His collection already included various mermaids, sirens, water nymphs, and even one small river dragon. Only the lake ladys was missing. A special place had already been prepared for her effigy. But this blond-haired boy completely captured his attention. Looking at him through binoculars, the hunter already imagined how his formalin-soaked body would look good in his chambers. There was just an empty space between the werewolf and the yeti.

Yes, he was obviously too small for good hunting, but he wasn't going to wait for this little animal to grow up. This handicap would be too generous for the future prey that was splashing around in shallow water in the company of some mangy useless cat that wasn't even suitable for a bed mat.

The upcoming hunt promised to be incredibly easy and fun with these two as the game. And the Hunter intended to play with them properly before returning to the other world with new trophies.

Removing the binoculars from his eyes, he looked out from the top of the hill at the lake with a small island almost in the very center. There was a small settlement very close by, but the local aborigines were clearly not to be feared. After all, what can any people do to him?

[ris-n]

The Chess

The Chess – Danny Phantom, Alex Andreev, Sergey Chekmarev, Sergey Lukyanenko and others The team of authors: «METRONOMICON» Fanfiction by Na

Read 'The Chess', a Danny Phantom, Alex Andreev, Sergey Chekmarev, Sergey Lukyanenko and others The team of authors: «METRONOMICON» fanficti

Chapter 20: Wild beasts (part 1)

Summary:

― I was fulfilling my civic duty. As a true patriot, he defended the inhabitants of his country, the inhabitants of the Peace Park, from the monsters that made their way into our world! Monsters living at our expense! Maddie felt her stomach twist, and all the blood drained from her face. Jack couldn't say that in court. He couldn't justify himself with what she was thinking. No one in their right mind could. She stared at her husband, his wide smile with even, snow-white teeth, feeling her internal organs grow heavier, as if turning to stone. How my fingertips feel numb, as if the blood has stopped flowing to them properly. — Objection! — The voice coming from somewhere to the left seemed vaguely familiar, but it was slightly muffled and distorted by an otherworldly echo. — They were people. The most ordinary ones, like you and me. ― Can you prove it? — Jack asked. The white bandages where his ear used to be began to soak in blood. Slowly, as if a new wound had opened under a bandage. Much more terrible than one could imagine. ― To prove that they are human? What are you people able to prove?

Something was wrong in the courtroom. Maddie couldn't quite answer the question “what exactly?”even to myself, and didn't notice this oddity right away, but only after Jack appeared in front of the jury with a comically huge headband covering his damaged ear. He was wearing a familiar and well-known orange work jumpsuit, but with a colorful striped tie over it, which he usually wore at more serious events along with a suit. The awkward appearance seemed even more strange against the background of the restrained jurors and the judge in a black robe. Bizarrely bright against the background of something more normal. "Didn't he even realize where he was going?" — Maddie asked herself, staring at her husband. The feeling of something terribly wrong slowly mutated into anxiety.

― Jack Fenton, do you have anything to say to the accusations? ― the judge's voice seemed to be somehow electronic, as if it was being voiced by a voice assistant.

For some reason, Maddie couldn't figure out when she had listened to the moment of Jack's accusations. I tried to focus on the judge or one of the jurors, but it only made me feel sick and had a headache. The faces of everyone present seemed to be shapeless and twisting into an endless spiral. Everyone except Jack.

― Yes, Your Honor! — The man's voice sounded cheerful and loud, and a wide smile did not leave his face. ― I was fulfilling my civic duty. As a true patriot, he defended the inhabitants of his country, the inhabitants of the Amity Park, from the monsters that made their way into our world! Monsters living at our expense!

Maddie felt her stomach twist, and all the blood drained from her face. Jack couldn't say that in court. He couldn't justify himself with what she was thinking. No one in their right mind could. She stared at her husband, his wide smile with even, snow-white teeth, feeling her internal organs grow heavier, as if turning to stone. How her fingertips feel numb, as if the blood has stopped flowing to them properly. This is probably how the victims of the Greek Gorgon felt, looking the monster cursed by Athena right in the eyes. She knew she couldn't take her eyes off him. Can't move anymore and looks around, turning only her eyeballs.

— Objection! — The voice coming from somewhere to the left seemed vaguely familiar, but it was slightly muffled and distorted by an otherworldly echo. — They were people. The most ordinary ones, like you and me.

― Can you prove it? — Jack asked. The white bandages where his ear used to be began to soak in blood. Slowly, as if a new wound had opened under a bandage. Much more terrible than one could imagine. ― To prove that they are human? What are you people able to prove?

— Accepted —The sound of the judge's gavel was so deafeningly loud that it seemed to hit Maddie right on the skull. ― The country's constitution protects only people and gives them rights only. If the victim is not a human being, then we cannot judge Mr. Fenton on the charges that have been brought against him.

— Are you serious? — Maddie stammered, looking Jack straight in the eye.

— Yes, dear. We're serious, — he was still positive and smiling, not a drop of contempt or cunning reflected on his face. He just kept looking at her like an innocent child, blinking his big blue eyes with long black eyelashes, inherited by his son. ― Prove that this creature is human, and not dirty carnivorous evil spirits. Prove that she has the same rights as me, you, or anyone else here.

― This is absurd, ― it seemed to Maddie that the internal organs were twisted by a terrible spasm. It seemed that instead of guts, there was an animated tangle of snakes inside. ― Why does anyone have to prove that they are human at all? What kind of ruler can you use to measure this?

— You have no proof! — Someone shouted from the jury box.

— Not a single one!

― Only for killing people can you be tried to the fullest extent of the law!

Maddie felt her head start to spin, as if the blood was gradually draining from her body. The one that soaked Jack's headband almost through and through, and which is now seeping through the bandages in viscous drops, accumulating on his bulky cheekbone and slowly sliding to his chin. Maybe it really was her blood, and not men at all? Was he taking her for himself to appear more innocent in the eyes of others, and she had almost no strength left to respond to him? Maybe that's the point of this stupid blindfold? Cause pity, because the poor are more likely to be believed. Surely the victim will be believed because she is a victim?

― He hurt our son, ― Maddie said with difficulty. Her mouth felt as dry as if hot sand had been poured down throat. ― He've been experimenting on our son. Almost killed him.

― Is he human? ― Jack asked with a smile. The sticky scarlet blob that gathered on his massive chin grew larger and larger, but it never broke off on his orange work overalls and stupid colorful tie.

― He's your son... ― Maddie tried to retort, but the man abruptly interrupted her.

― Yours, ― man said emphatically. ― It was you who created the monster and brought it to the human world, not me.

― What..., ― the remnants of blood pounded in her ears, drowning out the voices of the members of the jury, the judge and the lawyer, whose face she never saw. Only Jack's voice was still steady and clear. It was as if he was talking it all directly into her brain. ― You're talking nonsense.

― Nonsense, it's like two ordinary people could have a monster, ― Jack shrugged. The jury supported his words with laughter, as if they were watching some kind of performance, rather than helping to find the culprit in a terrible tragedy. The culprit is that one child was left disabled, and the other was naturally put into a torture chamber in early childhood. ― The laws of humans cannot be applied to monsters. Even the laws that apply to animals should not apply to them. They're not even animals.

Maddie couldn't believe her ears. Didn't they get a fair trial? Are their rights less than even those of some decorative dog that people get to entertain them with a mischievous character? Did everyone here think so except her?

Her stomach twisted from the new spasm so much that she was finally able to come out of her stupor and look away from Jack. Hugging herself, she looked down at the dark wood table. A bright neon-pink liquid with a peculiar metallic odor spilled over the carelessly scattered sheets of paper with paragraphs from the constitution. Soaking the paper, she blurred the letters on the pages, erasing line by line. Erasing everything that this document called “human rights,” leaving in place only a ridiculous substance similar to what a small child would call unicorn blood because of the positive color and sparkles.

Turning her head slightly to the left, Maddie almost screamed in horror. The headless body of Vlad Masters was sitting on the chair next to her. The incision on the neck was clean and even, as if made by some incredible surgeon or the most skilled executioner in history. It was from this wound that a pinkish, shiny substance flowed in torrents, pushed out of the severed cervical artery by pulsating currents. The white shirt was already completely soaked by this something, and the red bow tie had slipped to the side due to the fact that the knot had been cut as well as the neck. The severed head lay on the table next to it, right on top of a thick book, on the spine of which the word “Law” was printed in gold. Vlad's blue eyes were veiled in a ghastly whitish haze, but they were still open and staring straight ahead.

When the woman tried to get up, she only fell from her chair to the floor, still staring at the headless body in disbelief. Her heart was pounding against ribs from the inside, and my breath was coming in short gasps, as if from a long run. It was difficult to get up from the slippery wet floor, but the desire to escape was stronger than anything. Maddie clutched at the armrests and backs of the empty benches, where neither journalists, observers, nor close relatives were sitting. She could hear footsteps behind her. A lot of feet were slapping the wet floor in an attempt to catch up with her, stop her, hold her in place. The door from the courtroom gave way with difficulty and slammed shut right behind Maddie as she left.

But the picture outside was even worse.

Danny. Her boy's face, covered in blood, peeked out of the iron maiden's sarcophagus in place of the open mask. Strands of black hair, wet with blood, stuck to his forehead, and his large blue eyes were inflamed from crying. He couldn't scream, but his lips moved, repeating only one thing over and over again.:

“Mom... mom... Mom...”

The iron maiden's mask snapped shut with a metallic clang, drowning out the boy's hoarse, desperate scream. Tears of blood flowed from the statue's eyes, making its pained face even more terrifying. Blood flowed from all the cracks of the statue, accumulating in one giant puddle on the floor. Maddie tried to open the torture instrument to free her son, but her hands slipped on the metal wet with blood. She was unable to open this monstrous thing, or even hold on to the pathetic semblance of a rusty handle on one of the doors, which literally crumbled under her fingers if she just squeezed it a little harder.

Jack pulled her away from the iron statue, clasping her hands behind her back. The bandage came off his head and blood flowed from his injured ear without encountering any obstacles. It soaked the collar of his jumpsuit and flowed down his chest and arm. It fell in large drops on Maddie's face, which turned away from him, not wanting to look. She struggled, but it was no use. It was as if she was being held not by a familiar husband, but by some kind of colossus with a steel grip.

― He's just a monster, Maddie. He's as guilty as a dog that attacked its master, ― the man's voice sounded close to his ear.

― No! It's not like that! ― It took Maddie a moment to notice that Jack wasn't holding her at all.

The hunter appeared right in front of her, holding a brightly burning torch in his hands. She was standing tied to a pole on a pile of rickety logs and brushwood that stank of gasoline. Her hands were tied behind her back with a rope, and her whole body ached as if she had been beaten for hours.

― And you're guilty of protecting these filthy creatures, ― roared Jack's deep bass, drowning out the roar of the faceless crowd. ― You gave birth to a monster. You decided that he could be equal to people. But the fire will cleanse you of this infection!

***

― No! ― Maddie woke up abruptly, her hand tangled in the crumpled duvet cover. She was breathing heavily, her back was wet with sweat, and her stomach still hurt, just like in her dream. Unpleasant, lingering pain.

It was just a nightmare. Because of everything that had happened over the past few days, because of her husband, who seemed to be madly convincing her of his innocence when she nevertheless decided to visit him in the hospital yesterday under the strict supervision of the police, who looked at her with quiet sympathy. Her brain, overloaded with information, was clearly starting to malfunction, making it clear with such night visions that she could not cope with the load. He doesn't have time to digest everything properly.

― I'm going to start sleepwalking like Danny soon,― Maddie muttered, pulling back the covers. A peculiar smell of iron abruptly hit my nose, and a maroon stain spread out on the white sheet. The obvious source of the abundance of blood and pain in her nightmare. ― That's the last thing I needed...

Maddie got up from the bed with a groan. The small digital clock on the bedside table read fifteen minutes past six. It's too early in the morning for a summer day when the kids will never wake up. Even she herself would prefer not to get up before the alarm clock, but what to do. After such terrible dreams, it would still be impossible to fall asleep a second time, especially on a dirty bed. Besides, she could use a little extra time to get herself in order. She had a lot of plans for today, and it was going to be a hell of a long and exhausting day.

***

For several days now, Danny had been waking up quite early in the morning, but he just continued to lie on the bed with his eyes closed in an attempt to stay half asleep and take a nap a little more, so as not to accumulate fatigue and not bring himself to the next night walks, which usually happened after a rather impressive lack of rest. He didn't usually dream at such moments, but this time, from time to time, the rustle of leaves and a deep growl could be heard from the darkness. This is probably the only thing that could be called similar to a dream, but it was a pity that he couldn't fully immerse myself in it, as he did then, in Vlad's mountain chalet. But he wouldn't mind, for the first time since he got his powers, talking to the beast from nightmares.

Mom woke up with a little cry. Obviously, he wasn't the only one sleeping badly in this house. There were soft footsteps and a rustle of cloth outside the door. Danny lay motionless, listening intently for the sounds that his heightened senses picked up. After some time, you could hear the muffled operation of the washing machine. And then the sound of falling water in the shower. Apparently, the woman decided to start the day early in the hope that this time she would definitely be able to be productive.

Phantom gritted his teeth, remembering the state his mother had been in when she returned home yesterday after trying to talk to Jack. She and Jess weren't allowed to see the man. It wasn't that Danny himself was eager to see him, but Jess was obviously unhappy with this turn of events even more than his unwillingness to share with her all the details of what happened many years ago in the basement of the house. And sister didn't want to talk about the events of the year before last either. She seemed overly impressionable and fussy to Danny lately, and these are not the best qualities for a keeper of secrets. At least for now. And he didn't feel like he was ready to open up to anyone else. Although after talking to my mother, it seemed to make breathing a little easier.

Charlotte's spiders in the terrarium quieted down after Jack stopped showing up at home. Maddie tried to ask him for details about the ghost, who, as it turned out, reached out with his spidery paws to her, but under the weight of daily problems, this conversation did not come anywhere in the end, interrupting at the beginning. Moreover, the ghost himself now completely refused to show his face. Even the spiders seemed to activate only when Danny wasn't in the room. Charlotte was obviously not a fool and knew perfectly well that nothing good would happen after their dialogue. In fact, she has achieved almost what she wanted, Jack is no longer in this house. He's not a hunter, he won't be able to call himself that anymore, at least, and most likely he won't be allowed to have any weapons for the rest of his life, unless of course he stays in prison for the rest of his days. However, after all that the teenager managed to scrape together, his father will most likely be in a madhouse. Both the police and the hospital staff described him as someone who had clearly lost touch with reality. Few people seemed to believe his words about ghosts and vampires, that he was a hunter of evil spirits, and so on. On the one hand, it was wonderful, the fewer people believed in all this imaginary danger, the longer his friends, acquaintances and himself would be calm. But on the other side...

The local media presented the tragedy very cautiously. Apparently, it's not for nothing that the TV presenter of Amity Park was called an android on the Internet. A blonde girl, without a single hint of emotion, gave out the text of the news about the attempted murder of a schoolgirl by a “hunter of evil spirits”, who recognized her as the evil spirits. For such stinginess in her presentation, she became popular in her hometown, but the rest of the country was obviously not satisfied with this. At some point, Danny almost completely stopped accessing the Internet on any popular sites. Personal messages and the news feed were filled with speculation about the tragedy of the circus “Gothic”. Surprisingly, the people who supported my father were still at least online, even if there were relatively few of them. The news about the suicide of the circus owner, who was detained by the local police, flashed especially often in his personal information field. Some saw justice in this, others regretted that the man had not been sent to prison after all, and were sure that he had gotten off too easily. And someone saw it as a conspiracy created for unknown, but very evil purposes. The Internet is truly an amazing place.

Danny got up from the pillows and sat up in bed, tiredly rubbing his sleepy eyes. Obviously, it would not be possible to plunge into sleep anymore, especially after the death of the circus owner once again surfaced in my head. He still remembered how he froze in a stupor on the threshold of his room, looking at the open thermos lying on the floor. He rushed out of the house in the guise of a Ghost to find a spirit who had gone off the rails after many years of slavery. Tucker had never given him any reassuring news about Schoenhowert up from the pillows and sat up in bed, tiredly rubbing his sleepy eyes. Obviously, it would not be possible to plunge into sleep anymore, especially after the death of the circus owner once again surfacedn my head. He still remembered how he froze in a stupor on the threshold of his room, looking at the open thermos lying on the floor. He rushed out of the house in the guise of a Ghost to find a spiri the circus?

Sam was the only one who calmed this panic, although she didn't really explain anything. She certainly tried, talked a lot about something similar to funeral rites or mourning for the dead in order to release their soul. But Danny didn't really understand anything, although he trusted her slightly trembling voice for some reason. The girl looked terribly broken at the time, with inflamed eyes and black traces of earth embedded in small, almost completely healed wounds on her fingers. She spoke incoherently and incoherently, promising that she would fill them in on the details as soon as she understood everything properly. Which wasn't exactly like her anymore. She was usually in a hurry to share any ritually gothic information with them, so what changed?

Danny reached for his smartphone on the bedside table. Vampires have already slowly begun to move away from their information isolation. We chatted for almost the whole night, and we've been trying to reach him for a couple of days now, but we weren't in the mood to respond at all. It wasn't that they were too insistent or annoying to him, not at all. There was just something suffocating about their care and consideration. Something that paid too much attention to him, which only made him want to hide the phone away more.

Although there was another kind of “attention” that still unnerved the teenager much more.

Getting out of bed, Danny stretched properly, not expecting to see a man looking through the window of his room, dressed too untidily and impersonally to determine his gender, age or gender, but the dictaphone in his hands spoke volumes. The stranger also looked surprised, frozen in the most ridiculous and unstable of all possible poses, apparently realizing that he had foolishly looked not into the window of the owners of the house or their office, but into the room of a teenager standing now in only shorts.

Still holding his phone, Danny took a quick picture. The camera's flash, which was not turned off, scared the stranger so much that he fell off the ledge onto something or someone below. There was scuffling and muttered curses from the street. The guy looked out the window, noticing an unfamiliar car driving away from their house, and also took a photo to zoom in to get a better look at the license plates.

― The state of Wisconsin? The guys have obviously come a long way to do something stupid for the sake of sensation. Were they hoping to find Vlad here or what? ― Danny snorted irritably, looking at the car disappearing around the corner of the street. Photos of the rooms should be shown to the mother, and at the same time to the cops. Although he sincerely didn't want to add to their work, they probably have a lot right now. The guy is sure that he could have handled it himself, but Masters made it clear to his protege that he should not engage in amateur activities and sit quietly. At least for now. It's understandable, there's no need to give visitors an extra reason to talk about the paranormal and find black-and-white blurred figures with green eyes in their photos. ― You acted stupidly. So I won't be ashamed to stop you from living or even working further if we meet again.

***

The morning was even worse than Maddie had imagined. Looking at the photo of a strange stranger in the window of her son's room, Jess realized without prompting that she should call the police and picked up the phone while Danny, yawning relaxedly, brewed himself coffee and lazily spread jam on bread. He seemed completely unmoved by what had happened, although in his place Maddie would probably have made a fuss a long time ago.

The offer to go to Alice and spend the rest of the holidays away from all this outrage, which is obviously going to get worse and worse, the children took a little discouragingly. Danny probably jokingly suggested that she wanted to get rid of them in order to “take all the media attention for herself,” but with his character, it was difficult to say for sure whether he was joking or was at least half serious. The last thing she really wanted was to make him think she needed him less after everything he'd told her. But the reality was different, there had only been more weasels from the news world in recent days. They tried to catch them on the street, in shops, on an evening walk. At first, they approached cautiously, but each time they became more and more brazen in search of information that could significantly increase their modest fee.

Giving them some time to pack their bags and say goodbye to their friends was the only request the children made. They clearly didn't want to spend the rest of the summer in the wilderness with little to no communication, but it wouldn't be a good decision to let them continue to stay in a place where news vultures would peek through their windows either. And Maddie herself felt like she was coming to the edge every time she looked into their eyes.

It was hard to let them go. To feel suffocating tears that cannot be cried out in front of them, too. You can't cry in front of children at all, being the last support in difficult times. If she makes it clear that she is broken herself, then there may be no hope left for them. And every day it became more and more difficult to control myself, sorting through documents and patents, working with the police and lawyers.

And then there's this cycle, which has decided to come early this time. For some reason, her own body decided that she probably wasn't sick enough. The summer had been stifling in itself, but now Maddie was beginning to feel like she was about to start melting. She was terribly hungry. Something more satisfying and bigger. And after all, even staying at home would not have worked, because she had already agreed to work with Masters, which meant no more indulgences and comfortable time in her home laboratory, which would also soon become much more empty.

“I haven't felt this way since university,” ― the woman thought, running into the elevator and fanning herself with a folder of documents. She didn't look around at all, concentrating too much on her thoughts and condition.

― Rough morning? ― The sudden voice of Mastres in the closed elevator made Maddie almost jump in surprise. The man appeared out of nowhere in his usual formal black suit and red tie, but this time without glasses. Sipping coffee from a paper cup, he was intently studying something on his smartphone.

― How long have you been here? ― Maddie exhaled, feeling her mouth go dry. For some reason, the smell of strong drink was completely invisible in the air.

― We went in together, ― Vlad hid the phone in the inner pocket of his jacket. ― Since you're asking such a question, you're clearly focused on something more important to yourself than the upcoming acquaintance with a new workplace. Problems at home?

― Almost, ― Maddie continued to fan her burning face with a folder. ― If earlier the journalists were annoying from afar, today they decided to look right through the window. And into Danny's bedroom, too. And he's acting as if nothing has happened.

― They accelerated for a long time. I thought they would start doing tactless nonsense much earlier, ― Vlad grinned slightly, hiding his smile behind a sip of coffee. For a brief moment, Maddie thought there was something strange about his white teeth, but she didn't really have time to figure out what it was. ― The vultures are losing their grip.

― I think tomorrow morning, or maybe tonight, I'll send the kids to my sister. Away from all this, ― the slight heat made his heart beat faster. Surely her current condition was most strongly influenced by stress, which could have turned gray in a couple of days. ― A couple more such visits and I'll start to break down.

Masters was looking at her with a strange expression on his face. Without his glasses, he seemed to become a completely different person. His eyes seemed narrower, but her gaze was sharper and more attentive, pinning her in place like a butterfly. She tried not to make eye contact with him once more, but she could still feel him on her skin.

― It's probably the right decision, ― he finally stated. Maddie even felt relieved, allowing herself to exhale. ― But you don't look well yourself. Maybe you should have stayed home today. Get some rest, help the children get ready, spend time with them.

― They're self―sufficient enough to handle the packing without my interference, ― Maddie chuckled a little nervously, straightening her hair. ― Besides, Danny wanted to visit his friend at this hospital today, and Jess was planning to collect all the books she needed for her studies. Next year at school will be her last. And I've already postponed this meeting for too long, because you wanted to talk to me not only for the sake of work, but also to introduce your lawyer, am I right?

― Mostly, Maddie, ― the man smiled. His thin lips seemed too bright, as if he was drinking bright red juice instead of coffee. ― Your zeal is commendable, but I still believe that chronically tired employees cannot be effective under constant stress. I don't think there's anything seditious about a vacation.

― For a billionaire like you, maybe not. But I can't afford to be unemployed. Especially when the trial and the lawyer's fees are breathing down your back. My savings are not as impressive as I would like, ― Maddie sighed as she watched the floor counter slowly creep up, finally stopping at the right one. The hallway was cool and quiet enough. In the farthest part was Masters' office, as far as she remembered, but during the last visit she had no particular desire to look around. ― I can't afford a vacation at the moment.

― It's not necessary to be so ruthless to yourself, ― the man kept a little distance from her, as during the first conversation in many years before the evening of the reunion. ― I could help...

― No, thanks, ― Maddie interrupted him sharply, not even giving him time to finish his sentence. ― I don't want to be in debt.

Somehow, Masters did not respond to this. He just measured her with attentive dark blue eyes, which sent a chill down her spine. There was something subtly disturbing about it for her personally, although she couldn't pinpoint the exact reason. It was a bit like the look in the back she sometimes felt during traditional camping trips with Danny. The look of a curious predator that cautiously looks at people. He sniffed and walked around the camp without being seen directly, but he could always be seen somewhere on the edge of peripheral vision as a light shadow. If you start to think about it, Vlad was a similar wolf to her: cautious, attentive, cunning and frighteningly smart. Surely cruelty was included in this list, otherwise how else would he have been able to climb so high? Kindness and understanding can only lead a life of humility and poverty, and Masters clearly had none of that.

Danny had obviously picked up something elusively bestial from him after too long a conversation. Not to say that it was too noticeable, after all, the teenager was always a wild loner, it's just that he seemed to start using personal existing traits in a similar way. There was something frightening about it that made a loved one seem far away. It was as if she knew even less about him than she thought.

“And now you're sending him to his sister to know even less for sure,” ― Maddie clutched the folder of documents to her chest tighter. The hardcover was already crunching under her fingers when a white cat with two dark spots on its forehead jumped out at her feet. With a short “mew” in the direction of the woman, the cat busily approached Masters, rubbing her side against his dark trousers and wrapping her long flexible tail around his ankle.

― What's a cat doing here? ― the woman asked herself, looking at the small, elegant animal.

― This is the employee of the recreation room, ― the man said, noticing her surprised look and pointing to the double―leafed glass door from behind which the cat jumped out.

Inside, there was a fairly large room with a small table, upholstered sofas, and a kitchenette delicately hidden behind a small green partition with climbing flowers that Maddie couldn't identify. Two more tortoiseshell and ginger cats were sprawled on the couch. Lazily making out, they licked each other's faces, not in a hurry to be distracted by a new person.

― An employee? ― Maddie asked, just in case, not sure if she understood Vlad correctly.

― That's right, ― the man picked up the white cat with a restrained smile and motioned for Maddie to follow him further. ― While we're waiting for the lawyer, I suggest a short tour. If you're determined to get down to business, then it's worth taking a look around the workplace first. What do you say?

***

Tucker's house was, as always, a little noisy and smelled of the goodies his mother, a committed housewife, loved to cook. Surely her baking would have been an incredible success if she had decided to open some kind of bakery or cafe, but she preferred to pamper only those closest to her. Danny was kind of jealous of Tucker every time he visited him, even if he never said it out loud. Even now, lounging on a cushioned armchair and sipping homemade mint lemonade, watching a friend fiddle with a new hard drive that glowed slightly in the dark due to the ectoplasm that had once got on it, the teenager could not help but compare what he saw with his own family. Everything had been difficult at home for a very long time, it was difficult to remember at least one conversation between parents without raising their voices.

While waiting for Sam, the Ghost listened to the soft rustle of the curtains of the open window, to the voices of people on the street and the barely audible radio on the ground floor. One could probably say that he was afraid of running into sneaky journalists or someone like them again, who runs a small blog and fancies himself a serious and impartial analyst. It was only on the way here that he came across one who chased him in a car, but persistently pretended that he was an innocent daisy, and the camera in the back seat was not his. To break the lens of this thing unnoticeably with the help of telekinesis was the very special pleasure that he would not mind repeating.

The goth girl hugged him tightly instead of greeting him right after she entered Tucker's room, who couldn't hold back his sarcastic joke, for which he got a pillow in his face.

― So we won't see each other until the end of the summer? ― Sam clarified after he briefly outlined the situation and showed a photo of the morning guest. ― Is that all because of that?

