by Dark, Masha
Somewhere between the second and third floors she suddenly heard a strange sound. It wasn’t a frightening sound, no; rather it was pitiful, full of pain and desolation.
Vasilisa bounded up to the next landing and saw the source of the sound. A tiny, three-colored kitten, mewling feebly, was shaking with fear on one of the steps, shrinking into the cold, dirty stone.
“Oh you poor little crumb cake,” said Vasilisa, forgetting for a moment all about the suitcase full of money.
The kitten suddenly stopped meowing and began to sniff at the air fitfully. Cautiously, afraid of moving too suddenly, Vasilisa stretched out her hand to the kitten.
“Come here, come to me,” she coaxed tenderly.
It was almost completely dark outside when Dalana finally entered her apartment. She entered – and immediately felt that someone was there. Someone else, whose presence was almost imperceptible, and whose aura was so insignificant that Dalana had been unable to detect it a minute ago when she was standing outside the building, probing her apartment for the presence of any unauthorized creatures. Now Dalana also sensed the scent of the other mingled with the fragrance of her own perfume, which Vasilisa had apparently used quite liberally this morning.
Judging by the sounds coming from the bathroom, Vasilisa was wallowing in the Jacuzzi.
The other transmitted its thoughts weakly and indiscriminately on the most primitive level. The creature, its belly full and its fear somewhat abated, was in the kitchen. Not bothering to take off her shoes, Dalana followed his mental torrent. She tensed, preparing her body and mind for a possible fight with the uninvited guest.
A bound – and she landed softly on the tiled kitchen floor. From underneath the table a pair of small eyes, simultaneously frightened and curious, gazed up at her.
“Meeeeow,” said the creature in a thin voice and then mentally added, Food…warmth.
“Scram!” commanded Dalana aloud.
The kitten, pressing its tiny ears to its head, tore out from under the table like a bullet and fled the kitchen. In the corridor it was brought up sharp by the curve and almost fell, but it found its balance in time, after which it disappeared into one of the bedrooms.
Dalana glanced at the saucer in the corner of the kitchen then shifted her gaze to the open bottle of milk that stood on the counter. A little farther, on top of the refrigerator lay a plastic bag from a supermarket. Throwing open the door of the refrigerator, Dalana beheld an assortment of groceries, enough to feed a cat for a whole week – from cat food to farmer’s cheese and sour cream.
Firmly closing the door of the refrigerator, Dalana marched into the bathroom. Vasilisa was lying in foam with a blissful expression on her face.
“Oh, hello,” she said happily. “I didn’t hear you come in. Come join me.”
Dalana stalked up close to the tub and sat down on her haunches. Now the transmog was as close as an outstretched arm.
“How are you?” Vasilisa asked animatedly. “By the way, madam, your five million awaits you in a suitcase on your bed. In cash, as we agreed. Oh, who could know how much this cost me…what I mean is, spiritually. The money itself I don’t begrudge, just so you know. It’s worth it…”
“Was it you who dragged in that kitten?” Dalana asked in an even tone, interrupting her monologue.
“Of course, who else?” acceded Vasilisa.
“Uh-huh,” nodded Dalana. “And may I ask why?”
“Listen, I couldn’t leave her on the stairs,” said the transmog indignantly. “As soon as I saw her I went all soft inside.”
Dalana linked her fingers and cracked her knuckles slightly. Vasilisa flinched but stayed where she was.
“So, it was also you who bought food for her?” continued Dalana, kneading her knuckles.
“There was nothing here for her to eat,” said Vasilisa in a heightened tone of voice. “Besides, I already told you that I needed a toothbrush. And conditioner for my hair. To hell with my clothes, but at least I can brush my teeth, can’t I?”
“You went to the supermarket,” said Dalana, lowering her voice.
“What on earth for?” The transmog gave a snort of contempt. “I called and put in an order for delivery. True, I had to bum a bit of cash from you to pay the delivery guy.”
“So that means you were also rummaging through my things?” Dalana said in a near whisper.
“You yourself gave me permission!” yelped Vasilisa in reply. “This morning when I had to pick out clothes for myself. What else was I supposed to do, huh? I only have one hundred dollar bills!”
Dalana stretched out her arm. Vasilisa recoiled in horror.
“There’s so much I want to ask you,” murmured Dalana softly, almost tenderly.
She touched the girl’s cheek with the tips of her fingers, once again noting how smooth her skin was. Vasilisa closed her eyes and began to purr blissfully. Dalana stroked the velvet skin of her cheek, and then her fingers traveled down to Vasilisa’s neck.
