Ring of Madness

by Royden Labrosse

  - It's about that. What's wrong with you?

  I should have apologized. Or try to apologize. Why would I ruin my relationship with the creature on whom my family's life depends, and mine in the first place.

  - I don't know anything about vampires, so take it as a tribute to my curiosity. Do you eat anything but blood?

  - No. But I was a good cook... before.

  - I'm sorry.

  It wasn't cold in the grey eyes now. There was humility. Danielle knew that I could hurt him with careless questions, but he accepted it as an inevitable evil. I promised myself in my mind that I would be careful. But when did I succeed?

  - It's okay. It's okay. I've been a vampire for a long time. I'm used to it.

  - How long has it been?

  - About three hundred years old.

  - Three hundred years? Too bad!

  - It's not the longest time. My maker is about nine hundred. And vampires of the Council are never younger than two or three millennia.

  - That's awesome.

  - It's no cooler than what happened to us yesterday. Jane, can you tell us how you and your friend got into the club?

  Yeah, well, there's nothing to tell. But to get information from me, "would you mind..." Goat understands that if I don't confess now, we can't have a further conversation. I need to know about vampires. Wouldn't it be possible for me to put my cards on the table and Danielle wouldn't? Why, do you have a choice?

  I sighed and started talking. The vampire was listening without interrupting with questions. And when I finished, I sighed a clear sigh.

  - Jane, you're in serious trouble.

  - I know. I had a good idea. I don't know if a vampire will accept it, but I need to watch myself less. And the interrogation will go easier, as if under the guise of a friendly conversation. - I know it's very serious, but I'm not sure how serious it is yet. Look, can you just tell me about the vampires? What, how, why, why... Well, so I know exactly where I'm going! And I'll ask questions as I go along. Okay?

  Danielle shrugged his shoulders and turned to the electric tile.

  - Okay. Let's start with an easy one. What do you know about vampires?

  - Count Dracula. A book and a film. Some legends, some horror movies.

  - Legends and movies are not to be touched. I don't do gossip spreads. And there's simply no real information there. Okay! Count Dracula. To be honest, this is godless nonsense. I mean, Vlad Zepesh did exist, but he wasn't a vampire. He knew we existed, he negotiated with us, but he didn't want to be a vampire himself. The God-fearing man was.

  - Then what are you, born already?

  - A friend told me. He was just there at the time.

  - As a Turkish sultan?

  - Are you gonna listen or interrupt?

  I obediently shut up. You can't say, "I'm hitting you on purpose to see if you're lying to me or telling the truth."

  - Mr. Stoker made fun of Transylvania for nothing. Simply because of English contempt for all other nations. In fact, everything he described in his famous "Dracula" was happening in England. And not even too far from London. Only if he had written the truth, his real prototype Dracula would have been wiped clean. And London would have gotten hysterical. Massively. Led by the King and Queen. Why did this book come about? We realised the world was changing rapidly - and we'd have to legalise ourselves in it someday. It took good PR to start, and Mr. Stoker did a great job. Before his book, we were just being killed. Now with the word "vampire" half of the people will try to escape, and the other half will either want eternal life or try to interview.

  - So, I live in the third half.

  I figured what I personally did in front of a vampire. Oh, yeah. Poor Duchka was completely fooled at first. Then they poured holy water (it's a pity there was too little water, I would have known - brought a bucket to the club). Then they gave him one more rug. And for an appetizer they also kicked him in the most delicate place. But the last one was his own fault. Who asked him to shake me like a pear? I was actually aiming for my knee, I think...

  Yeah, Mr. Stoker wouldn't write off his heroine, that's for sure. I can imagine what that would look like in practice!

  "At midnight, he flew to the window of an innocent maiden, waving the broad wings of a bat, and called her in a languid voice...

  - Jane... Jane-a-a-a-aah!

  In response, a slipper flew out of the window (a vase of flowers, a book, a night pot with all its contents, a log from the fireplace - this is what got under the arm, so ... got) and impaled into the head of a vampire.