― Well, not only that,― Danny tucked his legs under him a little warily, sitting cross-legged and taking a quick glance at the open window. ― To be honest, it seems to me that Mom would like to be alone with her thoughts. She used to do that when she was fighting with father, but now, you know, she can't just leave town. I don't know how bad it is, but today I heard her wake up screaming, and yesterday, after meeting Jack, she was crying in the shower. She probably thinks it's unnoticeable, but when you're able to tell that a pigeon is rummaging in the trash within a hundred meters, you'll definitely hear something like that.

― Have you tried talking to her? ― Tucker adjusted his glasses with the back of his hand, sitting down on a chair so that its back was in front of his face in order to make it easier to fold his arms on it.

― I tried, but she doesn't want to talk about herself. Gets off the subject as soon as he can, ― Danny set his empty glass on the floor next to the armchair and leaned back on it completely, staring at the ceiling. ― I thought to enlist Vlad's support to either stay or drag her away together with us, but he sided with her. As a result, after I visit Catherine, I will need to go home and pack my things. We will be sent to Aunt Alice on an evening flight. You will have to learn Zen far from civilization and the Internet.

― Are you going to fly on a plane?! ― Sam blurted out, almost jumping in her seat.

― What's the big deal? ― The ghost shrugged his shoulder, sitting down again like a human. ― This is the fastest way to get where you need to go. You will need to make a couple of transfers by bus, and the journey will take more than a day. During this time, the journalists will have time not only to find Jess and me, but also to extract everything they want under torture.

The friends exchanged glances, but did not argue with him. They already had everything written on their faces that they thought about this idea of flying on an airplane, especially after the recent incident in the mountains of Colorado. Mom and Jess were also against it at first, but they gave up anyway. Frustratingly fast. Still, Danny secretly hoped that Maddie would find such a crazy option too dangerous and she would put the brakes on the idea of a summer vacation in a village that wasn't even on some maps, allowing them to stay at home. It's a pity it didn't work out as we would have liked. Well, it was Danny's own fault, which meant he would have to deal with this stupid attempt at manipulation. In the end, before Vlad's level, he still had to be manipulated and manipulated in order to at least begin to understand how it works. It's not a good aspiration, but it's still obviously effective in many situations. Better than a banal fight.

― I have a request for you during my absence,― Danny leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. Outside the window, there were still no extraneous voices or any noises other than passing cars.― Can you keep an eye on Charlotte's terrarium? The spiders need to be fed at least once a week, otherwise they will start looking for a way to escape or even worse, they will start dying. According to my observations, two new corpses come to the place of each corpse. The house will quickly turn into an arachnophobe's nightmare if the terrarium is started, and I would not like to add this problem to my mother.

― It'll be done in the best possible way, Chief, ― Foley said with a playful salute.

At that moment, the new hard drive, which had just been connected to the computer, made a lot of noise, as if it were a motor from an electric razor. The teenagers immediately turned around at the sound, and Tucker hurried to disconnect the part from the system unit, muttering to himself something about dust.

***

For the first time in days, Jack managed to get to the phone to call someone other than a lawyer. After talking to his wife, there was a terrible aftertaste, even she did not seem to believe in his version or for some reason did not show this belief in front of the police. Was she still so angry about the past that she decided not just to leave him and get a divorce, but to do something even more terrible?

― No, that's stupid, ― Jack told himself, listening to the phone ring. ― It's just a misunderstanding. Another stupid misunderstanding that simply does not allow people without sufficient knowledge of the otherworldly to understand me properly. To assess the scale of the danger that I managed to avert. The importance of the incident for science.

The man began to chew his thumbnail unconsciously while waiting for an answer. All his thoughts were focused only on how to explain his own rightness to others. He felt the same way he did last Halloween, when, according to Maddie, an evil ghost was in his body and mind. Which couldn't be true, of course. He is a hunter of evil spirits, he avoids otherworldly things as he should, so as not to be caught and split into atoms. During Halloween last year, the house was simply overrun with small spirits, which Maddie did not see due to her own skepticism. For Jack, that was the truth. Only this time, not only his wife doesn't believe him, but everyone around him for some reason. Reporters are not allowed to see him, and they do not allow him to give statements to the press himself, referring to doctors who are sure that they are holding another psycho, and refuse to answer the question of how his ear was damaged if it was not something otherworldly. His injury at the moment was the most convincing proof that everything that happened at the circus “Gothic” was true.

The phone was finally answered. The dubious “hello” uttered by his family and friends in a still slightly broken voice caused Jack to sigh with relief. Danny answered the phone. His son certainly should have understood him, despite all his softness and fear of the paranormal. He knew what he was afraid of, and therefore he must understand that his father had no other choice in the case of these monsters.

― Hello son! ― Jack tried not to shout too much, holding the phone to his good ear.

― Dad...? ― the voice on the phone sounded quieter. With a slight, frightened shudder. His boy must have been so scared of what had happened. Surely Maddie or the cops had already told him nonsense, which he believed being too naive and good-natured in life.

― Of course it's me, Danny, ― Jack felt a lump rise in his throat and the tip of his nose tingle. The tears came of their own accord, even though he didn't want to. All the speeches and explanations flew out of my head as soon as I heard my native voice. ― You can't imagine how glad I am to hear from you!

― I can't say the same, ― the voice sounded strangely cold, which made the man tense up. ― Why are you calling?

Fenton felt something in his chest snap and fall so abruptly that he felt dizzy. He froze with the phone in his hands, trying to process what he had just heard, and feeling cold goosebumps running down his spine. What did they tell the boy that he was reacting like that?

— Me... I wanted to talk. To explain what happened, ― all the thoughts, all the previously prepared text of explanations flew out of his head. But he couldn't formulate a new one right off the bat. With just one phrase, his son seemed to have knocked out of him the ability to put words into adequate sentences and the last remnants of hope for understanding.

― Mom's not at home. And even if she had, she probably wouldn't have wanted to listen ― Danny continued to be so violent that he seemed obsessed with something or someone. He seemed like a different person than his boy, who was always gentle and accommodating. ― After she talked to you yesterday, she locked herself in the bathroom to cry. You still don't understand what you've done, do you?

He understood, but obviously not like the others. They were waiting for a different confession from him, waiting for him to call the otherworldly monster a man, to agree with the version that he had made a mistake in choosing a target. But he's a hunter with a flair for evil spirits that has never failed him before. Which led him not only to his first discoveries, but also to the idea of creating a portal so that these creatures and their habitat would be much more convenient to explore. He couldn't be wrong about something like that.

― Son, listen to me. It's all one big misunderstanding...

― As with the Iron Maiden? ― Danny interrupted him rudely.

Everything started to fall into place. Maddie has probably already reminded her son of the past misunderstanding that made her so angry with him the day before the incident. Surely the boy's brain distorted the childhood memory quite easily and quickly and adjusted it to this stupid idea of his wife's torture, which she had somehow got into her head. He was too young at the time to understand the importance of the experiment, and now he's too old to remember what it really was like.

― You know, if you'd continued testing new equipment on me, I wouldn't have said a word. Just like with that stupid deflector, which left me with a scar on my lower back. As always, ― his son's voice acquired a slight echo from something on the phone. ― But I guess I'm not enough for you anymore.

Is that how he saw it? Was that how he felt about their experiences together, or was it just a matter of Maddie's sharp tongue? Was that what he thought, or was that how he perceived everything that happened after communicating with others? Jack was so focused on finding answers to all these questions that he even began to breathe less often. His mind was racing, unable to process everything at once. The situation seemed to him like a nightmare made real by something.

― Listen, Danny, I can prove that this is all a misunderstanding and it wasn't a human being...

The phone rang briefly. The teenager dropped the call without even trying to listen to it. He clearly made it clear that he would not help, take his side, or even listen to him anymore. For the first time in his life, Jack felt truly alone and abandoned. Without the support of friends and family, he seemed to have lost his lifeline, being thrown overboard somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. The environment had wanted to devour him before, refusing to accept ideas as something worthy of attention. As something that was definitely a part of their reality, which they preferred not to notice because of the fear of the new. Due to the fact that the otherworldly was stronger than man, according to superstition, although the hunter himself was sure that no pitiful evil spirits could surpass humans.

― It looks like the call is over, ― his escort remarked in a surprisingly neutral tone. ― If there is no one else to call, then you need to come back.

― Just a few more minutes, ― the man asked. Since everything is going so well with the family, then it was worth trying to look for support at least from the parents.

***

Vlad seemed monstrously condescending to her. Too soft. Suspiciously compliant. Ridiculously helpful and polite. He even offered to take the kids to the airport in the evening, knowing full well that Danny probably wouldn't refuse his company. There was something about it that seemed wrong and strange to Maddie, as if he expected something from her in return after such mental generosity. After the unspoken conditions, she would not have been surprised at such a move on his part, but there was also something that did not allow her to so easily write off everything on the cold calculation of a man. After all, until today, he has not always behaved like an exceptionally cold-blooded businessman who sees only personal gain in others. Maybe Vlad really felt sorry for her to some extent, after everything that had befallen their family literally in one day, but that only made Maddie feel worse.

She usually relied on herself in all difficult situations. It didn't matter if it was about work or running a household, Maddie was used to the fact that most of the decisions she made would be hers. Jack was a good idea generator when it came to projects, but she was mostly responsible for bringing them to life, bringing them to mind, and presenting them to the general public. She also conducted negotiations with Masters about the portal and related devices already patented by his companies, even when, after many years of silence and simply disgusting parting with him as a former friend, she found this face-to-face communication unpleasant. Even if it was purely business.

― Madeleine? ― The voice of Isabella Weston, with whom she was left alone, pulled her out of the viscous swamp of bitter reflections.

― I'm sorry, I lost my concentration, ― she ruffled her hair with a sigh. Concentrating on something so painful was too much of a challenge right now, even if it was necessary. When the conversation turned to the reasons for her desire to divorce, about the evidence, her brain seemed to malfunction. ― We were talking about Jack's developments and my thoughts went somewhere completely to the side.

― I can understand you, in a purely human way, ― Isabella smiled gently. There was the same annoying sympathy in her green eyes. ― But please focus. There's not much left and you can take a break from it all.

― Yes, I understand, ― she nodded, feeling a spasmodic pain in her lower abdomen. ― But there is no time to rest at all.

― Is Mr. Masters such a ruthless employer that he has already overwhelmed you with cases? ― The woman straightened a lock of copper―red hair and got up from her chair, heading for the coffee machine. ― Would you like some coffee? ― she asked, taking a second cup.

― Yes, thank you, ― Maddie nodded eagerly. She didn't want coffee so much as something sweet and preferably more. ― On the contrary, Masters suggested taking a break, but I just can't imagine sitting at home alone and stewing in all this. I would love to get away from everything, go somewhere far away from civilization with my children, but everything will only get worse from my escape.

― Has the car that your son saw this morning been found yet? ― The aroma of strong, bitter coffee filled the air, which began to trickle into the cup.

― No, ― Maddie sighed, leaning back in her chair, trying to find a more comfortable position for herself. ― Perhaps, after their puncture, these vultures from the world of journalism fled the city faster than they were searched for. But I'm still afraid to leave my children in the city, because this is clearly just the beginning.

After yesterday's conversation with Jack, they tried to intercept her at the entrance to the hospital, and even at the store on her way home. All of them were newcomers, judging by their behavior or dialect, which most of them gave away with their heads. For the first time in a long time, Maddie was glad that local news publishers were different from everyone else in the country in their coldness and almost mechanical presentation, which became the subject of many jokes even at the moment when they had just moved to this quiet coastal town when they were young and had just begun to comprehend the wisdom of parenthood after Jess appeared.

― After we get through the paperwork and those photos you mentioned, I'll try to bother you less, ― Miss Weston promised, handing her a cup of coffee and a sugar bowl. ― It probably won't be possible to not involve you at all before the process begins, but at least I'll try to minimize this stress on my part.

The woman put down the second cup for herself and began to look for something in her purse. Maddie wasn't afraid to overdo it with sugar. If there was no company nearby, I would just pour a couple of spoonfuls into my mouth before taking one sip. Surely no doctor would approve of such a thing, but right now, at this particular moment in time, she didn't care. A pleasant sticky sweetness settled on the tongue, slowly flowing down the throat along with the hot coffee. The drink was too strong for her taste, but that was the last thing she could complain about at the moment.

Isabella handed her a small bottle of painkillers, fished out of a small purse that she carried with her besides a briefcase for documents. And to the questioning look, she replied with a restrained smile:

― You're restless all the time. During times of stress, many people experience periodic pain that becomes unbearable.

The usual display of attention and even, one might say, care from something made Maddie feel too uncomfortable. So much so that instead of saying “thank you” She just nodded curtly. Drinking the medicine with something other than water was quite wrong and obviously not according to the instructions, but she frankly did not want to get up for this. As she handed the bottle back, Maddie noticed out of the corner of her eye that there was a real first-aid kit in the lawyer's purse. Surely, during the discussion of difficult cases, her clients often needed something to stay in their senses or wait for the doctors to arrive. Not that it was necessary during a meeting scheduled in a laboratory literally next door to the hospital, but apparently the habit of being “fully armed” turned out to be stronger.

― In addition to custody of the children, which is obvious, and the house that is fully designed for you, is there anything that was valuable to you in your marriage and would you like to keep to yourself? ― Isabella returned to her seat with a glass of hot drink, which she didn't even bother to add sugar to.

Maddie took a quick glance at the stack of documents that Vlad had provided her with to familiarize herself with her future work and which he had urged her not to take outside the center. An unsettling thought popped into her head about all the past developments she and her husband had worked on. She had a lot of things at home that she needed for work, but now she had little idea what she would have left after that. Will the equipment that Masters has be enough? Wouldn't she have to reinvent many necessary things because of all this legal obscurantism if she lost the rights to them? How long will this pain haunt her, randomly appearing at work as a flashback? Wouldn't it have been easier to change jobs altogether and escape from all this in anticipation of miraculous healing?

She didn't know the answer to many questions. She couldn't even formulate now what she wanted from a future without a man with whom I lived even happily most of the time.

― There are some developments that I can use here, ― Maddie replied, absently stirring the still―partially melted sugar in a cup of coffee. ― I need to get acquainted with the Masters materials to be more precise.

***

Being next to Maddie caused contradictory feelings, especially when they were forced to sit closer to each other in the comfort of the car on the way to the airport. Perhaps the only thing he was sure of was that this feeling could not be called hunger. Which would probably be nice if this degree of uncertainty was a little less unnerving.

Blood rushed to her face from time to time, coloring her cheeks with a light, barely noticeable blush. Even the air conditioner turned on did not help the woman escape from the heat of the summer evening, she kept fanning herself with an open palm or a magazine, the name of which no one had paid attention to for a long time. From these actions, the scent of her blood spread through the salon more actively, but it was probably noticeable only to him. Full of bitterness and settling in my throat like a spicy seasoning, which made me want to cough and drink cold water. Although it definitely wouldn't help. Danny beat him to it, increasing the power of the air conditioner, which displeased the only passenger who was currently freezing.

― We're going to start getting ice here soon, ― Jess protested, hugging herself with trembling fingers. ― How are you going to survive at Aunt Alice's without air conditioning? Will you move into the refrigerator?

― Yes, if necessary, ― Danny replied, absently stroking the white cat curled up on his lap. ― Besides, you're the only one who's cold. And if that's the case, it's better to let one person freeze than four people boil.

The boy was definitely still unhappy with the cat's company imposed on him, but he tried not to show it. “I don't need a babysitter!”: He hissed softly as Vlad handed him the carrier. He probably expected other kinds of help from him, for example, in getting rid of this trip in principle. He clearly didn't want to leave his hometown, just as he didn't want to leave his mother in the company of problems, but he's still a teenager, after all. Being in the midst of complex and boring proceedings, being under the constant gun of journalists who obviously would not leave him or his sister alone for a very long time, was not worth it. Maybe he understands this himself, since he does not actively resist, or maybe the reason is different. The teenager's mind was a dark forest that he couldn't even try to enter.

Taking a quick look at Maddie, Masters tried to at least roughly imagine what was going on in her head right now. Chaos or something more or less definite? She didn't have much time to gather herself and fully comprehend everything that had happened over the past few days. A son with superpowers who had the “honor” of becoming a test subject in childhood, journalists hungry for sensations so much that they are ready to encroach on their privacy, an idiot husband who is unable to even try to come up with a more or less adequate alibi and continues to broadcast about ghosts. Not that there was anything surprising about it specifically for him. There was a lot that could be done for personal gain from the latter, but Maddie... She literally lived in another world until recently. Simpler and more understandable.

― Are you sure I should take her with me? ― Danny sounded quiet and somewhat lost, referring to the four―legged passenger.

― She's used to life outside the big city and more freedom than I can give her here. Even the penthouse will not be spacious enough for someone who is used to the forests of Colorado or Wisconsin. ― Vlad tried to smooth out the corners and attract the attention of an extremely kind―hearted boy to the needs of a cat rather than convince him that Fernal's help and company could be useful to him at least during a direct flight. He doesn't exactly admit this in words, although his rapid heartbeat completely betrayed his fear and nervousness about the upcoming flight and a couple of hours on the plane.

― I hope it won't take long. I've already lost the habit of living with Aunt Alice, ― Jess looked out the window at the flashing landscape of her hometown, still hugging herself.

― You used to say almost the same thing every time we went to see her when we were kids, ― Danny grinned. ― And then you cried the most about how you didn't want to leave.

― As soon as things get a little quieter, you'll be right back, I promise, ― Maddie nervously rubbed her neck under her short hair, the thinnest of which stuck to her skin. She kept unconsciously twirling a simple wedding ring on her ring finger, and each time she abruptly jerked her hands away, noticing her own gesture.

Masters forced himself to look away from the throbbing wreath that stretched from her collarbone and disappeared under her cheekbone. He spent too much time actually learning how to behave like a human again. He controlled every action and look, even the most insignificant, so as not to be too strange in the eyes of others. And now he was well aware that he couldn't afford to stare at a woman for too long for a variety of reasons.

― I'm sure you'll have a good time, ― Vlad smiled slightly to suppress the urge to lick his long fangs. ― Journalists can be annoying, but only the most beaten-up people come to a tiny village in the wilderness of Arkansas, and there aren't many of them right now. There are more chances to meet a unicorn, so it will certainly be more comfortable there.

― What about you, Mom? ― Jess's huge blue eyes looked at Maddie with childish affection.

― I'll be fine ― the woman said, looking too tired, and that made her sound as improbable as possible. ― Maybe things will be sorted out faster than planned and I will even be able to come to you myself.

It was the most desperate lie Maddie could tell, looking the children straight in the eye. But only Jasmine seemed to take her on faith, judging by Daniel's heavy sigh, who was busy putting the cat back in the carrier. There would be too many things to do, according to Mrs. Weston's predictions, which were generally accurate enough. The ceiling of rest from business for Maddie is a couple of days off, which she will most likely spend in the laboratory just to think less about everything else and not go outside. And it's good if she really works for herself while locked up, rather than sinking into chthonic gloomy thoughts while lying in bed.

― But still, just in case... ― Maddie didn't even finish her thought, as Danny interrupted her, closing the door of a soft fabric pet bag with a zipper.

― Do not communicate with strangers. Don't give any comments. Don't get into trouble, ― the teenager gave the adults a long, dark look. ― We know.

***

“...The car of the suspects in the attempt to enter the private territory was not seen within the city limits, according to police reports. Presumably, the violators managed to escape,” ― the radio presenter's voice was suspiciously familiar. It seems that the local TV news anchor has exactly the same thing, but it was definitely nonsense. Anity Park is a small town, of course, but not so small that all the news broadcasts are hosted by the same person.

“It's a pity that our colleagues from other states show such disrespect for privacy, but we will still hope for their prudence in the future...” ― the last phrase made the woman irritably turn off the radio in the car and return to the objects of her surveillance.

Maddie Fenton and Vlad Masters. It was strange to see this couple together even in the framework of business communication, and now, getting out of the same car and even in the company of children... But at the homecoming party, this woman pretended to be a proper and faithful wife, practically not taking a step away from Jack.

After taking a couple of quick photos and immediately checking them, Harry clicked her tongue in displeasure, wincing in disgust. No matter how hard she tried, over the past couple of days she hadn't been able to take a single normal picture of this “blissful” family of oddballs, caught in the midst of events that were too vivid for such a sleepy town as Mira Park. No matter how she caught the moment, no matter how she chose the angle, the Fenton boy always came out a little blurred, as if he was cursed not to have even one normal picture. The ceiling of what she managed to find were shared photos of Casper High School students, and even then it was not possible to recognize him there. For some reason, his eyes were more illuminated than everyone else's, turning into two burning dots in the picture. And now Masters was added to it, whose figure seemed to be the epicenter of the broken pixels in the picture.

Annoyed, Harriet put the camera aside and picked up her smartphone. There has long been an unspoken competition among photographer-journalists to see who will take the most decent picture of the Wisconsin rich man. However, so far, good photos have only been brought by those who were obviously given permission to take the picture, while everyone else had to be content with what came out. Namely, photos at the level of “evidence” of the existence of UFOs or bigfoot, which looked like photos from cheap old soap dishes. Now, among the elusive people for photographers, there is clearly this nondescript boy, whom only someone who did not have a sense of beauty would willingly want to arrange a photo hunt. Masters could at least be called subjectively handsome: a slender and statuesque man with sharp cheekbones, who always looked sharp in his perfectly fitting expensive suits. And this one... a real gray moth, in tattered jeans and T-shirts six sizes too big. And then there's that downtrodden look in his eyes. It's not surprising that, according to the information she has, the kid doesn't even have any real friends. Not only does he come out blurry in the photos, one could stumble over him in reality without noticing.

― It's some kind of curse, ― Harry hissed, looking at another unfortunate picture already on her phone. She stared intently at the figures of the remaining Fenton family, who were busy taking a rather impressive suitcase and a hiking backpack from the trunk of the car, which the boy threw onto his shoulders with some incredible ease. ― Maybe you're at least not as dodgy as you seem, ― the journalist muttered to herself, trying to roughly estimate the weight that the teenager had taken almost playfully.

Mindy, who foolishly messed up the windows this morning and forced the team to split up in a hurry, said that the boy was not as rickety as he seemed, which until recently was hard to believe. It was worth finding out where Maddie would send her back-biting dogs to send the guilty assistant and cameraman after her, and finally try to get closer to the couple from the scientist and her new “employer".

― It's going to be an interesting story if everything is really the way I think it is, ― Harry chuckled to herself. According to sources, it was at this moment, when several articles were hung on her husband, that she decided to break the bonds of a marriage that had lasted for almost twenty years. I wonder why? Of course, one could shrug and say that this is just a coincidence, but readers don't really like this. And Harry herself didn't believe in such coincidences. They happen too rarely.

She dialed the number of the "Plasmius Geneticist" hospital in the Peace Park. After the puncture of the careless assistant, it was worthwhile to act as legally as possible and disguise yourself as something more “charitable.” This town was conservative in many ways, including even the attitude of reporters to their own work. Tiffany Snow, the local presenter of the central channel, seemed to Harry like some kind of neural network, as did the person who wrote the text for her. It seems that even in Europe, TV presenters are not as prim as this doll without facial expressions. But since the locals like this kind of presentation, it must be assumed that excessive initiative and emotionality are frowned upon here. The heat should have been turned down if she really wanted to get to the bottom of something interesting.

― Mercy Hospital, how can I help you? ― a rather pleasant male voice sounded on the other end of the line, slightly hissing due to some kind of congenital speech defect, apparently.

― Good afternoon! Harriet Chin, a reporter for Milwaukee Magazine, is bothering you, ― she smiled, trying to make her voice as friendly as possible and kept her eyes on the Fenton family, who were already queuing for security at the entrance to the terminal building. ― I am covering the case of the release of hostages from the circus “Gothic” and learned that the victims are with you. I would like to offer assistance in spreading information about them, as far as I know, not all of their identities have been identified at the moment, and publicity in the media could help find their relatives faster. Will it be possible?

Harry's honesty was crumpled up and thrown out the window in his first year of journalism, and the desire to achieve some high and noble goals was shattered by a reality in which no readers and, consequently, consumers were interested in such a thing. Lying eye to eye was part of her job, and the search for sensations has long replaced the search for truth.

― I'll clarify this question and contact you later if the answer is yes, ― he said after a short, tired sigh, which made Harriet tense up. Such irritability could mean exactly two things. The first is the most optimistic, the workload after the incident in the hospital is so great that even the operator had time to rub calluses on his ears. Secondly, one of her competitors has already tried to get into Plasmius Geneticus under a similar pretext. Harriet considered herself a fairly good professional in her field, but the latter would definitely make her job much more difficult. Which, of course, I didn't want to. ― Will it be possible to contact you at the number you are currently calling from?

― Yes, of course, at any time. I will be very happy to help.

***

Being on a plane again was scarier than Danny had initially thought. He spent the entire flight listening to the hum of engines outside the window, watching the behavior of passengers and flight attendants, and trying to use his gut just in case. Before the start of takeoff, it seemed to him that he could handle it quite well, after all, it had been worse, but alas, reality had other plans. Even though the Ghost's gut was silent, clearly making it clear that there was nothing to be afraid of, the scar from the ghost deflector on his lower back, which seemed to have already lost its former sensitivity, began to burn incredibly. His skin remained cool to the touch as soon as he touched it with his fingers, but the feeling of heat returned every time he began to lose himself in the memories of his last flight.

Vlad's cat drew attention to itself whenever there was a fever. She began to rub her muzzle against her hands or chin, standing up on her hind legs. Cat purred, it seemed louder than the engine, which was noticed by other passengers, who were unhappy that the animal had not been checked into their luggage and ignored all the assurances of the flight attendants that the animal's presence was completely legal.

When the plane shook slightly during a small turbulence, the first thing the cat did was bite his finger. Only then did Danny notice how he almost froze the arm of his chair. Vlad probably knew exactly what he was doing, forcing such a company on him. Maybe he was afraid that without this four-legged babysitter, the cause of a new plane crash would be a nervous Ghost with an acquired fear of flying, extending exclusively to airplanes and large equipment, and not the ability to levitate. The teenager's sharpened hearing distinguished the quiet whispers of staff trying to calm those unhappy with the presence of an animal, about the “necessity” of the presence of a companion animal, which at some point forced him to take out headphones so as not to engage in self-eating also from a sense of shame. “I didn't feel enough pity from my classmates,” ― Danny thought irritably, but the cat didn't let the thought settle in his head for a long time, pulling off one of the headphones, pulling on the wire and playing with it lying on the teenager's lap.

Jess just chuckled softly, from time to time looking up from the book at their little fuss and making some notes in the margins. It wasn't until near the end of the flight that Danny noticed that the volume was dedicated to companion animals and how to use them. The thought that he had unwillingly become an object of observation for his sister was even more unnerving than usual, although this was not the first time this had happened. But still, at least to himself, Danny had to admit that if the whole flight hadn't been distracted by the cat, it probably would have been more difficult to get to the destination in many ways.

After landing, it even began to seem to Danny that the whole flight had never happened at all. That everything that made him so nervous had more to do with the confined space than with the flight itself. Being in an iron cage at altitude as a simple passenger with no control over anything at all was probably scarier than anything else. But it turned out to speculate about this only after the landing gear of the aircraft touched the ground, unfortunately. And until that moment, a terribly playful and curious cat took over all the attention.

They were greeted by Aunt Alice, for once dressed in a smart dress, not a pair of denim overalls. Although she looked so unusual in it that the teenagers barely recognized her.

― It's like you're going to church or a holiday, ― Jess was the first to rush to hug her aunt after receiving her luggage, literally dropping her suitcase. She probably would have forgotten about the luggage altogether if Danny hadn't been there.