“About what?” moaned Vasilisa. “What do you want to ask me about?”
Dalana lightly squeezed her throat.
“Tell me,” she replied coldly, “do you ever use your head?”
And, not giving the girl time to realize what was happening, Dalana forced her arm down at a sharp angle. Vasilisa disappeared into the bubbly water. The girl started to struggle desperately. She bucked, scratched and yelled but as a consequence only sucked in water, as well as slopping a good half of the tub over the side. After counting to one hundred, Dalana dragged Vasilisa back up and let her go. She began coughing in an effort to clear her lungs and then collapsed, sliding down and quaffing down more water in her panic. Dalana roughly grabbed Vasilisa by the hair and hefted her head above the water.
“Now, you will bring that kitten in here and without any fuss you will drown her,” Dalana said crisply. “Otherwise I will drown you and pocket your money. Decide.”
“Why…are…you…so cruel?” Vasilisa gasped hoarsely, her mouth greedily clawing for air.
“Look, one more question and I will pick option number two,” Dalana hissed. “And I will not regret my choice.”
Dalana released the transmog’s hair. Vasilisa convulsively grabbed at the edge of the tub.
“I’m going now,” Vasilisa said in a bleak tone.
Dalana did not wait while the girl dragged her way out of the Jacuzzi; she headed straight for the bedroom.
The suitcase with the Louis Vuitton logo was on the floor near the bed. It was Dalana’s favorite traveling case. Two years ago in New York she had paid almost three thousand dollars for it. However, because of its present contents, the value of the suitcase had grown exponentially. Opening it, Dalana got an eyeful of the stacked packs of money. Beautiful stacks of bills in a beautiful suitcase. Contemplation of things of this nature always elevated her mood.
Vasilisa walked by the bedroom, slapping the bare soles of her feet against the floor. The kitten, which she was pressing to her own almost unbeating heart, did not guess that in a few minutes its pitiful, damp little corpse would be thrown in the trash. In its pure consciousness Dalana heard only a single, vividly expressed emotion – love. Love towards the creature that had warmed and fed it. It purred in satisfaction, pressing up against Vasilisa. The wave of pain that the transmog’s consciousness generated in reply almost knocked Dalana from her feet. Perplexed by such strength of feeling, Dalana listened attentively to Vasilisa’s mental stream as she walked into the bathroom.
It only took Dalana a moment to realize the truth of the matter. Vasilisa, who was actually fairly strong mentally, was using all her abilities, unconscious though they were, to keep a check on her emotions, forbidding herself from thinking about her murdered brother and sister. Dalana understood full well that for all their squabbling and in-fighting, both Nicholaus and Lucinda were very close to their roguish younger sister. When they perished, something in Vasilisa’s soul broke and died with them. She was channeling all her heartache into hatr
ed towards those who had killed them. But heartache requires another outlet, not just the negative. And so now Vasilisa was projecting all her elusive grief onto a creature that had accidentally crossed her path, a creature that was worse off than she was – she poured it all out onto an unfortunate, weak, half-blind kitten, which had been cast out to die.
Dalana listened as Vasilisa turned on the tap and the water gushed into the tub. The girl wanted to fill it up to the edge in order to be certain…
Dalana had lived on the earth for a very long time. The majority of the Begotten of Old, including herself, regarded both humans and transmogs as lesser beings. They came to this world much later, and they certainly left it much sooner. A shorter lifespan was accorded to the animals that did not belong to the world of the Begotten of Old. And the majority of humans, in their turn, regarded animals as lesser beings. In the beginning, two principles were present in every living creature: Good and Evil. In different ages these Principles were called different things. Hell and Heaven. Day and Night. Yin and Yang. But even these principles were relative, as is everything in the land of the living. Many creatures remained apathetic over the course of their life cycle, experiencing a minimum of emotions and feelings. And yet, emotions were inherent to both principles, both worlds, for on them depended the very concept of Life. The structure of creation was arranged as an extremely elaborate dance: some gave Life, and some took it away. But the most important thing was that it was exactly this concept – Life – that united each and every creature on Earth: humans and animals and Tengri and Noyans and Edzeni and many, many others, who all dwell on the vast earth.