  - Go away, nasty, let me sleep! There are fans here! Cats only shout in March, and these cats all year round! Stalin (or considering the era of parliament) is not on you! »

  Or alternatively:

  "He flew into the room and leaned over the bed.

  - Jane... Jane-a-a-a-aah!

  Purely by accident, turning to the sound, the heroine's inscription hit the vampire with her elbow (back of the head, foot) on his teeth, brutally knocking out a canine and three primary teeth, and then squealed so that the poor bloodsucker did not immediately find the window. Ultrasound stunned."

  That's more like me.

  And as for eternal life...

  Ha!

  I've seen life like this in a coffin! In white slippers! It wasn't enough to run around at night and bite all kinds of things. What if they have some kind of eczema? Or worse than that? I've been taught since I was a kid not to pull all sorts of stuff in my mouth!

  I wouldn't have touched yesterday's jeep banderologists and pliers. But Danielle's definitely gonna drink them. Or is it starving, and usually vampires prefer more aesthetic food? Dyushka had his eye on Katya rather than on Natasha, didn't he?

  - Did you have breakfast today?

  Danielle smiled without showing fangs. Very human.

  - No. I'd rather have dinner. Listen to me next. Vampires are organized into groups. We're, you know, individualists, selfish and rebellious by nature. So a lot of vampires try not to get together in one place. I mean, not like this! Much earlier, about a thousand years ago, when people began to think of us as evil, vampires decided that we should switch to strict secrecy.

  - So conspiracy or legalization? - I interrupted it again.

  - It's both. Let them consider us a fairy tale, but they treat us well, than the other way round - they know that we are...

  - And they think you're bastards.

  - You're the one who's still too soft. Would you like a hell-breed, Lucifer's offspring, demon feces? Priests are the master of such things. But further on in our story. A council of vampires of five elders has been formed. They are the oldest and most experienced of us. And the strongest. This council makes laws, judges lawsuits and makes decisions on penalties. No vampire dares disobey the Council if he does not want to die (or worse). There are vampire communities in cities. Each community is headed by the Prince of the city. He is the sole lord and master of all vampires in the area. A protector or a creator. They must report to him and obey him unconditionally.

  - What is a tread or a creator? - I specified.

  - Master - protector or creator - creator. If I come to the territory of another Prince - I must ask and get his consent. In turn, my Prince must receive from the Prince of the city in which I am going to confirm my safety. If that does not happen, I act at my own risk. And I may just be killed. Or kill me painfully and long. If all the formalities are agreed, I can ride in complete peace. If I suffer the slightest harm on another Prince's territory, he will answer to the Elders.

  - And Duke...? Or are you here at your own risk?

  - No. My princess gave Andre power over me. He was in his right.

  - Even when I tortured you?! Too bad!

  It just didn't fit in my head. It's all voluntary, too?! Fangers have gone mad! Or is the collective farm a voluntary thing? Do you want to join, do you want to shoot?

  - Even at these moments," Danielle confirmed. - Although it was very difficult for me.r />
  - And there's nothing you can do?!

  I didn't understand what was going on. If I'd been treated the way he did and then I survived, I'd be on horns. And Danielle is calm and discreet!

  - Something's possible. But I'll tell you later. Drink the juice before it gets cold.

  I curled up and I salvoed the cup. That's disgusting!

  - I wonder why? And by the way, why did Andre hate you so much?

  - Did you drink all the juice? That's great.

  - Don't walk away from the answer.

  - I'm not leaving. But you can have breakfast and listen at the same time.

  - I can. What do we have for breakfast?

  Danielle turned around with a heavy wooden tray in his hands and put it on my lap. I wrinkled my nose.

  - What's that?

  - Veal liver. Half-raw. A side dish - fried potatoes. And pomegranate juice. It's good for you.

  - Sadist!

  - Vampire, if you'll excuse me.

  - I'm willing to allow it. But for breakfast, I actually prefer yogurt and toast.

  - You need to recover your lost blood. That's it. Eat without arguing, or I won't tell you anything.

  I pretended to believe it, put a piece of liver in my mouth and stared faithfully at Daniel. The vampire smiled as he showed his fangs and clicked me on the nose.