― It's also a kind of holiday to meet your beloved godchildren, ― Alice quickly released the girl from her arms, taking the suitcase from the already loaded Danny. ― It's been a while since you've come to see me like this, almost for the whole summer. It's a pity the reasons are not very good.

― Don't tell me, ― Danny rolled his eyes. ― We've got a little extra guest here, I hope you don't mind. ― he asked, pointing to the cat in the carrier, which curiously pressed its muzzle against the screen door to get a better look at the new place.

― I've got mice in my barn, ― Alice replied, patting her nephew's unruly short hair. ― If this is not one of the pampered urban pets, then it may help to get rid of them.

― Maybe it will help, ― the teenager smiled awkwardly. A rich man's cat and a mouse... Danny sincerely doubted that this snow-white creature with touching blue eyes would get involved in such a plebeian business as catching rodents, but he did not disappoint his conservative aunt about pets in advance.

― Have you already chosen a new backpack for your next hike with your mother? ― Aunt loaded Jess's suitcase into the back of the pickup and helped her nephew take the burden off his shoulders while her sister held the cat.

— Yeah. It's more comfortable than a bag or suitcase, ― Danny stretched out, crunching his spine with pleasure, which made his sister grimace, handing him the animal and climbing into the back seat. It was already the middle of the night outside, and the road ahead was not close. Usually, when traveling with his mother, they stayed at a motel for the night and only went on a trip the next morning. The teenager yawned sweetly, settling into the front seat and buckling his seat belt.

― We'll arrive late, so call Maddie in the morning, ― Alice started the engine. ― Since I have only two guests this time, I have prepared a separate room for each of you on the second floor. Both face west, so the sun won't bother you in the morning. One is closer to the attic stairs and the bathroom, and the second is to the first floor and the kitchen, you can decide who gets which one while we're driving, ― these words made the sleepy teenagers cheer up for a while, but by the middle of the way both started yawning again. Upon arrival, Alice even had to wake up Jess, who had fallen asleep with a book in her arms, while a more cheerful Danny took his backpack and went to occupy a better room.

***

The house became incredibly empty without the children. It's too quiet and unsettling. However, after they knocked on the door in the evening, immediately after returning home, asking her to answer a couple of questions, Maddie decided that she had done the right thing. After a couple of hours, the situation began to get out of control so much that police officers were on duty at her house for the rest of the night, catching the completely beaten-off sensation seekers, who began to remind the woman of something between cockroaches and mosquitoes.

“A couple of questions about your husband.”

“Will you participate in the trial as a witness?”

“Do you consider yourself guilty?”

“Do you support your husband in this difficult situation?”

The tactless questions had been giving me a headache all morning. She would like to turn off the phone, but then the children won't be able to reach her. Alice promised to meet them in the evening, but by the time they reach a small village, it will be deep into the night. They'll probably be sleepy and tired, especially Danny after the obviously nervous flight. There was still hope that Vlad, with his imposed company on the child, had not lost, and the children would have enough responsibility to take care of the animal.

The laboratory has never had windows leading to the street. At the moment, it was the safest place in the house, where she would definitely not be able to reach. And where she can properly cry over the patents issued to her husband, over the years of collaboration that now, according to the documents, does not even belong to her, and over this terrible report with a photo of a bloody child's back. She even found that very T-shirt in one of the drawers, which only made her feel worse. There was absolutely no strength left to be angry or offended. Surely any expert would have called it a stage of depression, but it felt much worse mentally and physically.

The portal has been shut down and de-energized since that day. The hermetic coils blocked the tunnel, in which she found the remains of a charred black glove stuck to the switch on the wall. An all-too-familiar detail of his son's old protective suit. Surprisingly, the gloves were paired now, but both were white. She somehow packed everything she needed in a briefcase to hand over to the lawyer during the day. She wiped the remaining tears from her eyelashes with the back of her hand and finally got up from the table. Her head felt terribly heavy, face swollen, and the rest of my body ached. Starting a new day was even harder than yesterday, but staying in bed would be a damn bad decision.

When she began to eat a simple sandwich without enthusiasm, washing it down with plain water, the home phone in the living room rang. She lazily picked up the phone, squeezing out a relatively cheerful “Hello" in a slightly hoarse voice.

― Good morning, Mom, ― her son's voice involuntarily made her smile. ― I hope I didn't wake you up. We got there really late yesterday.

― I'm really glad to hear from you, darling, ― Maddie almost laughed when she heard Jess demanding to give her the phone in the background. ― I hope you didn't get into a fight with your sister while you were settling down?

― Jess overslept the battle for the best room, so there was no showdown, ― Danny paused for a while and, shushing his sister, asked in a much more serious tone. ― Are you okay? You sound kind of hoarse.

― I just woke up recently. Don't pay attention, ― she tried to clear her throat a little to get her vocal cords in order. Maddie's actress has always been lousy. If even such a simple lie was difficult for her, then in court and in front of reporters she should have kept her mouth shut just in case.

― Maybe you should have come with us after all. ― Jess's worried voice came closer to the receiver.

― I'd love to, honey, but you know I can't do that right now, ― the kids were really worried about her. Like Alice, obviously. But what can you do, you can't fix the situation any other way. All that remained was to get together and sort out the cases in the hope that there would be enough strength for at least most of them.

― We're just worried about you, ― Danny said again. ― You'll dive into your work again and then you'll suffer for it yourself.

― I promise not to overwork if you call me at least occasionally in the evenings and remind me that it's time to go to bed, ― a chuckle escaped from his chest by itself. Something light appeared in his head, which was still heavy after shedding tears.

― We promise ― they answered in unison. It was incredibly pleasant to hear their voices after the oppressive silence. There was something in their sound that soothed her troubled soul.

― Pass the phone to Alice, please. I need to talk to her, ― Maddie pleased, feeling a lump of tears form in her throat. She always considered crying in front of children to be something unacceptable, especially at times like this. But Sister is a little different.

***

Maddie looked even paler and more lost than yesterday. The once-blooming woman was literally fading away before her eyes under the weight of problems that she was still trying to carry alone. The blush on her white face seemed painful, and the dark circles under her reddened eyes clearly made it clear that she hadn't rested even at night. The empty house and the pesky vultures circling around her clearly didn't help her feel better. But it was necessary to inform about the desire of a couple of large sharks of a pen and a dictaphone to visit the “victims”, to which the woman reacted with a tired sigh pushing papers away from herself. Her thoughts were clearly far away.

― You won't have to come into contact with these splinters, ― Vlad said, hoping that he wouldn't have to do it intentionally. Handing her a cup of pomegranate juice, he waited until his slightly trembling fingers took it tighter. ― At least for my part, I will do everything to prevent this from happening. But one of the “adventurers” This is Harriet Chin. I'm warning you about this because she might try to talk to you like an old university friend. In my experience, she's quite annoying, so probably not crossing paths with her at all is the best option. Maybe even going to the countryside for a day would be a good option.

― How long are you going to try to send me on a forced vacation? ― Maddie was definitely getting annoyed. She was basically a powder keg right now, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. One good thing, at least the children won't stand in the way of this explosion. To some extent, Vlad would like to use Jack as a human shield at the moment of the “detonation”, which will definitely happen sooner or later. But that would be too utopian. ― When will she be here? ― Maddie's teeth hit the edge of the glass a couple of times as she took a sip. She was shaking, either from lack of sleep, or from chills, or from everything at once.

― She's been in town for a couple of days, apparently she's been taking a closer look at the situation. And the meeting is scheduled for tomorrow, at two o'clock. All the objects of her insincere interest are located in the hospital building, so in theory there would be nothing for her to do here.

― In theory. Back at university, she could go anywhere without soap. I don't think anything has changed over the years, ― as she spoke, Maddie stared at the surface of the acidic, iron-rich juice, stirring it lightly in a glass. The thoughtful eyes seemed even more purple than usual today, only much fainter and devoid of any spark. ― However, in this she differs little from all the others. I feel like a cow's corpse in the middle of the desert, with scavengers flying over it.

It would be superfluous to respond to such a pessimistic comparison. This is probably how ordinary people who are not familiar with how the press works feel, especially if it caught them at the most inappropriate moment.

― But while I have time, I'd like to discuss something with you, ― she set aside her drink and picked up a rather impressive stack of folders. There were cases of patients with ghostly illness, apparently one of whom attracted a little more attention because of its very shabby appearance and fell into her hands with his permission. Looking at Maddie now, Vlad was ready to admit that the decision was probably hasty after all. ― You weren't even going to talk about it directly?

Vlad ran his fingers somewhat lazily over the worn spine of the paper folder that Maddie was holding out to him, but he still didn't pick it up. He already knew everything that was written there perfectly well. He managed to learn every last comma in all these long twenty years, after stole it from the archives of the hospital where was quarantined. Sparse descriptions of greenish inflammations, fever, chills, weakness, and a couple more symptoms characteristic of blood poisoning. Nothing out of the ordinary. He wasn't going to give Maddie such difficult-to-understand information about supernatural powers. At least for now.

― I thought it would be better this way, ― he adjusted the cuffs of his white shirt rather mechanically, indulging his own habit of hiding his hands with traces of ulcers. Sparingly, to the point and without unnecessary details, which usually make a face-to-face conversation too personal.

It was true. If he had decided to talk about everything personally, it would have been impossible to avoid the reasons that preceded his hospitalization, and in this case, as the man hoped, this topic could be minimized. The chances of this happening are slim, but it was worth a try. After all, he had promised her all the honesty he had. He have secured this promise with a contract, and it will be difficult, if not impossible, to go against it completely. After all, he's not some kind of person to disregard that word.

The gold wedding ring still glimmered dimly in the light of the electric lamp as Maddie tiredly massaged her temples. The blood in her veins was pulsing too fast, but it was hard to say exactly what it was related to: nerves or rather her physical condition, so to speak.

― Next time, choose the option to say something like that through your mouth, ― Maddie threw the folder on top of the stack a little more abruptly than she should have, causing it to tilt slightly to the side.

― If it whas possible, definitely, ― Masters left a small loophole for himself. A little more obvious this time, but still.

― Is there anything else related to the disease that I should know about? ― The question sounded harsh enough, more because of the woman's emotions than her desire to encourage him to reveal something she shouldn't have known.

And the list of such things was very impressive: from minor machinations and superpowers that took his very being as far away from Homo Sapiens as possible with the most similar DNA structure, to murders that he was quite consciously capable of doing if there was no other way out. To say no would be more than a simple lie.

― Vlad, you promised me the truth, ― Maddie's bitter reminder broke the long pause.

― I promised,― Vlad nodded confidently. ― I just don't quite understand what exactly you want to hear. There's a lot related to this, but here's what exactly interests you and what you should know...

― You've always been good at avoiding answers, ― the irritation was back in his voice. Vlad was walking on a damn sharp blade without insurance at the moment and it was impossible to stumble. If their communication had been less personal for him, the dialogue would probably have been easier. He would have dealt with Maddie like with all other people, from a much tougher and more distant position. I wouldn't make any promises or make any deals. He didn't even play the frankness game out of boredom and a desire to entertain himself a little.

But he couldn't do that to her.

― Experience forces me to be careful with my words, Madeleine, ― there was also a kind of honesty in this answer, but it's a pity that at this point in time the interlocutor will not be able to appreciate it.

― I'll ask you differently. Is this related to that incident with the ghost portal? ― the woman's train of thought became a little more understandable. It was a shame that without the opportunity to look into her head at least a little, she had to settle for such primitive guessing games. But on the other hand, it was better than almost seventeen years of silence.

― I thought so, until recently, ― Masters tried to understand the mood of the woman by the facial expressions on her tired face, but he saw only exhaustion and fatigue from everything that surrounded her and surrounded her. Being aware of myself as a part of this painful environment at the moment was almost physically unpleasant. ― At least until I ran into the hostages of the Gothic circus. So now I'm honestly not sure about that, ― he tried to get off the topic of the portal as quickly as possible. Maybe in other circumstances or in a different state of mind, he would have lingered on her even more, after all, she was important to him personally. But not this time.

― As far as I understand, the patients can't say anything about the details, and judging by the information, ― she adjusted a stack of medical records, ― They're barely able to figure out where they are now and remember where they've been all this time.

― Unfortunately, it's like that and even worse. Some people don't even remember their name the first time, ― Vlad held back a disappointed sigh. It was easier to interview patients as a telepath, but it often still required him to know the language. The scattered mental images of some of the most adequate often contained street names, posters, ticket numbers, and someone else's speech, in a language he didn't know anyway. Yes, technically, he had a much larger amount of information, but unfortunately, because of its randomness and haphazardness, he could hardly use it.

― Are they all that bad? ― Maddie's voice trembled slightly. At that moment, Vlad felt even more offended by the fact that he couldn't even see into her mind with the edge of his consciousness.

― Not all of them. One is more or less sane and even relatively strong in body, as much as possible with her critically low weight. She's willing to make contact, but there's still a problem with his language, ― Vlad understood perfectly well what this whole conversation was about. And how it can end. ― Not to say that everything is completely bad, but often you will have to guess the meaning of what was said.

Maddie stared at him intently and intently. It was as if she was trying to recognize the authenticity of her words with her gaze. This hurt the man a little, although as a person who had only recently found out about what was happening in her house behind her back, she could be understood.

― Do you have any suggestions about what you and the slaves from the circus corpse might have in common? ― she asked rather bluntly.

It's hard to just walk away from such a question and not lie. The “no” stuck in Vlad's throat like a lump. His otherworldly body itself did not allow him to go against the promise of honesty secured by the deal. And a year earlier, it was this word that did not allow him to just ignore requests for help from Danny. And it also didn't allow him to lie directly to Maddie right now. He had the right to remain silent, but that wouldn't help in this situation. If he didn't want to start melting down like a cast member who died a couple of days ago, he needed Maddie. But without answers, she won't help him even if she wants to, which is probably minimal at the moment.

― Yes, ― Vlad replied. ― But the explanation will take time to take effect... non-standard features.

― What kind of non-standard? ― Maddie asked.

― Enough to say that Jack wasn't completely wrong when he said that there were real vampires performing in the Gothic vampire circus. There was some truth in his obsessive delirium, but it was very small.

It was going to be a long conversation, and given how white Maddie was, Vlad not only had to continue to be careful with his choice of words, but he probably also had to cook the ammonia. The sharply increased smell of blood made the tip of his nose itch, obsessively reminding him that this conversation was not at the right time. Just a little bit.

It would be better to postpone it for at least another three days.

[ris-n]

NINA

I have a favorite original character. A favorite that I've been painting for a very long time and most often. The image of which I was fixated on even before I learned how to adequately hold pencils in my hands. And now I really want to tell you a little bit about her and her story.

Probably the first time I thought about the image of a little girl who is better avoided late at night in a dark alley was in elementary school (not the most rosy period of my life, to be honest, it was difficult to think about the good and the bright). The first time I tried to portray this nameless girl was in 2007. Skill level, as you can see. (￣▽￣*)ゞ

In 2010, I tried to return to this image when I mastered free graphic editor. Drawing with the mouse (those were hard times). And preparing for the final exams did not add optimism, only thirst for blood. Back then, she still didn't have a name, but the concept of a bloodthirsty cutie with a bow and honest blue eyes remained.

In 2012, after I entered university, when the design and painting classes hadn't really started yet, but the basics were already being mastered, I remembered the girl again. Back then, she was still wearing an indecently short dress and lace-up knee socks. It's not very charming or cute, especially now that I'm looking at it after all this time. But then it sincerely seemed to me that this was something cute and even childish to some extent (I was naive and did not have any adequately formed sense of taste).

In 2017, after graduating from university and getting a more or less stable and paid job, I returned to the image of a sweet girl who is better left alone. I made the sketch with a black liner during a break at work to dampen the internal fire a little after one of the customers decided, moving closer and putting his hand on my knee, to explain why men like deep sacking in their wide trousers so much (don't ask).

And a little later in 2017, I made an oval portrait of this cutie in pink. With the same blue eyes and a big bow in her wavy brown hair. That's when she got her name. Nina. As well as his own story. Perhaps it would be more correct to call it the sublimation of anger, which should not be poured out on others. But it didn't really affect her visually. She was still sweet and seemed teary-eyed, but a dark, dark essence lurked in the details. Even if it's not as elegant as originally intended.

In 2018, I finally realized that elegant and subtle hints are absolutely not my thing. It was decided to separate the image of Nina's cute cutie and her dark essence a little more seriously, but still leave it as one. And at that moment, a Blob appeared - Nina's old friend, whom she had called in her childhood, having been left all alone on her birthday. If she used to look like a very little girl, now she has become a little older and more mature, but she has not lost her love for pink and lace.

In 2020, the Blob has already undergone a greater evolution. She acquired her own more individual character and traits, but was still inextricably linked with Nina. As a part of not only her body, but also her personality. Although at that moment it still seemed to me that there was something missing in this image.

By 2021, I tried to experiment with Nina and Blob's relationship. After all, a monster should also have its advantages from a relationship with a helpless girl who is unable to defend herself on her own, due to her fragile appearance and beautiful face, attracting personalities who saw her as an easy target. I really liked the image of the bait of a deep-sea anglerfish. She still seemed good to me then))) But in the end, I decided that Nina and Blob were too far apart in this form.

And already in 2022, during October, I decided to take a step back. Give the Blob its shapeless appearance, and Nina a little more independence in appearance. She made the Clot a part of Nina's black soul, which receives power from this blackness in exchange for a stable supply of food (bad people and their souls, or negative events).

[ris-n]

What is orientation called on the modern Internet when you are not at all interested in what kind of person in front of you looks like and what gender he is, but you are attracted solely by the principle of emotional comfort and agree to be with even a monstrous devilish creature if she treats you well, you feels comfortable with it and sincerely hurry to meet with her to tell her how your day and listen to what your favorite monster had problems at work?

[ris-n]

The first one born on Earth

"How is my sacrifice worse than a slaughtered lamb? Even more work was put into it than into grazing the animal. Or does a moody god prefer to watch blood flow?"

The first one born on Earth – Hazbin Hotel, God God «Christian Bible» Fanfiction by Natari

Read 'The first one born on Earth', a Hazbin Hotel, God God «Christian Bible» fanfiction by Natari. How is my sacrifice worse than a slaught

Chapter 9: Price of love

Summary:

― For him, all human souls are equal. ― But the chosen ones, like our father, are clearly more equal. His soul is valued by God more, even the most worthy inhabitant of this city, ― Cain threw with a grin. ― Look around you. This place is a beautiful creation of human hands. The paradise human made for themselves. In which they dared to be happy. But even this place is not perfect, and there is still pain, suffering, and deprivation. I'm sure if God ends up in the skin of some penniless carpenter, then all that love you're talking about will quickly evaporate. Even if there really was one. He will never be kind to everyone equally, because he has already made it perfectly clear that he had and still has his favorites.

Notes:

I would like to clarify right away that there are some differences of interpretation in the Christian religions regarding humanity outside of Adam's family. Technically, canon says that only Cain was expelled from the family for fratricide. One. Nevertheless, later his children are mentioned, who appeared from unknown woman after his expelled. This is where the discrepancies begin, because some believe that Kain left the family with an unknown sister, who was given to him as a wife (and probably she is not most beloved daughter of Adam). And others are sure that Cain found his wife after he left. From among the pagans, who, from the point of view of early Christianity, were not considered full-fledged people (after all, people are only those who believe in the same god as them). Some people still use such excuses to belittle representatives of other faiths, but that's a story for another time.

Why demons need human souls and for what purpose do they lure people to hell?

Cain wondered about this from time to time after his father's emotional story about sins and misdeeds that upset God. He stopped listening a long time ago, simply because Adam never gave an answer to this interesting question. There are only vague threats and promises of heaven's punishment, but what good are they? When you don't even know what paradise looks like and you've never been there, you're not afraid to lose it. What's the point of being afraid of losing what you don't have, haven't had, and never will have, if he believe his parent's words? What if you don't like this suspense at all, which you'll be stuck in forever? And what's the point of trying to get a reward that you probably don't even need?

However, Cain found a suitable interlocutor to ask this question after he left Adam's family, starting to look for his place in the world.

The creature introduced itself as Satan. The Lord's left hand, which does the dirtiest work for him. Smart, cunning, treacherous, not married. And most importantly, he had nothing to do with Adam. That was all Cain needed at that point in time. Of the disadvantages, there was only an insistent desire to conclude some kind of contract or pact, which seemed extremely suspicious to the young man, but nevertheless they stipulated one condition. Honesty.

Satan himself was not too pleased with the deal for such a small thing, but it seems that almost any contract suited him. The red-faced creature really wanted to somehow connect herself with Cain, and this aroused incredible interest, but the First Born on Earth could not afford not to show at least minimal caution. And mutual honesty could not only allow Cain to learn a little more about how the world works outside of the area familiar to the young man, but also to understand how it was possible to fulfill Satan's little wish.

That would take time. A lot of time to develop a plan, to understand how to implement it at least in partial secrecy from the Lord. And also to find a saint whom God will gladly accept into heaven after death, and who will not mind communicating with a sinner like Cain.

***

Sif received a message from her long-gone brother unexpectedly. It was brought by a tame falcon with a small purse attached to its paws, in which a message sealed with magic was hidden. In it, her brother reported that he had found people. Other people who lived on earth before their parents were expelled from Paradise. He described how much they were different from them, but the description was short and very stingy. Obviously, Cain couldn't say much because the letter shouldn't have been too heavy for a charming bird of prey.

The woman scratched the falcon's neck and pushed the pieces of fish she was cleaning to cook dinner closer to him. The little creature happily began to eat the treat while the girl wrote her brother a reply. In a short message, Cain invited her to see the world with her own eyes beyond the territory outlined by her parents, and she agreed to this. After their family grew and there were more than fifty people in it, including not only the children of Adam and Eve, but also their grandchildren, it became absolutely impossible for them to live under one roof.

Adam could no longer control every member of his extended family, and this largely freed Sif's hands. Therefore, after receiving the second response from Cain, she packed a small bag of things and set off on her way. It was going to be quite a long one. Surely her absence will be noticed and upon her return it will result in a big scandal.

If she comes back, of course.

To make her way a little easier, the woman harnessed her beloved donkey, which was stubborn and obeyed her exclusively. And went to the East, where the lands of Nod described by Cain were located, inhabited by people who were not so loved by the Lord and who had never known Paradise. They lives was short, no more than sixty years at the very best. They believed that there were many gods, and that the earth was inhabited by magical creatures that had nothing to do with hell or heaven. Sif was genuinely curious, and that was a sin, according to Adam. He would probably curse her, too, when and if she returned. She will be threatened with the fact that the entrance to heaven will be forever closed to her, as well as to Cain. But she almost didn't care anymore.

After brother left, there was less food, because there was no one else who understood more about agriculture than Cain, and all the remaining family members essentially had to learn everything almost from scratch. They also lost Abel, the best animal breeder in their family. This made existence extremely sad, but Adam appointed anyone but himself to be the culprits of all the troubles. Although he was the head of the family, constantly talking about how he was responsible for their welfare to the creator himself.

It's amazing that their family continued to grow in such cramped conditions. Adam was convinced that they were not dying out solely because they were still the Lord's favorites. And the fact that Eva and all Sif's adult sisters give birth almost every year had absolutely nothing to do with it.

The woman felt sick and cramped in her usual home. She felt like a wolf in a trap of other people's children, dirty diapers and an endless stream of babies with whom she had to deal as the only one who did not give birth herself. The only times she was needed were when it was necessary to throw a new baby into her arms and at the same moment once again remind her that this was her fate. That's her role in the family. Hollowflowers should also be useful in some way, since they can't produce fruit.

Having stopped for the night, Sif almost burst into tears, lighting a fire and pitching a small tent for herself. She loved children. The babies seemed charming to her, but as soon as they grew up a little, they adopted the behavior of their parents. They started disobeying, acting up, and calling her a useless flower from which no fruit was born. This was usually repeated by children without any intent. Their eyes were empty, as were their heads, which Sif could not fill with anything useful. Any information flowed out of them like water from cracked jugs.

The only one who sympathized with her at least a little was a sturdy donkey who began to lick tears from her cheeks. He was looking for salt, his favorite delicacy, and it was understood by Sif. Nevertheless, the gesture of the simple-minded animal lifted the woman's mood a little.

To Nod Sif traveled to earth for almost ten days, stopping only for overnight stays. And the view spread out before her eyes at one point was incredible. A big city. high stone walls and massive gates. The ships that sailed on the sea were dozens of times larger than Adam's modest fishing boat. There were indeed many people within the city walls. Some of them had skin as black as the night sky, and Sif had never seen such people before. But there were others. Big red-bearded men with big white faces covered with red spots of burns from the scorching sun came down from the ships with barrels and bales. There were people with narrow, almost completely closed eyes, whose hair was straight and stiff in appearance. Each of them had different clothes. There were different patterns on dresses, and each of them spoke a different language, none of which Sif could even roughly identify.

She was quickly stopped by several men in thick leather breastplates and with beautiful wide knives hanging from their belts. They asked her something, but the woman just stood there in a stupor and looked at them, trying to figure out what they wanted from her.

Sif was a little scared of their harsh appearance and the scars on their faces, so she didn't immediately think to show them the little message that Cain had attached to his invitation. The text was written there in an incomprehensible language, but the brother in the letter insistently asked to take it with him and show it to the guards at the entrance to the city.

The men examined the paper carefully. They looked at her at the light of the sun, revealing a hidden pattern on the fabric in the form of an eagle and a snake, which Sif had not even noticed before, and taking the girl by the arms, they gestured for her to follow them. They hardly spoke and seemed very stern, as if there was something older and worse in their lives than the murder of one person and starvation due to long crop failures.

She was led towards a large building in the center of a large settlement after a long walk through narrow streets full of merchants, travelers and some people who diligently invited everyone who passed by to enter establishments with the image of butterflies on the entrance doors. Sif noticed that sometimes women stripped to the waist stood at such doors, showing off themselves and all their charms.

The city was full of sinners and lost souls. It was full of people who had never known the love of God, and that made Sif sad.

The large building had many halls, the largest of which was filled with huge shelves crammed with clay tablets and scrolls from floor to ceiling. There were people in light-colored clothes who studied the writings in the light of the sun and made some notes on brand-new cloth scrolls. Sif had never seen anything like this before, and therefore could not even guess the purpose of this place.

After several flights of stairs on one of the upper floors, she was finally led into a hall with a large table on which was a miniature of a giant settlement made of stone and Cain, who was having a heated discussion with a tanned woman in an unknown language, and a young man who looked very much like him in his chilldhood was writing something down on a small wax tablet. Apparently, this was a plan for the construction of a new area located on the other side of a wide navigable river.

― Oh, Sif! ― Cain exclaimed, finally paying attention to the newcomers. ― Finally! We haven't seen each other for so many years! I didn't even hope that you would actually accept the invitation.

Her brother hugged her with all the tenderness and warmth he had. He hasn't changed a bit since his exile. Except that his skin became a little lighter due to the fact that under the scorching sun he clearly spent many times less time than before, working in the fields for their family. It was almost touching and brought the woman back to their youth for a moment.

― I missed you too, brother, ― Sif replied tenderly.

― This is my wife, Ruu, and our son, Enoch, ― Cain introduced the others in the audience. The woman smiled with restraint, her straight and long hair was gathered in an intricate hairstyle. covered with a mesh of fine fine beads. And the young man seemed so modest that he hardly even looked up from his notes.

― I'm very glad to meet you, ― Ruu came up with a smile, extending her hand to Sif and gently squeezing her fingers in her hot palms. ― Cain told me a lot about you. And I'm glad to finally meet you. I hope your journey was easy.

― Easier than I expected, ― Sif replied modestly. ― Apparently, the Lord accompanied me and protected me on the road.

― The Lord? ― the young man asked with obvious surprise in his voice, finally looking up from his tablets. ― Who's that?

― Let's come back to this later, ― Cain interrupted his son and turned back to his sister. ― You must be tired from the journey. A room and a bathroom should have been prepared for you by now. My dear, please take her to her chambers, and in the meantime I will inquire about dinner.

To have at their disposal huge chambers of several rooms with high ceilings and full-length windows, covered with thick white stoles that from time to time waved from gusts of hot and salty wind from the Great Sea. They had a comfortable soft bed with a mattress filled with down, not straw. A massive copper basin, which served as a substitute for bathing in the river for the inhabitants of large stone houses. Filled almost to the brim with warm water.

After Sif had washed off the dirt of all ten days of the journey, new clothes were brought to her, taking the old dresses in order to put them in order. The fabric of the new robes seemed incredibly thin and soft to the woman. Which could easily fit into many graceful folds and looked unusually luxurious. Adam probably would not have approved of such waste, because no one except the inhabitants of Paradise is worthy of such beauty and luxury.

“Sinners are not worthy of anything," ― said the father of the family.

Looking at herself in the large, perfectly polished copper mirror, Sif couldn't recognize herself. No one kept mirrors in Adam's house, because he believed that admiring oneself was a sin. And usually the woman looked at herself only in the reflection of the water while washing by the stream. Ruu came to the guest personally to escort her to dinner and rub her skin burned under the hot sun with healing ointments with a bright smell of medicinal herbs. Because of such care and cordiality, Sif felt like a resident of Paradise in her father's descriptions, even though she was still on earth. And even more sinful than the house of Adam and Eve.

After a hearty dinner with lots of herbs and spices, Sif felt a little sleepy, even though she hadn't finished ewen one portion. It was almost surprising to her to see such excesses after many years of abstinence from them and fasting.

― You don't like it? ― Enoch asked cautiously, watching as Seth pushed the plate away from him, which still had food on it.

― No, it's fine, ― Sif assured the boy immediately. ― I'm just not used to eating so much.

The place seemed absolutely incredible to the woman. It were unearthly, and that made her want to talk to her brother alone even more, and she barely waited until the end of dinner to ask him the most important question.

― Has all this always existed here? ― Sif asked, looking at the night city on the seashore shining in the moonlight and at the distant tower standing in the middle of the water, pointing its light at the way for late―arriving ships and local fishermen so that they would not get lost in the dark sea waters. ― Was all this beauty built by people we didn't even know about?

― Almost, ― Cain replied. ― In the past, it was a fishing village, near which the fortresses of Sodom and Gomorrah were located, but in order to intelligently and correctly manage such large settlements, I clearly had too little experience. ― Cain was lost in his distant memories, looking somewhere at the western part of the city, where a wide navigable river flowed between the districts of the polis. ― As a result, those cities ended up in the mud and were later captured by the Pharaoh of the Lower Kingdom, who wanted to open his way to the Great Sea. And yet I managed to come to an agreement with them in peace and avoid many deaths. And then convince Pharaoh that I can create a decent port for the new ruler, which eventually turned into what you see right in front of your eyes, ― Cain waved his hand at the sleeping city, which stretched almost to the horizon. The distant Pharaoh's palace, with magnificent man-made sculpture gardens covered in gold paint, towered over this beauty, standing on top of the nearest mountain on the other side of the river. ― When I managed to get an answer from you in a letter, I didn't even believe it. All this time before you came, I remembered my father's words that only our family are God's creatures. That only we can be considered real people and there is no one else in this world besides us. But really... ― Cain was silent for a while, running his fingers over a small mural on the wall, with the image of his wife, with a very young Enoch in her arms. ― In fact, the world is so huge. So different. And the people in it are much more worthy of God's love than Adam.

― Don't say that, brother, ― Sif sighed in frustration. A gust of wind carried to her the scent of incense from a nearby temple dedicated to the goddess with the head of a cat. There were many cats in polis, and those who lived in her brother's chambers at the library even wore luxurious gold jewelry with precious stones. Before dinner, Ruu said that these small animals are revered by the locals as those who know the way to the Fields Aaru. A place that was the equivalent of Paradise here. ― Everyone deserves God's love equally. And I am sure that God loves all these people in the same way.

― Then why have they never been to heaven, unlike our parents? ― Cain asked. ― Why are their lives so short and their bodies so fragile? Why didn't God even consider it necessary to appear in front of them or send one of the angels here, if he really wanted everyone on Earth to believe in him, which he himself created? The man sighed. ― Let's be honest with each other, Sister. God did not love and will never love all his creatures equally. And that's what I see most clearly in this city after all these years.

― Why are you so sure of that? ― Sif asked sadly, stroking the affectionate little cat with a necklace of amber shards.

Cain sighed, almost disappointed. There seemed to be turmoil in his mind and soul. The doubts that had been accumulating in him for years since childhood seemed to take the form of a majestic gilded statue of the cat goddess, which was so clearly visible from the windows of the house above the library. It took a while for the man to formulate everything he was thinking. What had accumulated in his soul.

― Because I know our father, ― he finally replied. ― After seeing all this, Adam will surely call all the peple of this place sinners who deserve to burn in hell and boil in excrement. And if you believe him, then he is the likeness of the Lord. Almost a complete copy of it. And if this is true, then the Lord thinks the same way as Adam. Perceives all people in the same way as Adam. I'm sure if the creator is really as similar to our father as we used to think, and is looking at us now, then he is sure that you are the only person here. All the other inhabitants of this city are nothing more than talking animals, and I am the biggest sinner, since I married a “creature”, which, according to Adam's interpretation, is not human.

Cain was silent for a while, staring at his sister with malice in his eyes. The same resentment against his father and God himself that had been growing in his heart for years. The same pain from the wounds inflicted by Adam for his misdeeds. Minor details that could easily have been solved in simple words.

― You're mad at father, and I can understand that, ― Sif sighed. ― But he's also a sinner. Just like me. Just like any of us. But I am sure that if there is more goodness in people's hearts than sin, then God will receive them in Paradise. He will close his eyes to minor offenses, especially if you sincerely repent of them, ― Sif said, folding her hands in prayer and looking at the distant starry sky. ― For him, all human souls are equal.

― But the chosen ones, like our father, are clearly more equal. His soul is valued by God more, even the most worthy inhabitant of this city, ― Cain threw with a grin. ― Look around you. This place is a beautiful creation of human hands. The paradise human made for themselves. In which they dared to be happy. But even this place is not perfect, and there is still pain, suffering, and deprivation. I'm sure if God ends up in the skin of some penniless carpenter, then all that love you're talking about will quickly evaporate. Even if there really was one. He will never be kind to everyone equally, because he has already made it perfectly clear that he had and still has his favorites.

***

The trial of a certain Stolas was recently held in the courtroom. Frankly speaking, Satan didn't care about this name, as well as the fate of the so-called aristocrat. He was even happy to lower this skinny owl with a crown on its head to the level of an ordinary demon. To shake a little the foundations of the hellborn, in which they still firmly believed. Their rules. Values that these creatures have invented for themselves.

But what he was really interested in was the affairs of the Hubris Circle. Lucifer himself had taken over business in this part of hell a long time ago, but in fact his wife had been doing everything, and for the last seven years everything had been completely left to chance, which made the circle incredibly attractive to all hellborn.

And who wouldn't take the opportunity to do business in a place where there are no laws and everything is possible? That's right, no one on the whole damn planet. Especially sinners.

Satan had a reputation as a punk. Creature going against the system, rules, and attitudes established from Above. And it was precisely because of this that no one assumed that he was the biggest bore in Hell. Even the lords of the other circles could not stand his “stuffiness”, officiousness and desire to use every opportunity to fill all the hellish creatures with the fact that he was the first and only Lord here, and not Lucifer at all.

No matter how hard Satan tried to be polite and follow all the formalities, but in fact he still did not feel any minimal warm feelings for this slug king of hell, who grew up in hothouse paradises and worked with the most innocent souls in the world.

Adam and Eve were repugnant to Satan, as well as greenhouse flowers that were not adapted to life in the real world. The Lord's favorites. His most valuable toys. Whose soul, as it turned out, is not worth anything at all. The discovery is extremely unpleasant and even disgusting. Sometimes, on long winter evenings, Satan, sitting by the fireplace in his mansion, thought about how it happened. The Almighty had many creatures. All but two of them lived on earth, and getting their souls was always a problem. For them, moral were almost always in the first place, and those who were willing to sell themselves for a couple of comforts and their own comfort were cheap. Their souls had almost no energy or strength, and eating them was almost as disgusting as chewing lettuce instead of a juicy steak. No calories, no strength, no energy.

Useless creatures.

“God does not give trials that mortals cannot handle,” ― Cain said. Satan's most valuable asset and his best deal to this day. The immortal chosen one of God, the offspring of his two favorites and the first sinner among sinners. The contract concluded with him was trivial, but nevertheless it was he who allowed Satan to maintain and hold power in Hell even after the fall of Lucifer and his woman... What was her name? However, that's not the point. The main thing was the power he received from the soul of God's chosen one. Only the soul of the creator himself was higher.

It is not surprising that the Almighty himself was afraid of such a force. And how lucky he was to have such a trivial contract with Cain himself. All that was required of him to this day was honesty. No one forced him to always answer questions if the answer was not personally beneficial to him. No one could hold him accountable for his evasiveness or ambiguity. In fact, it's nothing for the opportunity to get a contract with the Creator... which he had so stupidly missed at the time. Cain really fulfilled his part, because he promised him the opportunity to meet God in the body of a mortal man, and not that the finished contract would be brought to Satan on a platter.

It's all fair.

Satan remained in the courtroom after the trial of a couple of demons, even after all the other lords had left. They have always disliked such events and have never even been particularly focused on work. They always wanted to eat, drink, have fun, fuck, or at least just lazily lie in bed and sleep. In moments of forced communication with the Lords of the circles, Satan only wanted to kill, and the only one who helped him control himself was a small personal demon assistant who reminded him of the importance of keeping face in front of current allies. Spoiling relations with the lords of Hell would be foolish, at least while Satan is in the minority.

― You should go on vacation, Your Darkest, ― the imp remarked, sitting on Satan's broad shoulder, who was sprawled out on his throne, staring blankly at the flames dancing in the cracks of the floor. ― For so many centuries you have been working without a single day off, and even in the company of those who do not help you at all.

― I can't quit my job because of this, ― Satan sighed. ― Hell is already falling apart. The reputation of the fiery Hyena, even among mortals, could not be worse. They are no longer afraid of us, contracts are concluded without any problems, and because of this, the price of each individual soul in our halls is worth less dirt on a country road. ― The High Demon closed his eyes and tiredly massaged his temples. ― The economy is fucked up. Circles lose their inhabitants after Lucifer closed the circle of Pride, following the lead of the nobility. His domain is overflowing with sinners, even considering that they have been cut out in batches for the last seven years. The nobility thought that this would help them fill their pockets with the souls of mortals and at the same time not dirty their pens. Naive geeks, against which even the Habsburgs no longer seem so ugly.

― Don't forget about breathing, Your Darkest, ― the imp purred affectionately, giving Vladyka a light head massage. ― That's why I'm offering you at least a short vacation. Your temporary inaction may prompt other lords to take action. They're like children. If you want for them to act, then you need to stop solving their problems.

― Good advice for a kindergarten teacher, ― a voice with hissing radio interference rang out in the hall. ― But knowing who Lucifer is, this state of affairs does not seem surprising.

Satan turned around in surprise at the unfamiliar voice and saw a man in the shadow of the hall. The soul of a sinner. One of those who have long had no access to anywhere but the circle of Pride. Tall was a man with a wide smile and a microphone cane, whose blood smelled of the familiar smell of an old contract.

― The Cain Tribe, ― the Demon said with a smile. ― And how did you end up here, child?

The sinner snorted with annoyance, but the wide smile on his face did not waver. It was always easy to hurt someone like him, but purely out of respect for his ancestor, the first murderer among the chosen ones kissed by the Lord, Satan restrained himself and his sarcasm. Although it was almost impossible to hold back a smile at the sight of this child in an adult's body.

― Let me introduce myself first. I am Alastor, Mr. Cain's gardener, ― the shadows of the courtroom stirred. There were black roots hidden in them, occasionally covered with blood-red leaves. The power of Heaven itself could be felt inside, and the golden blood of the righteous exorcists flowed. The sinner was clearly not as simple as it seemed, and if Satan had not been following the affairs in all circles, he would have been surprised. ― I'm here at Mr. Cain's request. To give you a small invitation.

Thin roots appeared from the ground next to the sinner. They were so black that they looked flat, sucking in all the light from the torches. Alastor took out a small envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and put it in the roots, which disappeared again at the same moment in order to appear next to Satan. A beautiful gesture that allowed the sinner not to look ridiculous, handing the invitation personally into the hands of a dragon-like giant creature. He didn't have to get up to him from the floor, and he certainly didn't have to bend down to him. It had been a long time since Satan had even seen such behavior from hell-born aristocrats. Did some little sinner who was barely a hundred years old know how to behave more decently than these pompous birds? How long has it been since he's seen a politically accurate tact that he's impressed by such a small thing?

― And why would Cain need a gardener? ― Satan carefully began to study the letter from the father of all murderers. The smooth letters of the most ancient language of God's chosen ones, written in Cain's handwriting, bore the imprint of his almost limitless spiritual power. Spells to prevent paper from burning in the flames of hell immediately after it was lowered into Hell were part of household magic, which hell-born aristocrats looked down upon with disdain. Previously, only witches and warlocks had done this on earth, who were almost completely exterminated by the Inquisition for knowing too much. The obedient daughters of Cain, who were personally given the best corner in Hell next to Elysium by Satan. Isolated from all the circles and even slightly towering over them.

― To take care of the Roots of the new World Tree, of course, ― a childish boastfulness could be felt in the voice with an admixture of white noise. ― I suppose the candidates besides me weren't good enough, and he didn't dare entrust such a case to your people. Probably because I didn't want to bother your Darkest with such a small thing.

The cocky little bitch made Satan smile. He was telling the truth. Politely, carefully, but with an incredible desire to show what he is worth at the moment. And it really costs a lot if it coped with the task. He's a weakling in fights, unremarkable in strength, with almost no special powers and almost no contracts. But in skills... Well, Cain always knew how to choose his allies.

― Meeting at the crossroads bar? ―The demon rubbed his chin, reading the text. ― And you're saying that you're going to make the transition to earth, bypassing the milestones of the rules set by the hellborn and the heavens themselves?

Satan knew the answer to that question. He had his own eyes and ears all over Hell, and besides, Cain himself wouldn't have sent his man to him if he wasn't sure he could handle it. But nevertheless, the demon wanted to hear the answer from the mouth of his visitor, who, bypassing all the restrictions of hell, left the Circle of Pride. It was an interesting attack on the rules set by Lucifer and his wife.

― Don't worry about it, Your Darkest, ― Alastor replied calmly. ― I know my job.

***

Friday. Evening.

The air at the intersection near the old bar was incredibly unusual and light. Smog-free volcanoes, moist, cool and delicious. Frogs croaking and crickets singing could be heard from the lake closest to the meeting place.

― It's been a while since I've been to earth, ― Satan said with a smile, assuming human form. In it he looked like an ordinary middle-aged man with a slight streak of gray in his curly hair. ― I almost didn't doubt you, Alastor, ― the demon entered the bar, being ushered ahead by the sinner's courteous gesture.

It was pleasant inside, it smelled of cigars and expensive alcohol, and a swarthy man in a neat business suit was sitting at one of the tables. This "man” Satan was quite familiar with them and in the past they often carried out God's orders on earth. Unpleasant from their personal point of view and completely inhuman from the point of view of mortals.

― It's been a long time, my friend! ― Satan shook hands with an old acquaintance, who rose from a soft leather sofa to greet him. ― What is the reason for wanting to meet?

Alastor moved behind the bar, leaving his microphone cane on the small stage. Light, unobtrusive music was pouring out of it, without attracting too much attention. The air was filled with the smells of alcohol and liqueurs mixed with each other in a cocktail shaker with ice. Apparently, it was this interesting sinner who was in charge of the bar at the moment. Satan even wanted to ask why the Horsemen decided to choose this particular place as their gathering point, but decided to save not particularly important questions for later.

― I even came early on purpose today. Just for you, ― War blew clouds of cigarette smoke into the air and handed the cigar to Satan, which he naturally accepted and allowed his old friend to light it for himself. ― I think you've already noticed that things are starting to change in Hell. You've always been observant, unlike our fallen brothers and sisters.

― I noticed,― the demon nodded in agreement. ― It's hard not to notice how those who were supposed to suffer in my underworld until the end of time are beginning to ascend from hell to heaven. I'm surprised that anyone is interested in this ascension at all, because Hell is not the same as it used to be... Or at least in the time of Dante.

― I haven't seen such a sour face on you since the creation of Adam and Eve and the declaration of their descendants as the chosen people. I've heard that the Lords of Circles have made a mess of your kingdom, but is it really that bad? ― War took his drink from Alastor's tray, black, tarry, and scented with fresh blood. Took a sip. ― Not bad, whose blood is it?

― Underage victims of the terrorist attack, ― there was a strange emptiness in Alastor's eyes, and his smile seemed strained. It seems even greenish threads could be seen on the corners of the lips.

― My favorite, ― the War said with pleasure, licking his lips after taking another sip of the drink. ― So what's going on in the Underworld that makes your face twist so much at the mere mention of it?

Satan took hold of the glass, which was emitting an infernal heat. It seems that this Mexican vodka had hellfire instead of pepper. As a bartender, the sinner clearly knew his business. Such drinks might not be exactly to his taste, but the number of degrees in it was enough to finally relax. For the first time after centuries of abstinence from libations, the demon finally exhaled. Still, his assistant was right, he needed at least one day off. A little time to exhale and drink in the company of real colleagues on the shop floor, and not a bunch of fallen ones who were simply kicked out of paradise for uselessness.

― It's a long story, ― Satan sighed, taking a sip of the scalding liquor and releasing clouds of smoke from his mouth after it. The sharpness was just right. ― These devils are barely engaged in their own circles. Only Mammon does something sensible, but everyone else... Beelzipop, the demon of gluttony, puts his dogs on a diet. Asmodeus, who is responsible for debauchery, suddenly became sharply opposed to sex without mutual consent. Moreover, he stopped indulging in debauchery himself, choosing a guy to whom he remains faithful. Imagine that! I am generally silent about Belphegor... Not infernal punishers, but some kind of shame! ― Satan gulped down the remaining drink and motioned for the sinner to repeat. ― They have turned from punishers into some kind of pampered pussies. They can't lay a finger on sinners, they walk under hellborn, they indulge them in everything and make all decisions in their favor. Putting them in charge of the Circles was a lousy idea. If it wasn't an order from Heaven, I would never trust them with such positions in my life.

― Well, it was God's will. We can't go against him, ― the Warlord patted his old comrade on the shoulder with a soothing gesture. ― But sinners can do that. I'm sure you've got a couple of special ones in mind, besides Cain's Gardener, who might be interested in stirring up Hell's swamp a bit.

― Because of the actions of Lucifer and his woman, they live in this pit as in a personal paradise, ― Satan sighed, accepting a couple of new shots from the tray and nodding politely to the sinner out of habit. ― They fuck, drink, kill, rob, and all without consequences. Because Lucifer can't control them, and all the other representatives of the infernal nobility don't want to do it. They locked this trash in a Circle of Pride, away from themselves, and even stopped climbing to the ground for new contracts. Why would sinners break such an ideal structure for themselves? For heaven? Almost no one needs it. Even the saints who descended to Pentagram City in order to help a couple of kids ascend can't change anything globally in this regard.

― Charming, ― said a familiar voice from the entrance. ― Do you work in Hell or in a manger?

― That's right, Plague, ― Satan smiled. ― You and your hard hand are missing there. Souls will never be worth the same amount again as they were even a hundred years ago.

― What are you talking about? ― The Plague asked, sitting down at the table with the men. ― A hundred years ago, they were already cheaper than a serving of fried potatoes.

― There are almost no righteous people like that, ― the War intervened in the conversation. ― There are only weaklings and perverts around, without willpower and minimal spiritual energy. Mortals don't value themselves and they've lost their value to us. The matter must be corrected, otherwise both Hell and Heaven will lose their power and we will fall into oblivion.

― But we have a couple of ideas, just like Cain, ― Plague lowered her voice, winking coquettishly at the bartender who brought her a fetid cocktail made from some kind of rot. ― But for this, we need you, your connections and abilities, ― the woman was, as always, extremely straightforward. This trait has always been in her and contrasted sharply with her ability to cause global epidemics by taking advantage of human stupidity. ― Recently, people have become smarter, it has not become so easy to infect them en masse, so Cain suggested starting our business from Hell. Arrange a rehearsal, so to speak. We'll wait for him and the others and discuss everything, right, fawn? ― The Plague turned to Alastor again with a flirtatious smile. Such attention was clearly not very pleasant to him, which amused the woman and provoked her to continue behaving like this.

― You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this offer, ― Satan smiled. ― Since the coming of Christ, I have not felt a greater desire to change anything in this thrice-cursed world.

[maikron]

Here's me trying to interpret how Danny's hazmat suit would look like if it were more realistic, based on my experience with biohazard PPE.

I feel like I also need to add a disclaimer to not use this as safety advice. Please consult your local health and safety guidelines prior to handling ectoplasm, ecto-contaminated materials, and/or ectobiological organisms!

[bitterwhitefox]

decay

(cw:blood)

ummm… kinda late for day 5

[ris-n]

The Chess

The Chess – Danny Phantom, Alex Andreev, Sergey Chekmarev, Sergey Lukyanenko and others The team of authors: «METRONOMICON» Fanfiction by Na

Read 'The Chess', a Danny Phantom, Alex Andreev, Sergey Chekmarev, Sergey Lukyanenko and others The team of authors: «METRONOMICON» fanficti

Chapter 19: Letting go of the pain

Summary:

"The local animals allow themselves too much," ― Frederick halfheartedly stirred the cooled soup with a plastic spoon. ― "They imagined themselves to be equal to people. They attack those who are higher in the hierarchy." Frick reluctantly scooped up the soup and, holding his breath, brought this abomination to his mouth when out of the corner of his eye he noticed a blurred figure in red in the reflection of the one-way window. ― Finally back! ― Frederick exclaimed, turning towards the boy in the red dress. ― I already thought that you had abandoned me, my little one. Now, be a good little dog and get me out of here, Liu.

The room was quite dark because of the tightly drawn black curtains. The silence of the locked room was broken only by the ticking of the clock and the muffled sobs of a girl hiding her face behind a black veil. The thin fabric was soaked through with tears, and thickly applied mascara and eyeliner spread across her cheeks.

Sam didn't even try to wipe the dirt off her face, just wiping her reddened nose from time to time. She started crying while talking to her best friend Danny and didn't even notice it right away. Just continuing to listen to the guy who needed support, she noticed at some point that her nose was stuffy, which caused her voice to become nasal. It didn't go unnoticed at the other end, and Danny asked if she was okay, if she was sick? But Sam waved her off, saying that she probably just had a slight runny nose and continued the dialogue.

Only after hanging up the phone and blowing her nose did Gotessa finally look at herself in the mirror. Tears were pouring out of her dark purple eyes in a continuous stream, the reason for which she did not understand. The eyelids under the thick layer of black pigment were inflamed from salt and visibly swollen. The tears flowed for so long that they rolled down her face and got under the collar of her mourning dress, which was already completely soaked in front.

For the situation in which his best friend and a young vampire found themselves, caught in the hot hand of a ghost hunter, it was insulting to the point of tears, but not literally. But Sam couldn't stop tears. What was happening to her eyes looked like some very exaggerated allergy symptoms, but with a pretty significant difference - Sam didn't feel bad. The physical sensations, apart from the stuffy nose, were indistinguishable from her usual daily state until she looked in the mirror. Moreover, after talking to Danny, she even felt some kind of spiritual uplift. The eternal mourning, which she so diligently adhered to, seemed to have acquired new meanings. Black has become not just black, but has acquired many shades of hopeless darkness, which absorbs all the colors of the world. Anyone would surely find such a state incredibly self-destructive and depressing, but she... She saw something infinitely beautiful in him.

The gothessa just continued to sit in front of the mirror, throwing back her translucent veil and watching the tears continue to flow down the cheeks of the reflection. She listened to herself, trying to figure out what else had changed. Maybe it was actually a dormant allergy to something for a long time, and then some other symptoms should appear: cough, itching, rash, shortness of breath, something. But no, her body just kept tearing tears out of eyes, and that was it. Except for an abnormally large loss of fluid, there was nothing else.

"I wonder where does so much moisture fit in my eyes?" — Sam asked herself, sniffling again. — "My mother will probably get angry, she'll say that I'm just trying to manipulate her and put pressure on her," — thought Gotessa, watching as the streams of tears become smaller. The process was slow and unhurried, but eventually the unreasonable strange crying stopped.

Manson sat in front of the mirror for a while longer, peering intently at her reflection, as if searching for a trick. She wiped her face dry, smearing the kayal and mascara even more on her cheeks. She touched her skin with fingertips, but didn't find any new traces of moisture.

— That's weird, ― she muttered, getting up from the black ottoman and pulling off her shawl.

She needed to wash her face. To bring herself into a human form at least a little, so that the mother would have a little less cause for scandal. Pamela had already given her a hard time after returning home. Although while Masters was in sight, she behaved differently: she was kind to her, hugged her shoulders, cooed and talked only about how worried she was. It was unlikely that this farce was capable of deceiving someone like Nosferatu, who could easily get into other people's heads, but the woman continued to play the comedy until Vlad finally retreated. Then Pam switched to a much more familiar mode of operation: scandal and locking the room with a key.

The lock was not a problem for gothic girl. Nor was this mother's behavior a problem. All she felt for a long time after contacting her was fatigue. The kind that makes you wake up exhausted even after a full eight hours of sleep. But after this sudden fit of crying, even the eternal malaise and weakness seemed to disappear, along with all these seemingly endless tears. There was a pleasant semi-darkness in head, and lightness in her body.

Opening the door of her own room with a small lock pick, Sam headed for the bathroom, grabbing a change of clothes and underwear. She really wanted to get herself in order and enjoy the usual warm shower, and not the sanitary treatment like last night. She probably had fewer germs on her body than ever before in her life, but the sanitizer that was poured over her from head to toe couldn't compare to ordinary warm water.

***

— Grandma, are you sure? — Pauline looked doubtfully at the facade of the rich house on Ritchie Street. Classic red and white brick masonry, tall windows, a couple of which were covered with thick black curtains, a neat garden behind a small fence and luxuriantly blooming bushes of dwarf roses at the entrance. Nothing about this average rich house gave away what Grandma was talking about this morning. ― I mean, it doesn't look like someone lived here who devoted his time and energy to mourning the dead in his youth.

— You don't look like someone who could afford to go up against an embittered poltergeist either, — the old woman smiled with a sly squint. On the wrinkled face, the emotions seemed twice as vivid and expressive. ― Not everything is what it seems. You should know that, dear.

Pauline jumped out of the taxi, hurried to pay the driver and, running around the car, opened the door for her grandmother, helping her out of the cabin. Leaning on her cane and the strong hand of her granddaughter, the woman somehow got to her feet, straightening the folds of her colorful skirt. As the taxi drove away, she allowed herself to straighten her back as much as possible at her age, and adjusted the thick gray braid that lay on her shoulder.