  - Now it has to be chewed and swallowed. Well?! Otherwise, I'm not gonna tell you.

  - He's also a blackmailer. Danielle...

  - Yeah?

  I effortlessly swallowed a piece of liver and drank it with pomegranate juice. I think it got through. But eat it all? The portion was designed for three of me.

  - Why did you even come to this town?

  - Eat up. One more piece.

  I put another piece of liver in my mouth. You can eat a frog for such revelations, not like vampire cooking!

  - Did you wonder how I ended up with Andre? Well, it's simple. It's simple for me. Have you seen his club? The wolves? Frescoes?

  - Saw it.

  - And how do you find them?

  Danielle stuck his eyes in my face like he was preparing to catch me in a lie, but I was completely honest. And it didn't cost me anything.

  - They're beautiful.

  There's joy in the silver-gray eyes.

  - I'm the one who painted them.

  - Yeah?

  I had no doubt, I just couldn't think of a better line.

  - My Prince lent me to Andre. I'm an artist, Jane. Since I was born. I was an artist man, and I couldn't give it up later. On the contrary, it became my soul and meaning of my life. I couldn't find anything else in it. A vampire has no family, no children, no homeland - I have nothing left. Just my brushes and paints.

  - Oh, I see.

  I really did understand. I got really sad. A vampire artist. An incredibly gifted artist that his homeland would be proud of. If he hadn't become a vampire then, three hundred years ago.

  - Was it your personal choice to become a vampire?

  - No. I was just a student then. My master was drinking. And a woman came to the workshop late at night, hiding her face under the hood. She wanted to order her portrait. I suggested she draw it. And she said yes. It was my first portrait, and I tried my best. She was very beautiful. Except she wasn't smiling. She wasn't smiling at all. And she didn't say much. And she would only come at night. After I finished her portrait, she turned me into a vampire. Nobody asked me for my opinion. I was just caught on the street and initiated.

  - My poor friend.

  I touched Daniel's hand. Only one type of his hand could tell that he was an artist. Even his fingers spoke of his profession. Thin, long, nervous, graceful and very strong, even on sight. The vampire didn't pull away. On the contrary, his fingers slipped and intertwined with mine. He looked carefully into my eyes.

  - Friend?

  - Yes, - I confirmed.

  - I drank your blood. In front of you, I killed an innocent man, at least I could have left him alive. I practically raped you yesterday - and you call me your friend?!

  - Yeah. If you want to do it yourself.

  I really didn't understand what he cared about. Yes. He did, but so did I. And for some reason, I don't care. Not a bit. The rest of the worry must have slipped out of me with the rest of last night's dinner in the corner of the torture chamber. We were defending ourselves. And my grandfather taught me that all means are good for winning. If you want to survive, go ahead without looking back. And don't think you've got a city, a field or a bridge under your feet. Then, after the victory, you will build houses again, throw the grains into the soil again and repair the bridges. But if you are killed, who will do all this for you? You can doubt and cry and fight hysterically, but it's better to do it all after you win. And in war, be kind enough to fight!

  - Don't you feel disgust or fear for me? Disgusting?

  Ah, here's the thing!

  - I don't feel anything like it. On the contrary, I like you a lot. You know, you can be a good vampire, or you can be a bad person. And nobody's gonna convince me that the former is worse than the latter just because of fangs and the original diet.

  It seems to surprise vampires is becoming my profession. My grey eyes have perplexed.

  - An original diet? I drink human blood! Don't forget it!

  - And how often do you kill to get drunk?

  Danielle kept his eyes open. Did he decide to confess in front of me? Well, good hour. Information is always useful. By the way, is it just information? Jane, don't lie to yourself! There you are! You're the one who's sitting in bed right now, looking into the light grey eyes and happy with his honesty. Admit to yourself - you like him.

  Yes, I do. It's also because I don't experience "Catherine syndrome" in his presence. He's handsome, but not enough to make me nervous. And he's not using his vampire charm. Or does he, but just a little and discreetly?

  Well, who knows?

  Anyway, you have to be careful and calm. And not to put everything Danielle tells me on a pedestal of absolute truth.