— Besides, it's been a while since we've discussed anything but boring life, — she said, walking slowly up the steps to the front door of the house, which was painted a perfect white. ― It will be useful for her to occupy her old brain with something other than poker.

Pauline only shook her head with a slight degree of disapproval, continuing to smile. Her grandmother's passion for gambling with her friends on Saturdays was completely incomprehensible to her. Just the fact that they weren't playing for money was a little reassuring. Until that day, the girl had never met her grandmother's longtime friend in person and had only heard about her. Women usually gathered at the house of their third friend and preferred not to visit often, more because of their age and difficulties with movement than because they did not want to sharpen their tongues for an extra couple of hours.

After the doorbell rang, the door was not opened immediately. It's understandable, the old lady in the electronic wheelchair definitely needed extra time to move around. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head, a pink oversized sweatshirt with a white shirt collar sticking out from under it and a long plaid skirt covering her thin, dystrophic ankles covered with pigment spots in white socks and slippers. A typical rich old lady didn't look like someone who could help Pauline solve the problem, but since her grandmother was sure of it, it was worth a try.

― Isabella! ― the hostess of the house exclaimed in a raspy voice. — I didn't think a turtle like you would get to me in less than an hour.

— You should have, Ida. Unlike you, I still walk, — the elderly Mexican woman replied sarcastically. In response, Ida just laughed in her raspy voice, sliding back in her chair a little and letting the guests into the house.

― And this, as I understand it, is your granddaughter? — Ida's pale, faded eyes were surprisingly lively and tenacious. Focusing on the guest's face, the woman looked directly into her eyes, and in that brief moment, Pauline noticed how wet her gaze was. It seemed as if the old lady had an allergy or she had recently been crying over some dramatic movie or TV series.

— I'm Pauline, missus... ― introducing herself, the girl stammered, not quite understanding how to address the lady.

― Oh, just Ida, darling! ― the woman responded quite cheerfully, gesturing the guests into the next room.

On the main staircase, Pauline did not notice anything that could help a woman in a wheelchair climb to the second floor. No special elevator, no platform. "Did no one in this house equip anything for her stroller for her grandmother and mother," — Sanchez thought, looking around the rich living room. — "They can obviously afford it."

— They can, ― Ida replied, as if reading the girl's mind. Passing through a couple of rooms, to an emergency staircase equipped with everything necessary for lifting a wheelchair, away from the central hall and the entrance. ― But my daughter-in-law really didn't want to spoil the view of the living room with additional add-ons. You know, these platforms are practical, but they don't look very nice, and it's important for Pamela to make a good impression right away.

Pauline remained silent, deciding to leave someone else's approach to the arrangement of living space without comment. But some unpleasant feeling towards the younger inhabitants of the house nevertheless stirred somewhere in the depths of the chest.

Although the emergency staircase was also quite wide, it was obviously intended in the distant past of this house for servants, and not for the owners. Now it was reserved for a man whose special needs could not be integrated into the idyllic and rich interior. The nagging thought, "Did they really try?" — Pauline diligently pushed it out of her mind, trying to focus on something more pleasant instead. For example, in a dialogue between two old friends who were climbing together on a wheelchair platform, discussing the latest poker game and spicy tea for Ashe, their third friend, at whose house they usually all gathered.

― Almost everything for tea has already been prepared in my office. Pauline, dear, I hope you will help two old ladies to handle the burner for the tea siphon, — Ida turned to the girl, sliding down the carpet of the corridor on the second floor.

― Do you still use this antiquity? — Pauline asked, looking around the overly perfect interior of the house. Everything here seemed unreal. Not in the sense that these were fake elements of a rich life, not at all. It was about something deeper and beyond logical reasoning or description. Unlike Ida, who was alive and smiling, with her clothes creased and her white shirt collar slightly askew, not buttoned up to the end, everything around her seemed to be part of some kind of museum exhibition: perfect, neat, placed strictly symmetrically on both sides of the corridor between the doors of the rooms.

― Oh, my dear, only after tasting tea made on a real fire will you realize that tinkering with this antiquity is worth it, — Ida's voice, despite its hoarseness and creakiness, sounded incredibly pleasant. Surely in her youth she could have become some kind of singer or actress.

― But it's so steamy and long, ― the girl sighed, already imagining how long it would take to put the leaves in a glass teapot, shaking them off before using a special spoon to get rid of small tea leaves that could seep through a sieve. How long will the tea be heated, watching as it enters the second container through a siphon, already thoroughly steamed on fire. How they will pour into cups and add thick honey instead of sugar, which will drain off the spindle for a long time.

― Cooking has its own special charm, ― Isabella jokingly nudged her granddaughter in the side. ― This is also a kind of ritual that is neglected by everyone living in this ever-hurrying world. Trust the old ladies, simplification and acceleration are not always a blessing in ordinary life, and all this fashionable fuss is doing terrible harm to our art. You know that yourself.

― I understand, ― Pauline sighed, opening the heavy oak door of Ida's office for the women and marveling at how tight it was.

"And how does this granny handle it on her own?" ― the girl thought to herself as she followed the women inside. She had already prepared herself for the fact that she would have to strain again to cope with the tight hinges, which had not been lubricated for a long time, as the door easily closed by itself before her eyes. Although there was no visible mechanism or auto door closer visible.

― Don't stand at the entrance, dear, ― Ida called Pauline over. ― She won't answer your questions.

The interior of the room was subtly different from the rest of the house. It was just as classic and austere, clean and tidy, but the traces of a living being were much more noticeable. Petals of scarlet roses fell on the table next to an obviously very expensive porcelain vase with a gilded neck. A moist light brown droplet from Ida's last cup of tea on a saucer that stood next to where the mistress of the room was sitting. The broken and battered spines of books that were read and opened most often. Small traces of the chaos of life that did not try to destroy and make the living space so sterile and ideal that it eventually lost its realism. However, with all this, there was no way to blame Ida for being untidy. Her office seemed to have materialized out of some historical English detective novel. Neat, but lively. Vintage, not dusty. Ida, with her silver hair pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck and her perfectly white shirt collar, even if it wasn't buttoned up to the end and slightly askew, seemed really in place here.

― So, ladies, what kind of business brings you to me? ― Ida adjusted the cuffs, which were slightly peeking out from under the elastic bands of the sleeves of a soft pink jumper. Her dry and sinewy hands slowly opened a tin can of tea.

― I think you heard what happened to my brother―in―law's store last night, ― Isabella began the conversation, gesturing to her granddaughter and handing her a box of matches. Pauline gingerly took hold of the rough cardboard box. She was afraid of an open fire for a number of reasons, but mostly because she had once knocked over a candle and almost set the house on fire. Fire was required for many rituals, and she tried to avoid it whenever possible, but if she had to work with it, she did everything to make it safe.

― That scream was probably heard even on the other side of the city, ― Ida looked more displeased than alarmed, shaking dried leaves in a teaspoon and pouring them into the upper container of a glass siphon. ― However, I still don't understand who made this noise. It doesn't look like a Banshee, although one might think so unknowingly. And it's too unfashionable for Serena. And the second one was more like an animal howl, I hadn't heard such a "concert" in a long time.

Pauline carefully struck a match, igniting the sulfur tip as close to the burner as possible to minimize contact with the fire. The flame of the oiled wick flared up too quickly and the girl almost dropped the still smoldering match, pulling her hand away from the flame.

― Darling, you don't have to be so nervous, ― Ida smiled. ― The fire definitely won't bite you.

Sanchez felt terribly uncomfortable. A slight heat rose in her chest as she hurriedly blew out the match, putting it on a special copper saucer, along with other used and burnt-out brethren. Slightly turning down the flame of the burner by turning a small knob, the girl involuntarily stared at the dangerous flame, which looked like a closed flower bud. It was still too early to put the burner under a vessel with water, she had to wait for her grandmothers to ask her about it. To be patient, listening to their unhurried conversation and watching Ida's dry, pigmented, pale hands slowly shake tea leaves on a miniature analogue of a slotted spoon. How very tiny leaves and tea dust fall back into the tin can.

― I won't say about the second one, I also heard it for the first time. And believe me, I've seen a lot of undead in my life. ― Pauline didn't quite understand which "second" she was talking about, but she didn't dare to get into a leisurely conversation. Slow-moving old ladies will probably get distracted by the explanation and completely lose their way, forgetting about the original topic of conversation. ― But the first one was definitely the Undead. Judging by the description from my granddaughter, he clearly did not die a natural death, and he was in someone's service for a long time, and when he was free, he raised such a howl that not a single whole showcase, window or mirror remained in his son-in-law's store.

― Poor soul, ― sighed Ida, pouring the last spoonful into the upper flask and finally putting the spoon aside, returning it to a special recess in the tea jar. ― I hope no one got hurt.

― No one, ― Isabella closed the lid of the upper vessel and motioned for Pauline to place the burner under the lower flask of water. ― Only property. My granddaughter was the one who freed this spirit from someone else's control, but we didn't expect it to make a fuss. Now she would like to know how to let go of such souls if she has to deal with something similar again, and you understand this better than me.

Ida leaned back wearily in her chair, watching as the first bubbles began to form in the warm water. Her moist eyes stared thoughtfully at the steady flame of the burner. Pauline was surprised to notice how it became a little more active due to the fact that the handle itself turned slightly, barely noticeably.

― That's an interesting question, ― the old woman finally said. ― Mourning the soul is the first thing that comes to my mind, but unfortunately no one but a real Mourner can do it. Only they can let go of a suffering soul forever. The actions of the mourners have their flaws and weaknesses, but nevertheless their tears are the most reliable way to relieve the soul of someone who is no longer able to mourn himself. There are alternative ways, but in this case the soul can return from another world again to try to complete the task that is gnawing at it so much that it does not allow it to rest.

― It's a temporary measure, too, ― Pauline said softly, with uncharacteristic modesty. ― It will be better than inaction in any case.

― The main thing is that actions should not be hasty and only make things worse, ― Isabella smiled, looking up from the vessel that began to boil. The boiling water slowly rose up the glass tube like a geyser and began to slowly pour tea leaves. The tart aroma of fresh black tea with bergamot began to spread through the office.

― I need to think a little, dear, ― Ida carefully watched the tea leaves give their color and aroma to the hot water. ― Do me a favor, for now, go to the greenhouse for fresh tea rose flowers, three buds are enough. The greenhouse occupies almost the entire third floor. You'll go up the same stairs that we came up here, and there's only one door at the top, so you won't get lost. Do you know what a tea rose looks like?

Pauline nodded silently and went to carry out the instructions of the elders. A little disappointed, she walked down the corridor to a small hidden door leading to a staircase with a ramp, dimly lit by the warm glow of sconces made in the form of old cast-iron street lamps. She wanted to be present at the conversation between the two old ladies, even if it was terribly unhurried, much more than tinkering with plants. But his upbringing did not allow him to disobey his elders and go against their polite request. At school, she could afford to be practically a different person only for the reason that not every adult there actually deserved at least a grain of the same respect that she had for her own aged grandmother and her friend.

At school, teachers did not shy away from swearing, unfair and hasty punishments for students, disrespect towards those whom they obviously considered inferior to themselves: the students. Why politely address those who only do what they themselves are rude, hiding behind a status that is completely unsupported by anything other than a banal formality? No, of course not all teachers were like that. The headmistress, for example, has always been a woman with special dignity, which can be seen in her behavior, manners, and calm but firm tone of voice. Or the biology teacher, Mr. Pibbet, who looked like a typical nerd who gets kicked around in silly teen TV shows. In reality, his students didn't even make any noise in his lessons, so as not to interrupt his clear and well-modulated voice. The somewhat overweight teacher also had something that prevented students from making fun of him as Mr. Lancer and still being a good person. Something subtly pleasant, like real gentlemen from the past, who seem to have almost completely disappeared after politeness began to be called harassment and flirtation, and help ― humiliation of honor and dignity.

The closed greenhouse was really quite easy to find. At the entrance, next to a small and well-hidden cabinet with, most likely, gardening tools, there was a pair of boots with thick soles. The glass door framed by decorative columns, copying the look of the ancient temples of Greece, caught the eye immediately. And the abundance of greenery inside gave no reason to doubt. Belatedly, Pauline thought that it would probably be worthwhile to ask Ida where exactly the tea rose grows in order to speed up the search. "Still, they're right, haste clearly gets in the way even in everyday life," the girl thought, looking around at the spacious greenhouse full of green sprawling plants, whose branches were so dense that in some places they almost completely covered the glass roof. It was incredibly stuffy and humid inside, and the girl's neck and face began to break out in sticky perspiration.

Walking a little deeper along the granite path, Pauline saw that Sam was tinkering with fresh vegetables in small beds, loosening the black earth with a garden rake. The hem of her long dark denim skirt was tucked into her belt so as not to interfere with her work, and the sleeves of her loose black T-shirt were rolled up to her shoulders. The sole of his rubber boots sank into the loose earth almost to the middle of his foot, and his face was covered with drops of sweat and tears. Judging by her red eyes and wet eyelashes, Gotessa was definitely crying, although it was completely unnoticeable from her absolutely calm and even peaceful expression.

― Pauline? ― Sam muttered in surprise, finally noticing the stranger. ― What are you doing here?

― Grandma needed to visit an old friend, ― Pauline replied somewhat evasively. ― They're making tea in Ida's office right now, and they sent me to get a tea rose. Can you tell me where it grows here?

― Of course,― Sam sighed, putting the rake aside and getting out of the garden beds to escort the guest to the right place. The greenhouse really turned out to be much bigger than Sanchez had imagined.

― Are you okay? ― Pauline decided to start from afar.

― Yes, ― Sam's voice sounded dull and despondent.

― Then why are you crying? ― Pauline watched Sam, completely unafraid of getting dirty, make his way to a small tea rose bush, motioning for her to wait on the path.

― I'm not crying, ― Sam plucked exactly three buds, obviously well aware of her own grandmother's preferences, and returned to the path, handing the delicate flowers to Sanchez. ― Not on purpose, at least, ― the swollen eyelids inflamed due to tears and the reddened tip of the nose stood out strongly on the pale face.

― Samantha! ― A loud scream on the verge of screeching rang through the greenhouse from the entrance. ― How did you get out again? You were told to sit in your room and think about your behavior! And you're digging in the dirt here again, playing gardener. If I see even a drop of dirt on the carpet after that, I'll...!

The owner of the voice turned out to be a petite woman in a neat dress. So neat that the starched collar and pressed folds of the skirt seemed unreal, and the varnished hairstyle looked like plastic. Everything about her was so neat and idealized that the woman could easily have been mistaken for some kind of robot from a retro futuristic movie. Her embittered face instantly softened, and the friendliest and most doll-like smile of all possible appeared on her lips as soon as she saw Pauline.

― Oh, I didn't know we had guests, ― the woman almost sang. Her abrupt change of behavior was a little confusing. But Sam, who was obviously used to such sudden mood swings, only sighed wearily. ― Dear, forgive my daughter for her terrible appearance. She managed to drag you into this swamp. I hope you didn't get dirty.

The way this living doll abruptly began to babble with "her" guest and very clearly hinted at how much she was not happy with her daughter's behavior and appearance suggested quite definite thoughts. The obsession with aesthetics and appearance, the desire to maintain some kind of very abstract ideal purity in spite of everything, the thirst to show herself in front of outsiders better than she really is ― apparently this is the Pamela that Ida mentioned.

― It's all right, ma'am, ― Pauline finally managed to pull herself together after the woman's sudden change of mood. ― Ida sent us to get a tea rose. She and my grandmother, Isabella, want to spend some time together, and over tea, as they say, the conversation goes better. We asked for them in exchange for help with the cooking. You know how difficult it can be for old ladies to perform simple actions, ― the young witch had no idea what she was saying, this lie was obvious to both her and Sam. But Pauline couldn't find any other way to calm down an overly anxious woman on the spot. I wanted to escape from this plastic doll, and preferably as soon as possible, taking the gothess with me, who was clearly not expecting anything good in the company of a living robot.

― Well, then I won't distract you girls, ― the lips painted with scarlet lipstick with the clearest contour continued to depict the most fake of all the fake smiles that Pauline had seen in her entire life. ― Before leaving the greenhouse, be sure to clean your shoes properly, dear, so as not to inherit. And you, Sam, take off your shoes. You are welcome. And then change into something nicer and cleaner.

― Okay, ― Sam said on an exhale, looking tiredly at her mother with eyes wet with tears, which this woman obviously didn't care at all until her daughter's shoes and clothes were clean enough.

***

― Are you sure you're okay? ― Danny watched with some apprehension as his mother, with trembling hands, opened the refrigerator and took a small can of beer from the door.

He rarely saw Maddie in the company of even mild alcohol. The last time was literally a year ago, after the parents had a big fight and in an attempt to take a break from the suffocating routine for a while, the woman went to her sister in Arkansas. Even on holidays, she didn't allow herself what she was doing right now. Perhaps Vlad was right that it was worth giving her all this information a little more carefully and carefully.

Or maybe never at all.

Opening the jar with the characteristic zilch, Maddie took several large sips, slowly sinking into a chair, propping her head on her hand. Her short red hair was tousled with restless fingers, and his overall appearance was somehow incredibly pathetic.

― I'm okay, ― Maddy took another sip of beer, straightening up and setting aside the half―finished can. ― I need to process all this. There has been too much new information over the past few hours, ― the woman motioned for her son to sit next to her instead of standing in the aisle.

Danny felt his heart thudding, echoing in his head, but instead of the expected fear, he felt more like shame, which burned not only the tips of his ears, but his entire face. The sudden rush of blood seemed to raise his temperature, which the Ghost did not even try to bring down, as he usually did, although the tips of his fingers were incredibly cold, which made the nails with dark roots turn blue, becoming even more cadaverous.

― I should worry about you more, ― slightly shaking fingers touched the teenager's forehead, pushing his short bangs back. ― You're all red.

― It's nothing, ― Danny waved off, unconsciously starting to twist the loose thread of the bandage on his arm between his fingers.

― And how I didn't pay attention before, ― Maddy intercepted his hand, examining the cold bluish nails, pale skin with bluish veins on the wrist. ― When I was younger, I came across a Chinese superstition that a supernatural being can be distinguished from an ordinary person by inflamed cuticles or black nails, ― she gently released her son's hand and lightly smoothed his unruly black hair. ― Who would have thought that it would be true.

The teenager did not quite understand how to react to such a statement. He had expected something completely different from this conversation. I didn't fully understand what exactly, but certainly not the stories about Chinese superstitions. Not an open can of beer and not such a calm, broken tone of voice.

― I've often imagined lately how this conversation might go, ― Danny confessed, without looking up at his mother. He focused all his attention on the already badly stained, broken thread of the bandage, which had long since lost its sterile white color. ― I imagined how you and your father would fuss and rush to collect samples, trying to figure out what I am. That you put me under surveillance and put a ton of equipment and sensors on me. And the first thing you did was reach for the fridge for a beer.

― You have a very rich imagination, dear. ― Maddie put her arm around her son's shoulders, pulling him to her and leaving a short kiss on the top of his head. ― Tell me..Does anyone else know? ― She asked the question haltingly and without unnecessary elaboration.

― Well..., ― the teenager hesitated slightly, not knowing what to expect anymore. Without imagining the further reaction of the person whom, as it seemed to him, he managed to study down to the smallest detail, knowing by heart how her steps sounded, which he could distinguish from hundreds of others. But just five minutes ago, everything he seemed to know about his mother literally crumbled. Disintegrated into atoms.

― Danny, I'm not going to swear or anything, ― Maddie interrupted the long silence. ― I just want to have a more complete picture of what is happening.

He slowly raised his gaze, looking into his mother's eyes. They've always had a very unusual color. Most of the time, the iris seemed to be a deep purple, like some kind of gemstone. Maddy waited for him to respond. Honest and direct. But not expecting this from himself, the first thing he did was not mention the names of his best friends, nor did he indicate the members of the club he was a member of.

― Uncle Vlad, ― he blurted out at the edge of hearing.

― I can't believe it, ― Maddie squeezed the bridge of her nose with her free hand in a tired gesture, closing her eyes, as she usually did when studying small details for too long or after staring into a microscope for a long time. ― He can't disclose the details for legal reasons, ― she said through gritted teeth, obviously partially quoting part of what Vlad had told her.

― I asked him not to tell you, ― Danny began to justify himself, not really understanding why.

― Were you afraid of my reaction with my father? ― Maddy sounded so sad that the teenager himself felt this bitterness on the tip of his tongue.

― Dad's more, ― the guy knew out of the corner of his mind that he probably should have shut up, but the words poured out of his mouth by themselves. ― When he found out that I had been sleepwalking as a child, he began to exorcise demons from me. And if he found out about it... ― Frost glistened on the tips of the guy's nails.

― You don't have to worry about that, ― the woman hugged her son's shoulders tighter again. ― No one is going to experiment on anyone, dear. I promise.

***

No one else came into the room for quite a long time. Time passed endlessly slowly in this silence, and every ten minutes felt literally like one hour had passed. Jack tried to fill that time with sleep, but he couldn't doze off forever. He tried to get up and at least stretch a little, but my head was terribly dizzy from the height change. Apparently, the vestibular apparatus suffered as much as the hearing due to these damned ghosts. Moreover, his wife and children were apparently not allowed to see him for some unknown reason.

"I hope they're at least okay," ― Jack thought in his head, replaying over and over the terrifying scream of the monster that had taken the form of a teenage boy. The man remembered well that he had hit one of those who pretended to be children. Just as well as the fact that there was an adult monster with these two green unclean. And it could only mean one thing ― these creatures were breeding somewhere in the Amiti Park, right under his nose they built their vile nest to breed their own kind. There was simply no other option, because they couldn't have gotten to them through a ghost portal, bypassing all their sensors and security system without being noticed.

His back and buttocks were already starting to hurt from constantly lying in bed in one position. One situation became completely unbearable at some point, and when Jack thought that he still had to spend a couple of days in this terrifying locked room in complete ignorance of the fate of his family, the lock on the door to the ward clicked open. Two policemen entered, introducing themselves as Officer Kadmi and Officer Stevens. Jack remembered the first one especially well because of the completely covered head. They said they wanted to ask a few questions.

― Jack Fenton is always at your service, ― the man cheerfully blurted out, to which the cops reacted with some strange glances among themselves.

― You don't even want to call a lawyer? ― Stevens asked, reaching for the notebook and pen he kept in the inside pocket of his windbreaker. ― The city can provide you with a lawyer to protect your rights if you don't have a family lawyer you know.

― Why? I didn't do anything illegal, ― Jack replied with a big smile and probably louder than he should have. It's a pity that with only one fully functioning ear, it was difficult to assess the volume of your own voice.

The policemen looked at each other strangely again. It seemed as if Jack's behavior did not fit at all, not only into their plans and assumptions, but into all previous experience in general. They were literally playing peek-a-boo with each other, using some kind of conditional signals from their partners instead of words, which somewhat puzzled Jack, who was already poorly thinking after the attack of the ghost.

― I told you, he's weird, ― Kadmi said at the edge of hearing, leaning close to her partner's ear. Jack might not have heard her words, but he was quite capable of understanding what she was saying by the movement of her lips.

― Tell me, Mr. Fenton, do you understand why my partner and I came to you? ― Stevens decided to clarify, flipping through a couple of pages of a notebook and starting to make some notes. ― Do you remember well what happened last night and what brought you here?

― Of course! ― the man answered cheerfully, rising on his elbows to settle higher on the pillows. ― Last night, my wife and I encountered a manifestation of an anomaly. One of the ones I've been studying for over twenty years. I call them all "ghosts" for simplicity, but they can be very diverse in their properties and manifestations. Last night I managed to neutralize one of these anomalies, but then something happened that is difficult for me to describe at the moment, I did not refer to the readings of the equipment.

The police listened to his somewhat confused story with obvious skepticism, periodically exchanging glances with each other. At some point, Stevens even stopped taking notes. A simple ballpoint pen froze over the lined pages of the notebook, without making a single stroke. The police just stared at him, it seems that at some point they even stopped moving.

― I warned you, ― Kadmi turned away from her partner, who turned his questioning gaze on her. ― Request a psychiatric evaluation and stop looking at me like that.

― I don't need a shrink, ― Jack protested. ― I'm quite healthy!

Such hints from the representatives of the law were something out of the ordinary. The terrible display of incompetence almost robbed Jack of his composure, and only years of experience dealing with such structures did not allow him to be seriously offended. They probably have a protocol that they follow in normal situations, but this was something completely out of the ordinary. Just like last year during Halloween, when he was stopped by officers after he accidentally hit Vlad. Everything worked out that time, they agreed that it was a common misunderstanding, but for some reason they decided that the foam gun was not a weapon, but part of a festive costume. However, it was still a holiday then, and the officers were already running off their feet, catching minor hooligans and drunkards all night.

But it's not Halloween right now.

―Tell me, Mr. Fenton, do you really think that exactly what you described happened last night? ― Officer Kadmi clarified, ― You claim that you 'neutralized a ghost' last night. Is right?

― Yes, absolutely! ― Jack answered without hesitation, looking at Kadmi handing his partner something that looked like a medical record.

―That's weird, ― Stevens muttered. ― According to the tests, everything is clear. Although it would seem...

― The doctors didn't find anything, of course, ― Jack sat up straight in bed, his back no longer touching the pillows at all. This sudden movement made his head spin slightly, but the man practically did not pay any attention to such a trifle. ― Traces of otherworldly activity are not so easy to notice. But, I can help with that. My wife and I have been doing this for quite a long time, and last year we literally had a breakthrough. Maybe you read the article in the Lancet...

― I think that's enough paranormal stories for today,― Officer Kadmi interrupted him. ― I've had enough of these fairy tales.

― Ashe, ― Stevens put his hand on his partner's shoulder, as if trying to restrain or restrain her with this gesture. The woman was somehow too nervous and because of this seemed terribly unprofessional to Jack.

― Read him his rights, Stevens, ― the woman stared at Jack. Dark eyes, wide, low-set eyebrows and a large nose with a very noticeable bump made her face stern and almost deprived of femininity in the usual sense for men. She rubbed her eyes tiredly before continuing. ― Let's file charges and get this circus over with for today.

Jack listened, but he didn't understand why these people were saying all these things. The formal part of reading out the rights was not particularly postponed in my head. He already knew his rights and was sure that he would not allow them to be violated either by officers or dirty ghosts.

― You are charged with attempted murder of a minor, grievous bodily harm to a minor, and carrying an unlicensed weapon, ― Jack couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could he be accused of something like that?! Okay, weapons, he admits that, but everything else... He was sure that he had fallen into an undead that wasn't human last night. Into a ghost, a manifestation of the otherworldly, an inhabitant of the Ghost Zone, into the fact that a person can only pretend to be, but not be, simply because the manifestations of all human beings are alien to these creatures.

― There's some mistake here, ― the man muttered, looking at the serious uniformed officers.

― No mistake, Mr. Fenton, ― Stevens shook his head slightly. ― From this day on, you are under arrest. I advise you to contact a lawyer anyway.

After the departure of the representatives of the law, Jack was once again left alone in the company of only his own hectic thoughts. The hands of the wall clock were ticking deafeningly loudly, and apart from them, not a single sound could be heard.

― This can't be happening, ― Jack put his head in his hands, ― It can't be happening. This is a mistake.

***

The thin thread almost became completely entangled when Charlotte pulled on the free end too hard, not noticing another loop in the semi-darkness of her dungeon. Sighing noisily, she began to untie the knot that had almost completely tightened, with fingers roughened from constant work. The thin thread kept trying to get under the broken tip of the thumbnail and either break itself or break the unfortunate nail, which had already suffered enough.

When the noose was finished, the demoness stretched tiredly, stretching her back and massaging her neck, which was stiff from excessive tension and concentration.

Voices could be heard outside, muffled by the walls of the cell. Charlotte settled herself comfortably on the floor among the ready-made skeins of soft yarn and closed her eyes to look at the outside world through the eyes of one of the faithful spiders. The awakened animal cautiously poked its head out of its cocoon hole, which was located directly under a tightly sealed dungeon vessel.

At first glance, nothing remarkable was happening outside. The Fenton boy was going somewhere, lazily stuffing the necessary things into his pockets. He looked beaten up and not very lively as in the morning, but the same gloomy energy did not radiate from him. There was no destructive anger, no bitter despair. At the moment, he just seemed very, very tired, but relatively calm.

The boy spent some time getting ready, exchanging words with his sister, who at first, as a little girl, refused to leave her room, contrary to the words of her mother and brother. And when the red-haired princess was finally lured out of the den, all the remaining family members left the house. A small spider leaked through the glass of the terrarium and saw them get into the car and drive away, finally disappearing from the insect's field of vision. But Charlotte was in no hurry to recall the spider. A vague, strange premonition tormented her, but she could not find the source of the vague alarm until she heard a soft metallic sound.

It was a new thermos flask, similar to the one in which Charlotte herself was locked, but with one very significant difference: its lid was not welded and now, with every knock on the table surface, it slowly turned away. Whoever was trapped inside turned out to be extremely persistent in his desire to get out.

The lid of the thermos continued to slowly unscrew, millimeter by millimeter, until finally, after another impact of the bottom on the table, it fell to the floor with a ringing thud. Spidey watched from the windowsill as a ghost in a red dress materialized in the teenager's room from a cloud of red mist that escaped from a vessel. The creature looked disgusting, rope marks on his wrists, dark blue, almost black, swollen veins on his neck and face. The black eyes scanned the unfamiliar room without any interest before the creature went to the window and disappeared into thin air, going through the glass. This creature was clearly not going to wait for Danny, preferring to take the initiative to organize a meeting with him.

"This is bad",― Charlotte sighed, continuing to look at the landscape outside the window of the ghost boy's room through the eyes of a spider, remembering what variations of the future she saw, twisting a thin thread on a Norn spindle. ― "But maybe there's a benefit for me in this situation."

***

The woman behind the transparent airtight glass looked much better than yesterday. Having received a set of more or less decent clothes from trouser pajamas, food and rest, Lydia settled down in the space allocated to her with the maximum comfort available at the moment. After sleeping, she carefully made the bed again, helped those who were in a much more serious condition to get comfortable in their seats. Masters also caught her doing stretching exercises, which she was doing right on the floor of the ward.

― You really seem to feel much better, ― Vlad remarked, approaching the thin transparent partition.

― I feel better, ― Lydia replied shortly, rolling up the right sleeve of her pajamas and exposing her forearm with a pair of inflamed greenish ulcers that were still closed. She might not know the language well, but she was quite capable of making it clear with such nonverbal signals that she most likely considered feeling good to be a temporary phenomenon. ― The food was good.

― I'm glad to hear that, ― Masters carefully watched as Lydia cheerfully got up from her stretcher to her feet and moved closer to the partition, presumably so as not to disturb the others in the room. ― You wanted to tell me something.

The woman's eyes lit up with a bright scarlet light. She completely opened her mind to Masters, showing him a rather non-trivial thought image. A pale, familiar woman in a horned escoffion, but lying in a crystal coffin. There was a gaping wound in her chest, which she covered with her arms crossed according to the old funeral tradition. In a pile of broken bones, meat, and black blood, there was a round ball with a scarlet vortex inside. The one who decorated the cane of the master of ceremonies of the Gothic circus. Even the forged bat was still visible in the black blood clots.

The image was obviously not random. Lydia clearly understood what she wanted to show and what to focus his attention on, for some reason being confident that it was Masters who would be able to solve this peculiar riddle. But the man was in no hurry to make assumptions, carefully analyzing what he saw. For some reason unknown to him, the woman preferred fairy-tale images for her explanations. But not the harmless modern fairy tales that are read to children. No.

In the entire composition shown, it was the crystal ball in the split chest of the deceased that attracted the most attention. The scarlet vortex shone so brightly in the glass and this picture was so spectacular.

― Did you understand anything? ― the assistant clarified in a whisper. But Vlad motioned for her to stay out. The girl immediately bit her tongue and took a step back. Even without seeing Lee, Vlad could tell that she was clutching the patients' medical records tighter.

― Why is the artifact in this woman's chest? ― Masters tried to formulate his thoughts more simply so that the foreigner could understand him.

― This is the heart, ― Lydia pointed to the center of her own chest, covering her solar plexus with her palm. ― The ghost's heart.

Vlad had an idea. Lydia tried to say with similar mental images that the artifact used by frick contained a ghostly core ― the basis of most otherworldly creatures, the center of their power and a repository of memories. Tiny glowing balls of energy, which in ancient times were called "Will-o'-the-Wisps", which overgrown with an ectoplasmic body over time and received new life instead of the lost one. Vampires, on the other hand, do not become ghosts after death, but simply disappear into oblivion, dissolving into eternity, leaving behind nothing but flesh and bones, which in themselves are also not eternal. Vlad had never heard of vampires possessing such a quality in his entire life. A sign of so much vivid individuality that would simply prevent them from living in hives and having a collective consciousness. People like him differ in that they do not have such an element, which could be called a "soul", albeit with a big stretch. There is no time at the moment. But if he continue to develop this idea, then the woman in the shown mental image of Lydia was obviously from another era. At least five hundred years have passed since her repose, if not more, judging by her dress and headdress. She probably managed to personally catch the times of the great European plague.

― What's in her crystal ball right now? ― Vlad drowned out, concentrating his attention in Lydia's image on the woman's face: white, thin, devoid of eyebrows, and at the same time beautiful in its own way. ― Is this her core?

Lydia nodded slowly several times in response, without taking her burning red eyes off Masters. The light pouring through the eyeballs was so bright that it illuminated the structure of the facial bones of the skull and the cartilage of the nose of the woman from the inside.

― But vampires don't have a core of power, ― Lee interjected again. Her voice was quiet, but quite distinguishable to Masters' delicate ears. She said what was on his mind.

― The servants don't have, ― The bright flame in Lydia's skull illuminated even her throat. Scarlet rays seeped out every time she opened her mouth. She slowly raised her hand, pointing her finger at Masters. ― But you have.

This woman was giving out strange information that went against all currently known data. But she spoke confidently. Her mental images were clear and full of detail, and it was impossible to achieve this if her mind was in turmoil or if she was delirious, having lost her mind from a long captivity in the clutches of a psychopath.

However, the more interesting question was something else.

Lydia looked to be no more than forty, maybe forty-five, but such a visual old age would rather intuitively be attributed to the terrible living conditions for many years. But the deliberately aged image of a woman in a crystal coffin led Vlad to some counter-intuitive thoughts. Some people like to associate the first and bloodiest version of the fairy-tale Snow White with bloodsuckers. Perhaps Lydia chose him as the most vivid association with the creatures that vampires are stereotypically represented in the mass consciousness. But what if we assume that this is not just a fabulous image and metaphor? What if such a detailed and clear portrait is not what it seems at first glance?

― Lydia, how did you end up in the circus? ― Mastrers didn't want to ask risky questions directly. I'm just not used to doing this, coming from afar every time.

― I'm from his mother, ― the blurred answer in broken English was difficult to understand without any clarifications. ― Before that, from his father. Before that, from my grandfather. Before that, from his father.

― Were you inherited along with the artifact? ― Masters clarified, feeling a slight chill creep under the white collar of his shirt, after Lydia's confident nod. ― How old are you?

The scarlet fire in the woman's eyes subsided. She was silent for a long time, thoughtfully, as if trying to calculate. She looked down at her hands, bending her fingers one at a time on each hand, and then unbending them. She stopped at about thirty and thought for a long time. Either she couldn't remember the exact number of years, or she didn't know which number went next or how to say it in English.

Or maybe she wasn't counting the years at all, but the number of her own "owners"?

― Lydia? ― Vlad cautiously called out to the woman, pulling her out of her thoughts, which were obviously too hard for her in every sense of the word.

The woman's eyes lit up again. Looking up at Masters, she reopened her mind completely, literally trying to drag the man into the depths of her memories by force. Whatever was in her head, whatever memories she kept there, Lydia considered them incredibly important. Which, for some unfathomable reason, she only wanted to entrust to him.

***

Her skin is as white as the first snow. The lips are red like drops of blood. Her mistress was an incredible beauty, and the birth of her first child had tired her out, but it seemed to make her even more beautiful. The thin skin with streaks of bluish veins seemed to glow from within when the mistress took the child in her arms, looking at him with some kind of inexpressible longing.

― You know, Lydia, ― she began softly, while the maid carefully cleaned the baby's cradle from dust. ― I think this man will soon find a way to get rid of me.

― What are you saying, my lady? ― Lydia almost dropped the white feather bed from her hands at such a statement. ― Your husband would never do anything wrong to you.

In response, the woman laughed, and the sound was like the trill of a small bird. Long, sharp fangs flashed between her beautiful red lips for just a moment. She stroked the pale, almost bluish cheeks of the baby, who, gaily agitating, bit her finger with sharp teeth, licking off drops of blood.

― You know that's a lie. He sees a demon in me, and a freak of that demon in my son. The saddest thing is that he is right, but no matter how many bastards he personally has, I will still be more guilty of this sin, ― the woman wearily sank into a chair, continuing to rock the child in her arms. ― I wouldn't have had the strength to maintain the illusion of my own normalcy in his head anyway. Besides, I'm surrounded not only by him and the people at court, but by the whole kingdom. I can build illusions. I can play on people, but this lie has lasted so long, acquired so many add-ons that it is about to collapse under its own weight.

The oppressive silence was interrupted only by the groaning of a child. Both women understood that nothing could end well for someone like their mistress. Already, most of the court began to whisper that Her Highness was a witch, since she hadn't aged for so long. She was able to carry it once, having already changed my fifth decade. And the favorites and the maids had been whispering behind her back for a long time, they still could not come to terms with the departure of their own beauty. Everyone around her began to say that the comfortable, familiar life for the baroness was coming to an end. Lydia must have been the only one who didn't dislike her mistress, having been by her side since childhood.

― Mistress... ― Lydia hugged the feather bed tighter, trying to muffle the unnecessarily loud beating of her own heart and not disturb the already sensitive ears of the hostess. ― Is there anything I can help you with?

The woman sighed softly, looking at her child's face as if for the last time. Obeying a barely noticeable gesture from her slender fingers with long and neat nails, a gold jewelry box rose from a small dressing table without a mirror and fell directly into Lydia's hands, who dropped the burden in surprise. After laying the child on her lap, the woman made a small incision on her wrist with a sharp claw.

― Please come here, ― she asked politely, holding out her injured hand to the maid. ― I want to invite you to become a part of my family. Not a titled man, but a member of the hive. By drinking my blood, you'll be one of the few people I could trust with my child if anything happened to me. I don't promise you eternal life, it won't happen away from me. But I can give you the power to protect him and yourself. The jewelry in the casket should be enough for the clan members to buy a place for themselves on the ship that is now waiting in the port. To escape before the hunter arrives.

― What about you? ― Lydia suddenly felt like a jeweled box was pulling her towards the ground with its weight.

― I'm afraid it will be more difficult to escape from me, ― the mistress smiled the same as always, as if she was talking about the weather or what she wanted for tea, and not about her own possible death. ― Besides, I can't say exactly what's on my husband's mind. He's not my man anymore.

Lydia took her mistress's fragile wrist in her palm. It seemed like a crime to damage such beautiful skin, especially with my own hands. The hand felt incredibly hot, as if the mistress's body was constantly burning from the inside, fueled by a small sun somewhere in the depths of her soul. She stared at the ink-black blood on the lady's wrist, thinking back to the first day they met. When she herself was a little girl, thrown out in the churchyard along with those who died of the infection. She was considered dead, but already in the wasteland, the remnants of her strength returned to her for a short time, allowing her not to end her life under a mountain of decaying dead. To see the sky for the last time. Take a deep breath.

It was the first time she had seen the lady there, in the churchyard. When it was already deep into the night, and the stars were burning in the sky. Then she seemed like an angel to her. The horned prophet of the Lord, who promised her healing. Since then, she followed her mistress, learning herbalism, literature, mathematics, and etiquette from her as hard as she could.

Touching her mistress's wrist with her lips, she took the first bitter sip of her mistress's black blood, cutting off her loyalty for the rest of her days. Not knowing yet that he would never find the strength to leave her.

***

Vlad came back to reality abruptly, as if with a jolt. Behind the thin transparent wall, Lydia was on one knee, her head bowed low. If everything he saw in that woman's head was true, then it meant that he was now standing in front of a being who had actually survived more than five centuries. A being who once swore allegiance to his mistress and her clan.

Who was now kneeling before him.

― Mister Masters? ― Lee gently touched his shoulder. There was anxiety in her feelings and a complete lack of understanding of what had just happened and was happening.

― It's okay. Please, Lydia, stand up. ― the woman obediently got to her feet, at Vlad's request. Her eyes no longer glowed scarlet from within, only a thin trickle of black blood flowed from her nose from overexertion. ― A doctor will come to you now and examine you. You're overworked.

In response to his words, the woman nodded slightly and returned to what she had been doing before the arrival of Masters: she sank down next to her bed on the floor and continued stretching. It was as if nothing had happened. It was as if she hadn't shown him anything unusual right now.

― Lee, the plan for studying the artifact needs to be radically changed, ― Vlad adjusted his glasses, which had slid down again under the weight of the lenses closer to the tip of his nose. There was another important detail in Lydia's memory that was now firmly embedded in Masters' mind. The image of a horned healer at a medieval churchyard, whose core of power was imprisoned in glass. ― And preferably as soon as possible.

***

They left him in the interrogation room with a completely tasteless-looking lunch of salad, a couple of sandwiches, thin soup and a paper cup of coffee without milk. An incredible abomination compared to what he used to eat normally. Frederick sipped his coffee without interest, glancing from time to time at the one-way window that occupied the entire wall of the room and had the appearance of a giant mirror on his side of the wall.

The devil knows why they put him here instead of transferring him to a cell, but he wasn't particularly interested in it. From time to time, the man scolded Liu, who had not returned from the mission. It was as if the useless boy had run away, even though it was completely impossible. Such loyal dogs like him do not run away and do not betray their owners. He was sure that he had trained the boy well enough so that he would not have a single personal thought. Not a single spark of will.

"White hair and glowing green eyes. If it wasn't for that freak, I wouldn't be here," ― Frederick muttered to himself, casually blurring the white makeup on his cheeks. His appearance now left much to be desired, but he was in no hurry to completely wash off his makeup, citing a violation of the right to look as he pleased. ― "The cops think they can dress me up in an orange robe. Make him the same as everyone else," ― the Freak finished the outrageously bitter and strong coffee in one big gulp. ― "Damn it, they can do it!".

His thoughts kept returning to the blond monster who had knocked on his dressing room window late at night. Who could have known that because of this creature, he would not only lose the artifact and the troupe, but also end up in jail. The undead couldn't have been more than sixteen years old. A skinny and puny kid in a black jumpsuit that looked more like a sack on his angular body. A gray, unremarkable mouse not only resisted his will, but also attacked him.

"The local animals allow themselves too much," ― Frederick halfheartedly stirred the cooled soup with a plastic spoon. ― "They imagined themselves to be equal to people. They attack those who are higher in the hierarchy."

Frick reluctantly scooped up the soup and, holding his breath, brought this abomination to his mouth when out of the corner of his eye he noticed a blurred figure in red in the reflection of the one-way window.

― Finally back! ― Frederick exclaimed, turning towards the boy in the red dress. ― I already thought that you had abandoned me, my little one. Now, be a good little dog and get me out of here, Liu.

***

There was a commotion at the main police station of the Amity Park, which was atypical for a quiet and sleepy coastal town, almost completely separated from the rest of the country by a chain of low mountains. They have already managed to get out of the habit of emergency situations here. The high-profile crimes ended with the departure of the last gang of gangsters, who killed each other by staging a shootout in the oldest hotel in the city sometime in the middle of the last century. Local departments became havens for seasoned lawmen who were tired and often begged to be transferred to quieter and quieter places. Even though the Amity Park cops were known among the neighboring towns as representatives of the old school, they had a special love for bureaucracy and digging down to commas in any minor speeding ticket, they were still mentally unprepared for work of this magnitude.

― Lord, it's only three o'clock, and I'm already falling off my feet, ― Stevens complained, wearily plopping down at the table and mercilessly rubbing his eyes. Yawning, he didn't even try to cover his mouth. Tears stood out on his pale eyelashes.

― Maybe because you and I haven't slept with this commotion since the night patrol? ― Kadmi was pouring water into an old coffee machine to make herself and her partner one drink each. To cheer up one last time, to fill out the paperwork as carefully as possible and finally finish this monstrously long shift.

― Or is it because we've been shuttling almost the entire city in the last few hours? ― Stevens dropped his head on the table.

― Hey, don't you dare to sleep here! ― Kadmi shoved him in the shoulder, setting a cup of coffee right in front of her partner. The ridiculous mug with a crooked pattern that his daughter made for him on father's day was his favorite. Everyone in the precinct could tell who she belonged to by those scribbles. ― We still have things to finish.

― Thank you for not talking to the detainee all this time, ― said a man who entered the dining room, accompanied by a man in a formal suit who introduced himself as Owens.

― Is everything that bad? ― Kadmi clarified, picking up a cup of coffee for herself, setting the maximum strength on the machine.

― Your suspect even annoyed me, even though I'm kind of his lawyer and I have no right to say that about my future clients, ― the man loosened his tie slightly and unbuttoned his shirt collar. ― At first, according to your colleagues, he refused to talk without a lawyer, and as soon as I appeared in the interrogation room, he started attacking me with some strange claims, saying that, ― the gray mouse would not be able to defend him. ― He refused to talk to the officers or to me one-on-one. And at the end of this long and most meaningless conversation in my life, I demanded lunch and left him alone, ― Owens took a small thermos out of his briefcase and poured himself tea, sitting down at the table and staring blankly in front of him.

― You can still refuse to work with him, but we can't do that, ― Stevens grinned, taking a sip of hot coffee and closing his eyes with pleasure. ― Relax. He's probably just in denial right now. Give him a day to get used to his new position, sit down, and think about how he got into this position while we're working. He might even cooperate with the investigation.

― You're too optimistic, Joe, ― Kadmi grinned, sipping her cup of coffee and ushering another colleague to the machine. ― There are victims from different countries in the hospital. In order to take the testimony fully, we need to find an interpreter who knows Romanian, German and Polish. The feds will come to us soon, we will need to work with embassies, and if the journalists make too much fuss, then also with the public, which can behave very unpredictably. Do you remember what happened last Halloween?

― Don't remind me. I don't want to hear anything more about Fenton today. Especially from you, ― Stevens rolled his eyes to the restrained laughter of his colleagues. ― I've already heard enough while we were driving away from him.

For a while there was silence in the kitchen of the police station, broken only by the noise of commotion behind the closed door. Under the wall-mounted TV, which was showing the weather forecast for the evening, there was another one, divided into four sections, each of which had a view of several interrogation rooms. The old management measure was aimed at ensuring that even during a snack, police officers had the opportunity to monitor detainees and come to the aid of colleagues if they did something. No one openly objected, although many people were upset that even during lunch they could no longer be distracted from work.

― Is that my ward? ― Owens asked, glancing at the camera images. ― On the third.

― That's the one, ― confirmed the officer with whom Owens was trying to talk to the detained freak from Circus Gothic. ― What's he doing?

The police drew attention to the third camera, which showed a man in a gloomy smudged makeup. He got up from the table, casually pushing the almost untouched lunch tray away from him and headed to an empty corner of the room. Judging by the movements of his red, pomaded lips, he seemed to be talking to someone, although there was obviously no one else in the room besides him. He was talking to an invisible interlocutor, sometimes blowing kisses, sometimes beckoning as one usually calls a dog.

There was a ripple of static in the image as Frederick jerked his head back. It was as if he had been slapped in the face. Taking a couple of steps back, the man bumped into the table, knocking over a bowl of soup. He was pinching his nose, as if he had really been injured. He acted incredibly believable.

The police did not even have time to understand what was happening when even more ripples passed across the screen, and the detainee, turning sharply, hit his head on the tabletop with all his might. So the thick wooden surface cracked, knocking over all the remaining food on the tray.

― He's mutilating himself! ― Kadmi exclaimed, taking off with her partners and the lawyer. Rushing to the interrogation room, where another weirdo decided to play the victim of violent cops, injuring himself.

The lock on the door to the interrogation room was opened immediately, but for some reason the door wouldn't budge. It was as if she was being held from the inside or propped up with something. Muffled screams and the sound of crashing furniture could be heard from inside. It looked like the prisoner got into a rage and decided to have a good time at the last, knowing full well what was waiting for him. He gave his last performance. Quite a few police officers had already run to the noise, who had already seen a lot of such artists in their service, and understood that the matter might not be limited to self-harm alone.

When the door was finally kicked down, the noise in the room abruptly subsided. Frederick was lying in a corner, trying to hold the bleeding wound on his neck. Thick trickles of dark blood flowed from his broken nose, smearing the makeup on his face completely. His clothes were torn and smeared with leftover food. The one-way window was broken, and one particularly large bloody fragment lay next to the man. No one really doubted that on this piece of glass there would be prints of the artist of the burnt circus.

― Fuck... Need ambulance! We have a suicide attempt! ― Stevens shouted, grabbing the handkerchief his partner held out and began to pinch the wound of the arrested freak.

For sure, the doctors will do everything possible on their part to ensure that this man survives and is brought to justice, but, frankly, with such an injury, even Frick's chance of surviving until tomorrow morning was not very great. He had obviously overdone his portrayal of the victim. Or maybe he really decided to end it like this, just giving the cops and lawyers a little more work to do.

***

The legend of the mourners has been retold in detail, and thanks for that. After the conversation turned to a certain "second cry," the dialogue completely went aside and for some reason turned into a kind of "Dialogues about Nature," during which wolves, deer, bears, and some mythical wolfmen were discussed, and at some point both girls completely they stopped catching at least something understandable in it. For this obvious reason, two old friends decided to save the youth from "boring" gatherings by sending them to spend time together and, as Ida put it, "Learn something new."

― I can't believe someone like you is into the occult, ― Sam said, somewhat lazily brushing the remnants of earth from under her fingernails, which had clogged there during gardening.

― Who exactly is "like me"? ― Pauline clarified, looking with interest at the gloomy interior of the gotessa's room, posters of punk rock bands, among which there was one obviously too vintage in a frame under glass, which showed a girl with blue hair arranged in a mohawk in the form of flames.

―You know, ― Sam threw the nail file back onto the dressing table with a too―sharp movement, which caused it to bounce off the countertop and land on the floor next to the trash can, which gothic girl didn't even notice. ― You are the local beauty queen, and the most normal of all normal people. A stereotypical girl who likes stereotypically girly things. Magic and the otherworldly were clearly not among your interests. Tarot cards and horoscopes are the ceiling for people like you.

― Looks can be deceiving, ― Pauline chuckled slightly, coming closer to Sam and picking up a fallen nail file from the floor to slightly adjust the shape of one of her nails. ― Isn't that what you told your boyfriend when he decided to ask me to the dance last year? ― looking at the gotessa's surprised face, Pauline rolled her eyes. ― Don't do this pantomime right now. You often say something like that. You might think this is your favorite saying, but you're using it completely wrong.

There was a soft knock outside the window with the black curtains drawn. Pauline calmly put her nail file on the table in front of Sam and went to pull down the curtains. The knock was familiar to her, and she already knew who she would see behind the glass. Two magpies were scurrying around on the ledge outside and chattered excitedly when they saw their mistress.

― Do you mind if I let my friends in? ― Sanchez asked, looking back at her classmate. ― Or does your mother hate animals in the house as much as dirt?

― I don't mind, ― Sam replied, sounding particularly flat.

Pauline opened the window, allowing the fussy magpies to sit on her hands. The birds quickly climbed onto her shoulders, clutching the fabric of her pink tank top with their sharp claws and snuggling as close to her neck as possible. They kept looking around, as if they were looking for something in a new room. Although, it was more likely that they were just considering a new room for themselves. They look for interesting places and things.

― How was your visit to the circus yesterday? ― Sanchez asked, returning to the vintage poster of the blue―haired singer, taking a closer look at the already barely noticeable performance program. The list of songs seemed completely unfamiliar, as did the name of the singer and the name of the band. She was probably one of those whose work was not interesting to anyone and eventually got lost in the information noise.

― Nothing worthwhile, ― muttered Gotessa, plopping down on the bed. ― Did you know that the circus owner was arrested this morning?

― I heard something like that, but I wasn't interested in the details, ― Pauline scratched the head of one of the forty, turning away from the old poster.

― You're lying, ― Sam snorted, casually brushing the last of the dirt off the hem of her skirt.

― Only partially, ― Pauline replied evasively, sitting down on the bed next to ghot. Curious magpies turned their little eyes to the girl, examining her shiny rivets on bracelets. It would be worth asking why exactly in this form she went to dig in the ground, if only for the sake of having an excuse to continue the conversation. But in fact, someone else's appearance is just an interesting five―minute gossip, which in fact no one will care about after five minutes.

― They're cute, ― Sam gently scratched the magpie closest to her under the beak, which caused the bird to shut its eyes in satisfaction, stretching its neck forward. ― What are their names?

― This is a Button, ― Pauline introduced the first magpie, who was now fawning over the goth, ― And this is a Pin, ― she said, taking the bird off her other shoulder and bringing it closer to her classmate for acquaintance. ― I prefer to call them my friends, although Grandma says that they should be called fernals and not "reinvent the wheel". To everyone else, they're probably just my pets, even though that's not entirely correct.

― I had a friend like that once, ― Sam said, not taking her eyes off the magpie, who was loudly pecking at the rivets on her bracelet, examining a new toy. ― A little spider.

From the context, it wasn't hard to guess what had happened to this very spider. Such animals usually do not have a long life span, and given the character of Mrs. Manson, a wild fanatic of cleanliness and an opponent of everything unpresentable, perhaps the insect's life was greatly artificially shortened. Tears welled up in Gotessa's already inflamed eyes, although her lips were still smiling quite sincerely.

― If you don't like talking about it, we can change the subject, ― Pauline suggested, putting her hand on her classmate's shoulder. One of the earrings with a black stone swung and poured heat on Pauline's neck.

― Don't like? ― Sam looked genuinely surprised, even though tears were already starting to roll down her cheeks. ― What makes you think that?

― You're crying, ― Sanchez said after a pause, touching her red―hot earring with her fingers and looking around the room, while Manson jumped out of bed and clung to the mirror, hastily wiping tears from her face.

― I'm sorry, ― she muttered, trying unsuccessfully to get rid of the moisture on her eyelashes. ― I don't understand what's been happening to me lately.

The magpies flapped their wings restlessly, fussing around Pauline. They hissed into the void, imitating snakes, as if trying to scare away an invisible predator. They spread their wings wide and ruffled their feathers, instinctively making their rather small bodies visually larger. But the young witch couldn't say exactly what exactly they were reacting to.