  - I kill sometimes. More often than not, I just drink blood. I don't need too much to be saturated, and then, we have voluntary donors.

  Hmm. But out loud, I didn't express my doubt. On the contrary.

  - Is it worth worrying about then?

  - I'm glad you feel that way.

  I just shrugged my shoulders. How am I supposed to take it? For good or evil, but I don't suffer racism. My grandfather used to tell me from early childhood that there is no sin worse than Nazism, that all people are equal, that the color of skin, eyes and hair doesn't make a person better or worse, - and I learned this stronger than the rules of good tone. And vampires were automatically included in that list. Well, what can we do now, if nature has created them like that? We're not mad at mosquitoes, are we? It's their nature. Monsters? We don't know who's worse, vampires or inquisitors! And how many people died during World War II! They died in agony! Vampires have never dreamed of such victims! Except for a couple of centuries. But why hasn't anyone hunted down scum from Berlin with a stake of aspen in their hand and recorded them as unclean? Automatically. They deserve it, don't they? They deserve it. And yet they're considered human. And vampires aren't human. Although the latter aren't very guilty of their nature. That's funny. Anyway...

  I once asked my grandfather why our troops didn't cut out all of Germany then. That's what the Deutsches wanted to do to us. It would have been a clean eye for an eye. The times were simpler, the war would have written off everything. No, it wouldn't. The Germans stayed where they were. Why not? And he answered simply. There were innocent people there, too. And those who came to us were deceived by the crackling chatter of politicians...

  Stupid boys, you can't tell otherwise. Only those who profited from someone else's blood were worth killing, but the trouble was, they weren't so easy to reach. And it doesn't have to be the Germans.

  It's scum and bastards. And they're all kinds of scum and bastards. And if yo
u take Forbes Magazine now, everyone who's printed there has their hands bloody on their elbows. Even if they didn't kill anybody with a gun themselves. But that doesn't make it any worse than their country. Or the people they belong to.

  I couldn't have said it all in a coherent and simple way, but I think Danielle understood me.

  - Well, let's move on.

  Danielle pulled away, reached out and took two sheets of paper from his desk.

  - Look at this.

  I gently picked them up, and I awoke. They were two portraits made in colored pencils. One portrait was of Nadia. But how he did it. It was a kind of two in one. My friend was standing on a light grey background in a black nun dress and a white headscarf, I think, apostle. She stood halfway in front of the mirror. She was easy to recognize, but not at all like in life! Completely different! How did Daniel manage to convey her inner light, her kindness and love for people and for life? All that she hid so carefully under the mask of rudeness and boorishness? It takes more than just talent. It takes a genius to do it! Such a Nadino face could be depicted on an icon as well. It was alive, human, incredibly kind and sympathetic. And involved in the events of the world around them. As a child, when my grandmother was still alive and took me to church, I looked into the evil faces of icons with fear. They were all gloomy and cold. Gold and stones shone brightly, incense drove my head crazy, and the glitter of candles enlivened the dead faces, but they remained dead anyway. Compassion was written on them, and it was read in their eyes, "What is it that we saints do to your sinful land?! »

  They were too far away from people in their divine perfection. They can't understand you. They can only judge and, of course, forgive. And for that, I hated them. And Nadia's face was alive and clear. It shone with love for the world and a willingness to help. Not to judge or forgive, but just to reach out.

  But there was more to it than that. Nadia was also reflected in the mirror across the street. But - with a completely different face. Now it was a woman in the armor of a medieval knight. Wearing a ring and a sword. The hair behind her back, her face cold and stiff. And the only thing in her eyes is the desire to fight. And... that feeling... That woman in the mirror wasn't soft at all. She would have done anything to achieve her goal, but at the same time in the whole figure, in the face, in the hand, careless gesture of the sword lying on the handle, there was a sense of nobility. And that, too, was Nadya. The two sides of the coin. And both damn faithful. And they're beautiful. It was really Nadia, you could know her better than in the photo, but where did the liquid hair and excess weight go? These portraits could be put on the cover of "VOG" or some men's magazine, and by the end of the month Nadya calmly could be married to a millionaire. They would also have fought for such a wife under the door.