― What's the matter with them? ― Sam asked, still crying. It seemed like the tears were really pouring out of her eyes against her will more and more.

― I don't...

Pauline didn't have time to finish her sentence. She was knocked off the bed by a sharp blow, which caused the cheerleader's lip to split. A couple of drops of blood fell on the dark carpet of the gotessa's room. An invisible something grabbed Sanchez by the hair and slammed her head against the floor, smashing her forehead.

Sam barely had time to understand what was going on behind the noisy and alarmed chirping of magpies fussing around the hostess and pecking at the air. She grabbed onto what she thought the birds were attacking. The fabric of her red dress cracked under her fingers. She tore off the sleeve of the ghost's clothes, thereby forcing him to reveal himself.

The boy in the red dress. The familiar spirit that had been so submissive and obedient at the opening ceremony of the Gothic Circus was now raging. He growled like an animal, baring his long-rotted teeth. He just waved his hand, knocking Sam to the other side of the room. The girl barely stifled a scream, hitting the wall painfully. The glass of one of the frames with a vintage poster inside crunched under her back.

― When Danny talked about spirits taking revenge on everyone, I didn't think he meant EVERYONE, ― Sam groaned as she got to her feet. My head was buzzing terribly, and the incessantly pouring tears became so strong that they began to drip onto the floor.

The ghost abruptly turned Pauline around to face him. With such ease, it's like a cheerleader's body is no fun. He grabbed her throat with bluish hands with rope marks and began to strangle her.

Goth girl made another attempt to pull the undead away from her classmate. Leaning on the demon from behind, she tried to unclench his fingers, which were clutching Pauline's throat with a death grip. Sam's tears fell onto Ghost's bare shoulder and trickled down his arm. Under the sleeve torn from the dress.

For a moment, the ghost froze. His expression remained unreadable. He looked from his hands, which were squeezing Pauline's neck weaker and weaker, allowing her to finally take a breath, to her frightened face with a split and swollen lip and a bruise on her forehead. He succumbed to Sam's hands, completely unclenching the girl's throat and allowing her to crawl away, coughing dryly.

Instead, he turned all his attention to the Gothic girl, smearing her tears on the bluish skin covered with cadaverous spots. His body and clothes began to smoke from contact with the salty liquid, as if acid had got on them. However, the ghost did not show the slightest sign of agony, as if he was enjoying the way other people's tears were hissing on him, corroding him to the very bones. He caught new tears falling from the girl's chin, as if mesmerized by watching them dissolve his palms and muttered something in his native language.

― What's he doing? ― Goth said, barely moving her tongue.

― Mourners mourn those who are unable to mourn themselves, ― Pauline replied, wheezing and clutching her injured, bruised neck, quoting Ida's words almost word for word before coughing again.

Sam stared at the ghost, who, muttering incoherently, continued to stare at the light haze rising from the surface of the skin. He looked younger than them, just a kid. He was dying far from his family and friends, in an old house with an earthen floor. A long and painful death, slowly suffocating, swinging from a beam near the ceiling and cursing all life on this planet just because no one came to help. Going crazy from his own pain and rushing at anyone who caught his eye at the wrong time.

Dying in the company of a maniac who wanted to make his ghost his ideal slave for the next many years. A tool for doing even more dirty things that you wouldn't have to get your hands dirty about. A maniac who was never caught by the finger of justice at the time.

Taking the ghost's cold palms in her hands, Sam closed her eyes and saw the life that had been taken away from the boy. Full of friends, even in a strict closed school with strict army regulations, to which he was sent for bad behavior and petty hooliganism, stealing peaches from a neighboring garden. A member of a large and noisy family in which he spends his free time on vacation babysitting younger children and helping his ever-working parents with household chores. An ordinary life, in general, with its own small joys and sorrows.

Goth bent over the ghost's cropped head. Her tears, pouring from her eyes, fell on top of his head, flowing down his head, leaving wet tracks on his forehead. Getting into the ghost's eyes and running down his cheeks from them. Giving the impression that he has the opportunity to cry again. The spirit's body began to slowly dissolve into thin air, leaving behind reddish sparks that looked like sequins falling off a dress. But soon there weren't even any left. The restless soul went into oblivion, washed by tears.

― How are you? ― Sam wiped the last drops of moisture from her eyelashes with the back of her hand and walked over to Pauline, helping her up.

― It could have been worse, ― Sanchez finally cleared her throat. There were traces of thin children's fingers on the neck. It would obviously take a very long time to get off her delicate skin. ― It was cool.

At that moment, Mrs. Manson unceremoniously opened the door of the room, almost shouting the standard: "What's going on here?". The magpies took off from their seats, obeying Pauline's gesture and starting to fly haphazardly around the room, dropping small objects from the desktop and bookshelves. One of the birds clung to the perfectly varnished hair of a woman with its paws, noticeably starting to ruffle them, flapping its wings across her face, feigning panic.

The girls fussily began to catch birds, simultaneously apologizing to the screaming hostess of the house. When the last of the forty flew out the still-open window, there was nothing left of the immaculate plastic styling of the woman. Eye shadow, brown mascara, and bright red lipstick were daubed over her face with the wings of a bird. The perfect dress was wrinkled, covered with bird's down, and the starched collar was askew. Mrs. Manson froze in horror, looking at herself and the slight chaos in her daughter's room, which had so successfully covered up the traces of the recent scuffle.

― It seems you've lost an earring, ― Pauline said hoarsely, covering her injured neck with her hair and pulling the narrow collar of her tank top higher.

The woman felt both of her ears, really not finding one of the earrings. A large shiny jewelry in the form of a golden rose with a pink stone in the center. Her face was almost instantly covered with purple spots, her lips were compressed into a tight thin line, and her jaws were clenched so tightly that you could see the corners of her sharp cheekbones trembling.

― Ah-ah-ah! ― Mrs. Manson screamed so loudly that the windows almost began to crack from such a high pitch. ― Nasty birds! Dirty flying rats! ― she shouted, flying up to the open window and looking out for little feathered thieves on the street. ― Well, wait for me! I'll find justice for you! Where are the city authorities looking!? What is the district administration doing!?

With a sharp movement, slamming the window and closing the curtains, the enraged woman turned to the girls, glaring at each of them with an angry look. The only thing that saved Pauline from reprisal was that she had the status of a guest in this house, and the split forehead allowed her to pretend to be injured during this little "accident."

― Don't get so angry, ― Pauline rubbed her forehead, showing the wound. ― They're just birds. They were more scared than we were.

― They're flying rats! Peddlers of contagion! ― it was very hard to take a disheveled and disheveled Mrs. Manson without laughing. ― Sam, get the first―aid kit right away and treat your friend's wound. I don't want there to be rumors in the neighborhood that someone got sick after visiting us. And I'll call the sanitary inspection station. Let them rid us of these reptiles and treat the house! They've probably brought a bunch of their parasites here!

Furiously tapping her heels and continuing to shout curses in the direction of the magpies that had long since flown away, Mrs. Manson left, almost crying and trying to shake off the fluff stuck to the fabric from her dress and pulling out small feathers from her hair. She's obviously going to take a long time to get herself back into her usual idealized plastic look.

― Can I ask you something? ― Sam turned to Pauline, completely unable to contain her smile. Her eyes were dry and the only reminder of the tears she had shed were her slightly swollen eyelids. ― Can your birds hide this poor earring somewhere and never return it?

***

The family spent the entire time before the hospital in silence. Initially, Jess, as the most unprepared for the sudden and difficult changes in their lives, was offered to stay at home. But the girl silently gathered herself and got into a taxi with everyone at the very last moment. Along the way, without saying a word, she did nothing but scroll through something on her smartphone. Such a painful immersion in the news feed definitely could not end well, and everyone understood this, including not only Jess herself, but even the surprisingly silent taxi driver who drove them.

― Mom, I read it on the news... ― Jess hesitated slightly before continuing. Slamming the book case shut, she looked up at Maddie, who was sitting on the very edge of the chair in the emergency room, waiting for Danny to return after the dressing. ― It's true. Everything you've told me about Dad today.

Maddie looked at her daughter. The girl was upset: her eyes were wet, the tip of her nose was flushed, and her eyebrows were like a house. Until today, she was a normal person who lived in a relatively normal family, and today she found out that one of her parents was a criminal, probably not quite mentally healthy either. At least that's what Jack Fenton's act was all over the news. During last year's Samhain, the man managed to become famous for tracking down spirits right on the streets of the city, pouring ectopenia on passers-by in fancy dress. Fortunately, no one was hurt then, except for his reputation and the nerves of the law enforcement officers, who obviously worked overtime that evening because of him, because a couple of particularly impressionable religiously minded citizens adopted the hunter's line of behavior and began to pour "holy water" and sprinkle salt on the mummers approaching their homes. The news said that a couple of kids who got caught in the distribution had to wash their eyes, but nothing serious anymore.

And now...

― Unfortunately, dear, ― Maddie sighed, putting her arm around her confused daughter's shoulders. Her children are clearly going to have a difficult start to the school year with similar news that will appear against the background until Jack's case is closed.

― That's not the only reason you're divorcing him. Why can't I know everything that happened? ― Jess raised her voice more than she should have, attracting the attention of strangers and a couple of patients who, judging by the bandages on their heads, could not stand the noise at the moment. ― It's because of Dad that something happened to his arm, ― Maddie just nodded silently in response. ― You said that there was something else connected with him. But why can't I find out about it?

― Honey, the thing is, it's hard to explain. And I'd say it's a more private conversation, ― she replied, hinting that there were too many extra ears around. ― This is about your brother, after all, and you know that he doesn't like to do anything that makes him public.

― She doesn't even use social media, ― Jess just nodded sullenly, leaning back in her chair. ― But still, I have a right to know.

The girl was right about that, too. Just as Danny is right not to talk about everything that concerns the Iron Maiden once again. It's obviously not going to be easy to solve this ethical dilemma, but maybe when Maddie herself has more or less digested everything that happened, she'll be able to handle it easier. She should at least get a day of peace and reflection for this. It's just a pity that real life wasn't going to give her such a long break.

― What happened last Halloween. Tonight... It was obviously something not very good, wasn't it? ― Jess continued to reason softly, looking at the blank black screen of her smartphone. ― Dad's obsession with ghosts. The fact that he now takes even people for them...

― That's enough, honey, ― the woman put her hand on her daughter's arm. ― Everything seems too complicated now. Don't try to sort out what happened right away. Give yourself and your brother time, I'm sure he'll tell you everything himself when he's ready for it.

― And if he doesn't want to? ― sometimes it seemed that Jess really behaved like a child much younger than her years. On the one hand, there was nothing wrong with this, but on the other hand, such character traits did not help at all in solving serious issues.

― In that case, you'll have to put up with other people's desires, ― Maddie lightly stroked her daughter's hair. It probably wasn't the answer she expected, but it was an honest one.

Danny finally appeared in the waiting room with a fresh snow-white bandage on his palm, which looked much less alarming and much neater than the one that had been before. Accompanied by Masters, who, as in the morning, kept his usual restrained smile on the verge of falsity. It seemed that there would be no other emotions from him, even during the apocalypse. Maybe it was because of this innate composure and concentration that Danny trusted him faster than his own parents?

― Everything is not as bad as it seemed yesterday, ― the teenager smiled, showing a bandaged palm with a smile. There were still dark circles under his eyes, and his pale lips were completely lost in an equally pale face with huge blue eyes.

― I hope so,― Maddie got up from her seat to hug her son, who was surprisingly accommodating and not resisting tenderness today. ― I'll need to stay here on business. ― You can go for a walk with your sister or have a snack at a cafe. This is just a suggestion, if you want, I will order you a taxi and you will go home to rest. You don't have to wander around the city right now. I'll meet you at home and order something delicious, okay?

― It's not necessary to stagger, but we'll take advantage of the offer, ― Jess concluded, jumping up from her seat too cheerfully and grabbing her brother by the elbow with her good hand.

― Jess... ― Maddie said softly but insistently, letting her daughter know that she was being too intrusive right now.

― Don't make that face, Mom, I get it, ― Jess snorted in response to her mother's stern look, rolling her eyes.

Looking at the children hiding behind the glass front door and the somewhat pained look of her son, Maddie sighed heavily. It will be a great success if the brother and sister do not quarrel after this walk. Another scandal is clearly not going to benefit their family, especially now that they are all on edge. The disturbing thought that letting them go like this was not worth it was interrupted by Masters' voice lightly touching her shoulder.

― Is the girl too proactive? ― With a smooth gesture, the man invited her to follow him, into the depths of the corridors, to one of the service elevators, which did not transport patients unless absolutely necessary. The cabin doors opened almost immediately.

― I guess you could call it that, ― Maddy sighed, rubbing her neck wearily.

They went up to the right floor in silence. The woman kept glancing sideways at Mastres, lost in thought about the reason why this man, who seemed to her personally fake through and through, could be trusted. Danny has always been overly cautious in choosing his social circle. He preferred not to call friends of strangers and not to invite the whole class to the holidays, contrary to school rules that forbade this, which is why he received a reputation at school as a terrible boor and outsider. But Masters. What was so different about him for a secretive kid?

― So, how long have you known? ― Maddie asked as the door to Masters' office closed behind them.

― What exactly is it about? ― the man clarified, as if just in case, offering the guest a place at the table.

― About Danny, ― the woman explained. The knee of her leg, which was injured due to the incident in the mountains of Colorado, slightly cracked when she sat down. No matter how much she trains and studies, the fracture and long recovery will obviously take some time to make themselves felt. ― He told me a lot of interesting things today, but what really interests me is why YOU found out about it earlier.

― It's a trivial accident, ― Masters settled into the chair opposite her. ― It was just a combination of circumstances during your visit, timed to coincide with the alumni meeting, nothing more, ― the man looked quite sincere, but with his limited emotions, it was difficult to draw conclusions about such a thing for sure. ― I guess that really unsettled you.

― Stronger than I thought, obviously, ― Maddie understood that the man was now quite deliberately avoiding the answer, but she did not insist on her own. In the case of someone like Vlad, going ahead would just be suicidal stupidity. ― Too much has happened in the last twelve hours for us. And given everything that happened, I can understand why Danny didn't want to trust me or Jack at the time. But you... Even if you found out about all his features by accident, his secretive nature would not allow him to continue and develop communication with you without a reason. What's so special about you?

― There is an explanation, but it's not an easy one, ― Masters adjusted his glasses with a barely concealed disappointed sigh. ― I'm afraid now is not the right time...

― When you offered me to work for you, you insisted that Jack stay away from research, albeit in a very tactful way, ― the woman interrupted Vlad. ― In the documents, several separate sheets are devoted to explaining in detail what "non-disclosure" is and what things fall under it. Even government employers do not show such meticulousness in this matter. Even in a case that now looms before us all like a giant elephant in a cramped room, and with which Jack, with his obsession, and Danny, with his idiosyncrasies, are directly connected, you've been obscuring and avoiding questions for as long as you can. This cannot but suggest some thoughts about what exactly you seemed safe to my overly secretive son.

― You're still as perceptive as you were in college, ― Vlad smiled slightly, and it was genuinely difficult to understand the reason for his outright satisfaction with Maddie. ― You're thinking in the right direction, the part of my work that I don't advertise to the general public is really very close to your research, even if it doesn't completely overlap with them for ethical reasons. But to some extent, she often comes dangerously close to politics and social activities, no matter how much I would like to avoid it.

― Wait, you mean...

― Before we start discussing cases and before I fully let you in on the details, I would like you to understand what problems you will have to face, ― Masters sat in an armchair, keeping his posture perfectly straight. His whole appearance at the moment, as it seemed to the woman, radiated not so much danger as inevitability. ― For the most part, people are timid creatures, and at this time they are also so sensitive that even for banal politeness and saying "today is a wonderful day" to the wrong person, you can get a lawsuit in court. You know, if something goes beyond the usual, a lot can go wrong, and any misunderstanding can have very fatal consequences. What if there's more than one like Jack Fenton? Should a new witch hunt begin in the wake of public hysteria? Danny understands that, and I hope you do too. If you decide to immerse yourself in your work, and if you want something like Jack's case not to make SUCH a fuss, then a certain degree of unfreedom for you will be associated precisely with communicating with the press and any official statements. You will have to trust me on this, no matter how unpleasant it may be for you.

Masters outlined the situation quite clearly for her personally, using neutral words in case she says "No" and wants to play against him from now on. Jack and his actions are a stumbling block for all of them at the moment. You don't need to be a special genius of thought and a great strategist to understand exactly what Vlad is hinting at, drawing such an obvious analogy with a witch hunt. If Maddie decides to go against him, if she decides that she can play by her own rules, she risks raising a fuss and popular unrest during which her own son, and maybe not just him, will be thrown on a bonfire by superstitious people. Danny had been playing similar games with her for years, realizing that in the worst case scenario he would end up on the autopsy table and focused on it. Assuming the worst possible scenarios, he was able not only to hold out for so long and not be discovered against his will, but also got under the wing of a man whose influence is great enough to ensure his safety. A sixteen-year-old teenager, unlike his father, turned out to be very smart to understand how the rules of this social game work.

And if it comes to her children and Jack, then will the man have to obey the question of his puncture too? Should I tell the court and the press the versions he puts forward? Even if it's an outright lie? The very thought made Maddie's stomach turn. She was not just being dragged into another secret project, but into a secret project that could only be left upside down.

― What do you say, Mrs. Fenton? ― Masters' voice was as calm as it had been at the beginning of the conversation. The smile on duty did not fade, as if it was glued to his face. In any other situation, Maddie would have admired her composure and self-control, but definitely not now that she was offered a deal with the Devil. ― Do you agree with these rules?

― I guess if one girl wasn't in a coma right now, it would be easier to say "no", ― Maddie smiled bitterly to herself.

― Unfortunately, ― for a brief moment, sadness flashed in the man's blue eyes. The glimmer of sincerity disappeared so quickly that one might wonder if it had ever been there. ― As a small consolation on my part, I can offer all the honesty I have. It's not much, but that's all I have.

― I agree,― at the moment when she held out her ungloved hand to seal this unspoken agreement. When Masters' hot and dry skin touched her fingers, she saw a barely noticeable scarlet light in his dark blue eyes.

[bidulgie]

Daniel Masters badger cereal AU.... where the explosion happens but he doesn't turn into dark Phantom. I like the idea of Danny being adopted by Vlad but his means of dealing with grief means casting away the person he used to be. He starts to adopt more of Vlad's traits. Very loosely based on that one Daniel Masters fic ;u;

close ups!

[ris-n]

Danny Fenton/Phantom

For my fanfic, I created a small BIO of the character so that I wouldn't get confused about the specifics of his powers (and I was also bored)

==========

Danny Fenton/Phantom

Gender: Male.

Species: Undead. A hybrid of a human and an otherworldly being of unknown origin.

Age: 16 years old.

Height: 5.74 ft. / 1.75 m.

Hair color: Black.

Zodiac sign: Aries (April 3).

Religion: =\=

Occupation: School student.

Residence: Amity Park.

Hobbies: Astronomy. Physics. Mythology and the supernatural. Collecting VHS. Hiking (Trekking).

Favorite food: Semi-raw warm meat.

General information:

Danny is a student at Casper High High School in the city of Amity Park. Outwardly, he has almost no differences from ordinary people, but his essence is far from human. In his fifteenth he had an accident during which he accidentally absorbed a high dose of ectoplasmic energy during the opening of the portal to the “World between Worlds“ or ”Ghost Zone". This event awakened dormant abnormal genes in him and turned him into an ghost/undead.

After meeting Vlad Masters, a patron and teacher appeared in the teenager's life, with the help of which Danny got the opportunity to learn more about himself and about what ordinary people cannot understand or even see.

Appearance:

As a person, Danny doesn't look particularly remarkable. A distinctive feature of his appearance are large blue eyes and painful black-and-blue nails, which he often hides with black varnish. A small scar crossing his left eyebrow, which he got in elementary school after a fight with bullies. In everyday life, he prefers low-key clothes that do not restrict movement and hide most of his body. He does not like excessive openness and tight-fitting clothes because of the feeling of discomfort. Even on the beach and in the pool, he prefers to stay at least in a sleeveless T-shirt and loose shorts just above the knee. After the incident with the ghost portal, he doesn't really like mirrors and prefers not to have them in his personal space. The exception is Sidney Poindexter's mirror in his school locker.

He has a scar on his back from his father's old experiment in summoning spirits, which he received at preschool age. There are traces of a deflector on the lower back, also obtained as a result of an unsuccessful test of equipment against ghosts. On his right hand, there is a scar on the palm of his hand, encircling his thumb and looking like an endless “Life line” closed in on itself.

In the form of a ghost, he has snow-white hair, green eyes, more pointed predatory claws and teeth. He is wearing a protective loose black jumpsuit with white gloves and white work boots with reinforced toe. Under the influence of the Dark Companion, small horns of ice appear, the eyes turn completely green and lose the pupil.

As a human in photographs, he usually turns out with illuminated eyes, blurred and not very similar to himself. It is impossible to capture a clear image of a ghost in a photo or video. The picture will never be clear, it will be impossible to determine facial features, figure and height from it. The only distinguishing feature will be the primary colors of his jumpsuit and his bright, poisonous green eyes without pupils.

Personality:

Danny is an introvert. He doesn't like being the center of attention, even though he used to dream of being part of a more popular social group. He may seem quiet by nature, but he's good at fighting. Together with his mother, he is engaged in hand-to-hand combat, leads a healthy lifestyle, but he does not deny himself the pleasure of a portion of fast food at gatherings with friends. He has a strong-willed character and a keen sense of justice. He is patient if he receives negativity in his direction, but breaks down if someone close to him suffers. He cannot pass by when someone offends the weak and will definitely intervene.

Due to the rather large number of stressful situations in life, he is very good at acting in unusual circumstances in which a threat to his or someone else's life is possible. He often takes the initiative in such circumstances. But in everyday life, very often he does not know how to behave. He is too direct and harsh in communication, does not conduct small talk and does not like “talking about anything,” which has created a reputation for him as a terrible boor. If necessary, he can be a good and very convincing liar, but he has never succeeded in surpassing Vlad Masters in this art.

He has a fairly high intelligence, but he does not succeed in his studies due to his unwillingness to try. Because of his character, he comes into direct conflict with teachers from time to time, which also significantly lowers his average score. However, he often uses his mental abilities to perfect ghost traps and other useful or interesting inventions of his parents, which they often write off in the early stages of creating.

Powers and abilities:

Standard abilities: Invisibility, Intangibility, flight/levitation, superhuman strength and endurance, energy manipulation.

Formation creation: The ability to create solid objects from ecto-energy. It is a more individual ability that only the strongest undead can possess. It is considered a very energy-consuming skill.

Individual abilities:

Healing/Regeneration: Super-fast recovery of all types of damage, including lethal ones. Vital organs can be completely replaced and regrown within three to six hours. This ability could make Danny practically immortal, but it has its limitations. For such a recovery, the Ghost's body requires a huge amount of energy and material for recovery, which can only be obtained after consuming a large amount of unprocessed meat. Preferably of the same species to which Danny himself partially belongs (human flesh). Otherwise, there may not be enough resources for a full recovery, which will lead to dangerous exhaustion and falling into suspended animation until a suitable energy source comes close enough to the Ghost.

Cryokinesis: Danny is able to control the cold, lower the temperature around him to absolute zero, create icy objects and freeze objects in the range of forces at will. This ability makes it resistant to any cold weather, but extremely vulnerable to heat. He tolerates high temperatures extremely poorly and tries to spend as little time as possible in the open sun.

Howl: A loud and destructive howl is a weapon of “last houp”. The last resort is designed to send a signal for help and temporarily protect Danny. An excessively loud howl by an insufficiently formed body can be devastating for the ghost himself, injuring his vocal cords, which in a critical situation can cost him dearly due to the extra energy spent on further regeneration.

Flair: The ability to sense danger is manifested in the form of icy breath. A small stream of cold air from the lungs. Applies exclusively to potentially dangerous anomalous objects, creatures, or any other threat from outside. Danny probably won't notice the peaceful anomaly.

Heightened senses: Danny's sense of smell, touch, sight, and hearing are abnormally developed. With the right level of concentration, he is able to see the flows of otherworldly energy or the opponent's circulatory system, which, combined with high intelligence, helps him quickly identify other people's or ghost's weaknesses. As well as analyze a potential threat, even if it is outside the range of his ghostly senses.

Absorption of energy/vitality: An additional source of nutrition is the ability to absorb the life force of prey killed by the Ghost. After such a devouring of the soul, Danny's victim, whoever she may be, loses any opportunity to find the afterlife in any form and is completely digested in the stomach along with her own body.

Resistance to overshadowing: Danny can successfully resist any mental influence. It is impossible to capture his mind without his permission, and even if the Ghost does not offer any resistance, it will be impossible to control him completely, because his mind does not belong to him alone.

Dark Companion: A second soul or a second entity that awakened during the portal incident and was dormant as part of his soul before that event. It's not Danny's second personality, but rather a certain survival mechanism that is activated in emergency circumstances. In Danny's imagination, he took on the appearance of a giant chthonic chimera, combining the features of a deer, a predatory cat of a difficult-to-identify species, and a humanoid. However, it is still a part of the teenager's mind and personality. The manifestation of this ability puts the whole body into a mode of increased energy saving. This condition is different in that it disables all internal constraints that interfere with survival, such as morality, compassion and empathy, replacing them with more bestial patterns of behavior and puts the mind into fight/flight mode. The higher the danger, the less human qualities will remain active. This condition is almost impossible to control, but if the main source of threat is eliminated, then with a sufficient level of self-discipline, Danny will have a small opportunity to partially preserve human qualities.

The Dark Companion does not see the difference between a physical and a mental threat. To fatal stress that can harm the mind, it will react in the same way as to a fatal head wound, disabling any ability to respond to external stimuli and throwing all available internal resources of the body to eliminate the “wound”. In this state, Danny's memory may become more fragmented and his memories inconsistent. For the same reason, Danny's mind cannot be completely controlled. This intervention will also be regarded as a fatal head injury and will automatically stop further attempts to capture consciousness, at the same time awakening the animal instincts, which will be active until the threat is completely physically eliminated.

The state of the Dark Companion will act until the basic needs of the body are completely covered: food, water, shelter, rest. Any collateral damage on the way to achieving these goals will not matter. Any obstacle on the way to achieving these goals will be eliminated and, if possible, used as a source of food and energy.

[ecto-stone]

Am I Vlad ?

[kyotoprotocols]

[ris-n]

The dilemma of two button

A small mental experiment. Let's imagine that every person on the planet who is able to make decisions at one moment found himself in a locked room with two buttons. Blue and red. To exit, you must press one of the buttons.

Clicking on the buttons leads to the following actions: 1) If the majority of people (at least 50.1%) participating in this experiment choose the blue button, then everything will remain as it was, people will disperse and continue to live their lives as if nothing had happened. 2) If most people choose the red button, then everyone who chooses the red button will remain alive, and everyone who chooses the blue button will die.

You don't have the opportunity to communicate with other people and come up with a common solution. You don't know how the majority will vote.

Which button will you choose?

[virtualgalaxysuit]

Fragmented self 👁

Mono and echoes of his deteriorating mind

Or just his alternative descent routes inside the Tower, who knows teehee ;з;👉👈

I am cringe but i am free 😔✊️

[sovietpostcards]

ПОЕХАЛИ!

[jamathydodger]

Danny through the ages :P

[ris-n]

Splitting Images

Splitting Images – Danny Phantom Fanfiction by Natari

Read 'Splitting Images', a Danny Phantom fanfiction by Natari. Danny wasnt a quiet, straight-A student who everyone mocked for nothing. But

Summary:

Danny wasn't a quiet, straight-A student who everyone mocked for nothing. But he wasn't a bully either. For this reason, the curse of locker 724 did not work as usual. ============== Rethinking the episode "Splitting Images". I would like to make it more somber by brushing off all the comedic veneer of a children's TV show. This work is strongly connected with the history of "Chess" https://archiveofourown.org/works/68713206/chapters/177947791 and is a small spoiler to the development of this story. And also related to: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82836466

======================

At school, Danny had been deliberately not drawing much attention to himself for a long time. But after what happened in the Portal, he tried especially hard to lay low. He remained silent in response to most of the attempts to tease himself verbally. He'd learned to pretend that he just don't hear other people's words. In his head and mind, everything that was not his first and last name, pronounced correctly, began to automatically turn into background noise, which was easier to ignore.

He sincerely wanted to get lost in the crowd and not cause any more problems for himself or his parents. Every time his fingers touched the old scar above his eyebrow, Danny thought back to the day he got it. The fight was too noticeable, and not a simple showdown after school without prying eyes, which in a good scenario no one would even pay attention to. Then they not only brought his parents and Dash to school, but also the doctors because both participants in the brawl did not remain whole. When he was very young, Fenton had three stitches on his face, and Desh had a little less than a dozen stitches on his leg near the knee. A little more and quebec's career in sports would have ended much earlier than everyone had expected.

At that time, for the first time in his life, Danny lied even more than he expected, constantly repeating that it was an accident. Although in fact, he knew where, how and with what he needed to hit in order to make it as painful as possible. He always knew that, better than any of his classmates. Then his mother scolded him quite a lot. She threatened to stop practicing martial arts with him, the only purpose of which is to defend and defend. He tried to object at first, saying that he did not start the fight, but in that situation, the value of the victims was different, and the severity of the injuries was not at all in favor of Fenton.

He was still fourteen at the time. Even without that, the nerves were giving out from the endless emotional swings that the teenager arranged for himself. And what had happened in the portal had completely unsettled him. The world, which had seemed like a madhouse before, was abruptly filled with gloomy shadows and moaning spirits that began to annoy and haunt him whenever they realized that he saw them. And after he was in the hospital, the visits of the guardianship services resumed, on which he spent too much effort, pretending to be normal not only for himself but also for his father, whose next invention started making noise at the wrong time, or even went out of order and could even catch fire.

The fifteenth birthday was still a little over two months away, there was snow outside, and the school corridors were stuffy because the batteries were too hot, it was disgusting, and there was a strange smell from a mixture of bleach, which was washed floors in the evenings, sweat, and some unidentifiable stuff which was added to chips. He wanted to sleep very much, because at night he was not allowed to sleep by the whispering shadows outside the window that dragged him from the very city crematorium. Annoying, clingy, and boring, he had to chase them away from his house half the night just so that his parents' sensors wouldn't work. He wasn't feeling his best that day anyway, so Dash decided to push him again. Accidentally, or on purpose, Dash shoved him at an open locker so that the teenager dropped a cup of coffee from his hands.

The spilled drink was a small thing. Minor stuff that normally Danny wouldn't even pay attention to. But not that day. He stared at the coffee spreading on the floor for what seemed like an eternity, at the splashes on his favorite T-shirt and jeans. A textbook with flooded pages, which the school library will have to pay for damage.

And then he snapped. After all this time, he responded to the football player with aggression again, although he did not even remember what Dash had said to him, which brought him to the boiling point. But it came down to a showdown again, during which the door of Fenton's locker was torn off its hinges. There was another debriefing in Principal Ishiyama's office:

"This lunatic just snapped out of nowhere!"

"Because of you, I ended up covered in coffee, and then you tried to push me into the locker altogether!"

It was lucky that Ishiyama was clearly in a good mood and decided to postpone the conversation with her parents for later. To date, both troublemakers have been punished by cleaning up after school while adults figure out who is really to blame. And it was decided to give Danny a new locker at least for the duration of the renovation.

The infamous locker 724 was usually not assigned to anyone at school and remained empty. Everyone knew the legend of the Sidney Shooter, including the teachers, and they didn't give this locker to anyone because of superstition. But this case was an extreme measure, which was rather out of desperation, because there simply were no other available places. However, the keys to the locker, issued by the headmistress, was accompanied by a rather atypical note stating that no items currently inside the locker should be moved in any way, much less taken outside the educational institution. Because it was all considered the property of the school.

Danny then shrugged his shoulders and wondered more how he would place textbooks in the locker, which was already occupied by something, but it turned out that the only thing inside was a rather impressive-sized mirror in a simple copper frame, which occupied most of the back wall.

After serving his part of the sentence, Danny stayed a little longer after school to put his new locker in order. It was covered with dust from the inside, overgrown with cobwebs, some kind of old dirt and something like ashes. It seems that they used to keep cigarettes here, some of which, apparently, were extinguished against the door on the inside and a little against the back wall. These marks were the hardest to wipe off, but during the cleaning Fenton discovered that there was something strange under them. They look like scratches. After measuring them with his palm, the teenager decided that these could be nail marks on old paint. A small torn piece of broken nail, which he noticed lying at the farthest wall, between the top shelf and the side, indirectly confirmed his guess.

The boy shuddered a little at the discovery. Given the part of the Poindexter legend he knew, it all looked even more creepy, but he decided to put this old junk in order to the end, without abandoning the case halfway.

Carefully removing the mirror from the wall, Danny began to carefully wash it first, trying not to leave streaks on the glass. A small commemorative inscription “With love from California” was engraved on the back of the frame. It wasn't particularly clear to whom or from whom this message was addressed, but Danny quite naturally decided that the little thing was very valuable to someone at one time. But what made it even stranger was that she was left at school instead of being picked up after graduation.

After finishing dusting off the old and already fairly loose glass, which was covered with small dark spots and reflected everything as if slightly blurred, Danny began to clean the last back wall of the cabinet from traces of ash before returning the mirror to its rightful place. He didn't know then that the items in locker seven hundred and twenty-four weren't even allowed NOT to move around for a reason.

***

The next day at school, Danny didn't immediately realize that something was wrong. He was pushed, he spilled drinks and stumbled, and from time to time his feet began to sink through the floor, sinking into it as if in quicksand. Situations that have become commonplace for him over the past month after his discharge from the hospital. He tried to control everything and not show that he couldn't even handle himself in front of his friends, but by lunchtime it had become too difficult.

Tripping over someone else's foot, he fell to the floor, spilling the entire contents of the tray onto the floor and actually going without lunch. The feeling of his own worthlessness made him want to cry, but after catching his breath a little, Danny suddenly realized that no one was paying attention to him. No one laughed at his fall, or took a picture to post in a school group or anywhere else. Everyone was just passing by, skirting it in a small arc. Ignored and overlooked, just like Tucker and Sam. The friends just went on to the table and sat down to lunch, leaving him essentially just sitting on the floor surrounded by spilled soup and fried potatoes scattered in all directions.

It was then that he realized that there was something wrong with everyone around him, even if he couldn't quite articulate what it was. The world, as it seemed to him then, began to lose its bright colors, becoming a pale fake of reality before his eyes. It was as if he was being pulled into some other parallel reality. For a minute, or maybe a little more, he just fell out, looking at the school cafeteria as if from the side, until he heard Sam's worried call. Gotessa finally noticed his absence and came over to help him up.

Then the world began to become normal and familiar again, but the feeling of falling into the unknown did not go away. It was as if he was swimming in a lake and, catching his foot on something, he was drowning, not even imagining how he could untie an unbearable weight from himself, more like a cold tentacle of a dark water inhabitant. And after lunch, the smell of cigarettes appeared. It was weak at first, but it was getting stronger and stronger, as if its owner was slowly approaching it from an unknown direction.

In chemistry class, his hand became intangible and the tube of acid fell to the floor, starting to react with a nasty hiss with some substance remaining in the seam of the tile. And just at that moment, Mr. Lancer was supposed to come into their classroom to check on his “favorites.”

— Mr. Fenton, is it really happening again? ― the balding teacher said with a sigh. His face reflected nothing but endless boredom. ― Over the past month, you have been noticed damaging more than thirty items on the school's property list. And that's without taking into account your old locker. I'm afraid we should talk to your father first.

Danny really didn't like the fact that Lancer emphasized the word “father.” Of the two parents, he personally would, even in the worst case scenario, still prefer his mother over father. But of course, he didn't say anything to the teacher, it would only make the situation worse.

Behind the small glass window of the chemistry room door, the teenager noticed a strange black-and-white silhouette at that moment. Due to the turbidity of the glass, it was impossible to see details or facial features, but its gray color was noticeable to the unarmed eye. Danny felt like he was being watched from behind that door. He could feel someone else's gaze on his skin. However, when Lancer left the classroom, that silhouette disappeared. It was as if he had never existed. For the first time, a small cloud of cold steam escaped from his lips, settling on the glass tube left on the table and causing the flame of the alcohol burner to crackle dangerously.

At that moment, the teenager had no doubts. Something otherworldly really haunted him.

***

The second day began with a disregard that Danny couldn't immediately comprehend. The failures of yesterday continued, but now he was completely ignored, as well as for yesterday's couple of minutes in the dining room. But it was already going on constantly and without any interruption. The teenager began to fully understand that he was being sucked into some kind of surreal nightmare in which the only thing left for him was to look at the world from the outside.

The ghost began to appear more often. In the periphery of his vision, Fenton saw a strange black-and-white silhouette, and the stench of cigarette smog became much more palpable and nauseating. It was as if someone was smoking right behind him, occasionally releasing clouds of smoke. His gut began to react to the poltergeist nearby much more actively than yesterday, and it was like a strange hiccup, during which a cloud of steam escapes from his mouth and disturbs the sensitive tooth enamel with an otherworldly chill. But from time to time, the teenager still managed to pull himself out of this veil of frightening disregard.

When Jack Fenton dropped by the school after a call from Lenser, the tall man initially just walked past his own son and went straight to the classroom. Danny followed them rather out of habit, because no one called him and even the office door was almost closed in his face. Back then, in this colorless environment, next to his father in an orange jumpsuit, the teenager felt very tiny. Of course, he was probably much shorter in those years, but for some reason, this difference between his own size and his massive father, who was wearing bright protective clothing that stood out against the background, was especially noticeable at that moment. Standing in Mr. Lerser's pale office next to him, he felt incredibly small. It seemed that the man could split him into atoms at any moment, even without any anti-ghost weapons.

— Your son has been getting too distracted, short―tempered, and disorganized lately, — Lancer said at the time. ― This creates obvious problems for him personally, not only in his studies, but also in his interactions with his peers. Do you have any suggestions why this might happen to your son?

— None at the moment, — Jack rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ― But I assure you that we will solve the problem at home...

— Mr. Fenton, I have learned that after your son's week―long absence due to hospitalization, the relevant authorities visited you, — Lancer spoke to his father in such a stern tone, as if he were one of the students of the school, and not an adult. It seemed so strange to Danny that it even brought him out of his stupor for a while. ― I didn't want to talk to you so that something would happen to one of my students again that would send him to the hospital.

― What are you implying? — Jack immediately began to sound much more intimidating. It seems that he reacted even too vividly to the words of the head teacher than he should have. Lenser even changed his face for a second, giving the man an appraising look and perhaps realizing that the conversation could clearly go wrong.

Danny could literally feel the tension in the office, where he felt invisible. Or maybe he really was at that moment in time. Until now, the teenager himself has not been able to determine this for sure for himself, because at that time he still had little control over his new abilities and could from time to time become partially or completely invisible against his will.

— Non, Mr. Fenton ― Lancer smiled, but it was the most fake and forced smile Danny had ever seen at that point in time. It looked like Lancer had already gotten at least some of what he wanted out of this conversation. ― It's just that sometimes undesirable behavior originates from the child's immediate environment. Perhaps there are those in your family's inner circle or among his friends who could have a bad influence on him. Such a bad company can set not only a bad example, but also a danger if your son does not demonstrate acceptable behavior in this team. And I would absolutely not want to put my student in unnecessary danger.

In the past, the teenager had seen and heard a lot of rather veiled conversations between adults, which they began to conduct every time they did not want to start a conflict over words. Small allegories, hints, veiled accusations of something ― this was not the trick of everyone, but only those who wanted to save face. It always looked like a cross between a verbal duel and a game of chess, where, with the worst outcome, both sides played this social game as gently as possible and without a single hint of sincerity.

— Unless it's some girl he's friends with. — Obsessed with death and everything dark. But to be honest, I didn't notice any strange behavior behind her, — Jack seemed to be reasoning calmly. But there was something in his words that Danny's brain was hooked on. Did he play too? Or was it sincere? ― There may also be relatives on the wife's side. They're a bad influence on he, too, frankly.

“From the wife's side? Is he talking about Aunt Alice?" Danny thought in disbelief. Yes, he knew perfectly well that his aunt and father weren't on the best of terms and might even fight from time to time, but it never got to the point where it was between him and Dash. The teenager could not believe that his father was now blaming his bad behavior not even on himself, which would be logical, but on a person with whom he communicated personally once a year at best. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to his beloved aunt, who let them into her house for a short vacation after going camping with her mother. Who sat with him and Jess for most of the summer when they were little. Who took care of them and never did anything wrong.

This injustice restored Danny's sense of reality. The world began to become normal again, to take on color, not just contrast. A strange feeling appeared in the center of his chest, as if an abnormal source of energy was growing inside him, giving him a boost of strength to do something that he usually did not do before.

― I haven't talked to Aunt Alice since Christmas, and I haven't seen her personally since last spring. Don't slander her, — he objected. He interrupted his father and said something against him.

At that moment, it was as if someone had noticed him. His father twitched slightly, as if he really hadn't seen him until he spoke up. He seemed like an ordinary person again. Yes, he is quite large and tall, but ordinary, and not at all a giant who can kill him with one hand. The feeling of fear and helplessness in front of his parent, which he felt just a minute ago, seemed to disappear along with the stench of cigarette smoke, which also receded for some strange reason.

Lancer also seemed a little surprised that the teenager ended up in the same room with them, but he barely showed it. Just to look much more professional and maybe have some advantage over Jack.

— Well, I think we should continue this conversation in private, Mr. Fenton, ― the teacher began calmly, straightening his tie. — And you, young man, should hurry to class. You have biology, if I remember correctly, and important lab work today. Try to be more careful with the equipment today.

He went to class, leaving the teacher and his father alone, although this was the first time when he sincerely did not want to. While people ignored him because of strange curse and thought he wasn't in the room, the adults were talking about something else entirely. About those things that Danny didn't hear from adults when talking when he was present with them personally. It gave him a lot of new information. Too much.

His head started spinning even before he managed to get to the biology room and sat down at the table in front of the frog that was to be dissected. He had something to think about and analyze besides adult behavior. The poltergeist at school was clearly reacting to his own behavior. It was his approach that made the world look faded and black and white, but the fact that he didn't stop talking in his office back then clearly affected him, forcing him to step back for a short time for some reason.

Now, in biology class, in front of the dissected amphibian, the teenager began to feel the anomaly approaching again. The smell of cigarette smoke and the subdued colors returned. This time, the teenager did not give free rein to his own emotions, firmly deciding that he should not be allowed to be dragged into this alien abnormal something. It's just a pity the ghost had other plans.

Sidney appeared next to him near the middle of the laboratory work, when the frog was already fully opened, and the internal organs were removed from its body and meticulously laid out side by side for a more detailed sketch. He just casually sat down at the same table with him, as if taking advantage of the fact that he didn't have a partner this time. Danny studiously ignored him, as he had done before with the shadows from the crematorium or the local cemetery, but the creepy and much more human appearance was frankly harder to ignore than the shapeless something.

Grey skin. Gray clothes. Gray eyes. It was as if he had stepped out of an old photograph from Danny's great-grandmother's school yearbook, which was taken before the invention of color printing. Thick glasses were glued on the bridge of his nose with duct tape, and his clothes were neat and clean in appearance... but it's a smell. Cigarette smoke would come out of the ghost's mouth with every “breath," if he was really still breathing.

― Stop playing the comedy, you can see me perfectly, ― The teenager almost dropped the scalpel in surprise. The ghost's voice was smoky and horribly hoarse. It was giving his the creeps. ― I came to you for a reason, but also not because you did something wrong. Bullies usually infuriate me, but you don't infuriate, but rather cause pity.

Danny didn't answer. He tried to ignore the ghost. Even taking into account the fact that no one paid attention to him, he did not plan to say anything. It certainly wasn't good for him right now. Besides, it was not clear for sure what the ghost was planning to do, which absolutely no one in the class would see at close range until Sid himself wanted it. Unlike Danny himself, this guy had clearly achieved one hundred percent of his invisibility.

― However, you don't have to answer, — Sid exhaled a cloud of acrid smoke onto the table, forcing the teenager to turn to the window and cover his mouth with his hand so as not to cough. No one else in the class reacted to this madness, further convincing the teenager that no one else was seeing Poindexter.

There was a view of the school parking lot outside the window. Mr. Lenser and his father were standing there by a large SUV, apparently continuing to talk about something. For some reason, Danny held their gaze longer than he wanted to. Even when the smoke cleared, he continued to stare out the window.

― You know, sometimes problems are created by those who, in theory, should protect you from these very problems. They first deprive you of everything, cut off all ties with your family, force you to fight with your friends, burn all bridges, and they continue to pretend to be a good guy. They're doing everything they can to keep you alone with them. After all, it would be more convenient to dissect you without witnesses. — Sid sounded calm and even gentle, as much as his smoky, hoarse voice would allow. ― And the only way not to lose your future because of them is to get rid of them first. I can help you with that tomorrow, after the last call. After all, you don't want to take that frog's place on your dad's desk one day, do you?

Turning back, Danny found the chair next to him empty. Only a strange little pile of ashes on the floor under his desk was a small indication that everything he saw was happening in reality, and was not a figment of his imagination. It dawned on Danny at that moment. Suddenly, Sid's entire behavior and the strangeness of his curse, which had two outcomes, became very clear. He was absolutely sure that he would find confirmation of his theory in the police archives if he looked there again.

***

Waiting for classes to end at the end of the third day was even easier than Danny had expected. He was no longer haunted by failure or simple disregard, which in most cases looked like an accident. Something else was waiting for him today. Much more creepy, but at the same time strangely soothing.

He became truly invisible as soon as he entered the school. His friends didn't approach him or even address him once all day, even though Danny was standing right behind them most of the time. They continued to discuss the lesson they had just had and asked, “Have you seen Danny today?". Attempts to talk to them or touch them did not lead to anything. They did not hear his voice, did not feel his touch, and even when the teenager stood right in front of them, he was bypassed without touching even the edge of his clothes. They didn't go through, as was usually the case with a Ghost, but rather bypassed it, as if it were an anomaly that no one could notice. He tried to talk to them in class, but even the teacher couldn't hear his voice. He tried to leave them a note, but each time a piece of paper or a chalk inscription on a blackboard was destroyed before it could be noticed by anyone who could understand its meaning.

It was strange and creepy to admit that at that point in time it didn't even really scare him. It was a wild and crazy feeling, which was more like a sense of relief, because if no one paid attention to him today because of the curse, then it would be much easier to pull off what he was planning. After all, he might not even appear in all lessons if necessary, no one would notice his absence anyway.

But he was curious about one thing. It was insignificant at the moment, but he just wanted to make sure that he could somehow contact his friends and warn them what to do, if something goes wrong. And that's why Fenton dialed Tucker's number then. Called him standing right behind his back, completely unnoticed by anyone because of the curse.

Surprisingly, the tech guy's cell phone rang quite quickly and Foley picked up the phone:

― Danny! Finally! — He was talking too loudly, and Sam was interrupting him, demanding to turn on the speakerphone. ― We already thought that something had happened to you because of that damn locker. Where are you?

— I'm right behind you, ― the teenager replied calmly, carefully watching his friends turn around standing in an empty hallway, but looking somewhere through him.

— It's not funny, ― Sam said indignantly. ― Show yourself and stop playing these games.

— I can't. It's not me who's invisible, it's Sidney who made me this way, — Danny watched his friends' faces turn pale, and their panicked eyes scanned the hallway in search of an invisible friend. ― I shouted at you, but you didn't hear. I even tried to touch you, but it didn't work either. I don't know what exactly is going on, but at least I was able to call you. ― He sincerely did not understand exactly how the curse worked, and for this reason, he could only make guesses that did not want to be formulated into a full-fledged thought. For perhaps the first time in his life, Danny regretted a little that he hadn't spent as much time on literature and vocabulary expansion as he should have, according to Lenser's instructions. Perhaps this way he would be able to describe more precisely what is happening to him.

― Friend, if this is a joke, it's not funny at all, — Tucker's breaking voice abruptly became hoarse from nervous tension. ― You say you're in the hallway, but we can't see you. You say it's because of Sid, but you're not a bully. Is it really because of the locker?

— I'm afraid so, ― Danny sighed. ― At the moment, I'm only sure that Sid wants to talk to me, not destroy me. I think I know how to get out, but if I don't manage to come home to you before midnight in the evening after school... — Danny paused. That's what he wanted. What he needed to ask for was the very extreme he had hoped to never resort to in his life. ― You will need to tell my mom about everything. Just her, not to my dad okay?

― But we could help you now, — Sam eagerly snatched the phone from Tucker's hands, hoping that the proximity of the speaker might help her in some way.

― I don't think that's possible. Go to the last lesson and wait for me, I'll... ― Danny's last words were drowned out by the bell for the last lesson. The connection was abruptly cut off and Tucker's phone went silent. No beeps, no noise, nothing. Just silence.

At least he gave them everything he wanted while he had the chance. Watching friends fussing uselessly, grabbing the air with their hands in an attempt to touch an invisible friend was almost painful. Their venture was clearly not going to be successful, and he still had things to do before the last call.

Danny settled down in the assembly hall, sitting in the front row, and waited, trying to collect his thoughts. If he understood everything correctly, then he would need to be at least convincing enough, and that also meant being eloquent. He always had problems with the latter: he didn't have much experience dealing with peers, and he didn't have any special negotiation skills. All Danny could do was lie tolerably well, having thoroughly trained this skill on social services and police officers. But he wasn't friends with the truth at all.

Surprisingly, everything that was the absolute truth, which Danny was one hundred percent sure of, sounded like a lie from his mouth: implausible, unconvincing and strange. They always stopped believing him when he was telling the truth for some reason. But that day, he needed to change it somehow.

He honestly didn't want to fight Sidney. Not after he read his file. Danny saw Sidney's house, mountains of alcohol bottles and his mother's body hugging a bottle of poison. Jack always told him that ghosts were just parasites. That they stick to people, steal their identities, and just pretend to be real. For the hunter, there was not a single piece of evidence that ghosts could feel physical or emotional pain. Jack didn't believe that they could think rationally or show any complicated feelings, because all they were doing was trying to get closer to future victims in order to harm them without any motive.

Just because ghosts are monsters.

But at some point, the teenager began to doubt this, and it was even difficult to say exactly when. Was there a beginning of these doubts at the time of the accident? In the hospital, when did he first see the ghost of a woman who was trying to comfort her husband and son, who were crying next to her closed room and couldn't see her at close range? Or maybe when a small green blob flew out of the Portal, looking like a clot of green jelly and at the same time behaving like a small timid animal, cautiously looking around in the laboratory and sniffing Danny's hands with that strange hole that supposedly replaced his nose? He didn't know the exact answer, but he still remembered how the creature began to weaken rapidly and melt in his hands, like a beached jellyfish.

It should have been assumed that out of their habitat in the Ghost Zone, simple creatures like blots die quickly. Like fish without water. Then Danny returned the poor guy to the portal, fearfully throwing him into the funnel, afraid to get closer to this green whirlpool of otherworldly energy. But he understood that his father was clearly wrong about something, and for a very, very long time.

The last bell from class sounded muffled. Outside the doors of the auditorium, Danny could hear the tramp of schoolchildren running home and their cheerful shouting and laughter. It was just another reminder that he had to succeed. That he must cope and get rid of this curse in order to become a part of the world of living ordinary people again to the fullest. He tightened his grip on the video projector remote control, feeling his palms start to sweat.

Some time after the last noise subsided, the corridors of the school plunged into darkness. The strange thing was that the lights in the hallway didn't go out along with the assembly hall lights, but he didn't have to guess for a long time about the reasons. Soon, Phantom heard footsteps coming from the entrance. The clatter of tiny heels of old-fashioned men's shoes, the rustle of fabric and the stench of cigarette smoke.

— I didn't expect to find you here, ― the poltergeist's hoarse voice sounded calm and even polite. — Do you mind if I sit down? ― Sidney was incredibly polite for someone who killed some of his classmates at the beginning of the last century. That alone caused extremely mixed feelings.

Danny nodded silently, watching Poindexter settle into the next chair across the aisle. The teenager stared absently at the bright orange smoldering tip of the cigarette that Sid was holding in his teeth and couldn't understand why it was so different. Why does this particular little dot have at least some color?

― So, have you thought about what I said to you yesterday? — Sidney was sitting facing him sternly, one leg crossed over the other, and leaning his elbow on the back of the chair. — I can really help you, even if I can't leave the school ground. But that's not such a big problem, — the poltergeist blew a smoke ring into the air. ― I'm afraid that this big guy won't wait, nor will he give you at least some kind of head start. Hunters don't give odds to prey.

― You know, you're right, ― Danny followed the flight of a round ring of smoke, which at some point began to remind him of a spiraling Portal. ― They won't give me a head start, but that's okay. I'm used to my father not giving me any special favors, you know. But he's not the only one in my family.

Danny pressed a couple of buttons on the remote control, turning on the auditorium projector. A picture of a cozy country house of Aunt Alice appeared on the big screen, which Danny and his mother hugged. It was made last year after the traditional pre-summer hike that they and their mother had arranged. The end point, as always, was the village of Split, which was not even on the maps. It is quiet, calm and cozy in its own way, despite all the difficulties of rural life and periodic interruptions in the supply of fresh water.

— You know, my father always said that ghosts are the embodiment of pure evil, who do bad things just to do bad things, — the teenager began, while Sid suddenly carefully examined a photo taken on the veranda of a wooden rustic house next to the forest. ― But I'm sure you don't want to hurt me. You really want to help, protect, and all that. In my own way and in ways that I cannot agree to. But I have real people I can turn to if things get too much... — Danny paused for a moment, searching for the right word. — Not in my favor. I have a lot of ways to solve problems, and I have friends and family besides Jack. I have more than the only option you want to offer me.

It was the longest speech of his life, and even in lectures, Fenton had never spoken as long and thoughtfully as he did that night with Sydney. His throat was dry with excitement, and his fingertips began to tremble slightly, forcing the teenager to grip the remote control with both hands again so that this disgrace would not be so noticeable from the outside.

— Probably the only one who didn't have any options out of the two of us is you, — Danny's words made the poltergeist look from the screen to him. His gray eyes looked incredibly big and sad behind the lenses of his glasses. ― And I'm sorry for that.

Sidney was silent for a long time, looking at the photo again. He looked at the details so intently and diligently that he even pushed his glasses up on his forehead, apparently more necessary for him to better see the objects next to him. At some point, it began to seem to the Phantom that the poltergeist was not taking his eyes off the image displayed on the projector screen simply because it reminded him of something. And he sincerely hoped that it was something at least a little bit good.

— They call me the curse of the Casper, but I always meant well, — Sid muttered. ― I wanted to help.

— I believe you, ― Danny nodded. —But you need more help for yourself.