Slamming the valise shut, Dalana walked to the bathroom. Kneeling next to the full tub and cuddling the bewildered kitten, Vasilisa was sobbing silently. Noticing a stranger – Dalana – the kitten began to struggle. Dalana walked over to Vasilisa, feeling that she did not know where to start. The kitten finally managed to wiggle down to the floor, but Vasilisa, convulsed with spasms, could not keep her balance and fell over onto the tiles. Dalana bent over and carefully raised the sobbing transmog from the floor. Vasilisa fell to her knees again, unable to straighten her back.
“That’s enough, now,” said Dalana, trying to keep her voice detached. “Get up. It wouldn’t do for a princess to roll about on the floor.”
Vasilisa looked at Dalana with eyes red from crying.
“You know, we had cats,” she said huskily. “When we were still people…three cats lived in our house. I remember that one of them had kittens, but Lucinda refused to drown them. She and Nicholaus spent the entire week finding homes for them…They gave them all away… God, how I miss them!”
Vasilisa howled a piercing, deep-chested howl. Dalana pressed her hand over her mouth. She had to squat next to Vasilisa.
“Shh, hush now,” whispered Dalana, knowing that in such a state the girl simply could not hear mental words. “That’s enough now, we don’t want the neighbors to call the police. Is she really that dear to you, this kitten? If that’s so, well then, I don’t mind, you can leave her here for a while. Right now I’m going to put you to bed – morning brings wisdom, as you yourself know. “
“Meow,” said the kitten, who had been keeping a close eye on them this whole time.
Vasilisa stopped howling, threw her arms around Dalana’s neck and nestled into her shoulder. She was still shaking, but her sobs gradually wound down.
Yielding to a sudden impulse, Dalana gingerly stroked Vasilisa’s wet hair.
“Meow,” asserted the cat again, and she walked over to Dalana, stepping lightly with her tiny paws, and nudged her leg with her chin.
Dalana had not succeeded in her goal this day: establishing the identity of the creature that hid under Soigu’s mask. Whoever or Whatever he was, he guarded his secret closely. But Dalana was certain that she would find his weak spot. Everyone had one; she only needed to search properly.
Dalana only hoped that the implementation of her plans was not overturned by this odd transmog, towards whom she was suddenly feeling – she might as well admit it to herself – protective. Sooner or later, Dalana must earn the advance that Vasilisa had paid her, and it really wouldn’t hurt to collect the remaining balance owed her. Then, they could each go their separate ways with a clear conscience.
Vasilisa had almost completely calmed down and now was softly blubbering into Dalana’s shoulder. Dalana’s muscles, which were cramped from sitting in an extremely uncomfortable pose, were already beginning to go numb, but she needed to wait until the girl was fully recovered. The kitten was looking at her questioningly.
“You come here too,” sighed Dalana.
“Meow,” replied the kitten and it nimbly leapt up on to her lap.
CHAPTER FIVE
1.
There, where deeds bear witness, words mean nothing.
Cicero
Towards ten o’clock, Marisa had burned herself out so much that she did not have the strength to get herself home. As a rule, analytical work tired her more quickly and intensely than field work, whether it was a premeditated arrest or a spontaneous sweep. The endless stream of emails, the interrogation of witnesses, the manipulation of data, the calls, and all the running about unhinged Marisa, who loved the adrenaline of the chase and the smell of her gun after it fired. And indeed, hand-to-hand combat, especially when there was a significant risk to her life, had captivated the girl even during her training. But today was a different kind of day. Marisa traveled from floor to floor of the central headquarters building, grabbing handsets here and there, meticulously sifting through all, even the most implausible, information of ‘eyewitnesses’ who had allegedly seen a girl who matched the description of the fugitive vampire. And there were quite a few of these ‘eyewitnesses’.
By the end of the day it seemed to Marisa that she had gone deaf in one ear: unsurprisingly, in the one to which she kept pressing telephones. She was so tired that her fingers kept hitting the wrong keys, and her evening report was so full of mistakes that the spell check gave up. Marisa rubbed her eyes with her heel of her palm, but still they kept closing from exhaustion. Her back hurt and her feet were aching. There was no way she was going to get behind the wheel of her car and drive home. Marisa could call a taxi or just spend the night at headquarters – she’d done it before. Now, in her proud solitude, she sat enthroned in a swivel-chair, her swollen feet propped up on the table like a lord. But it was also possible that there was someone else in the headquarters building who was, just like her, in no special rush to head home.
After pondering this for a couple of moments, she took her phone from her pocket and dialed Pavel’s number.
“Volsky here.”
“Hi,” said Marisa tiredly, barely moving her lips.
“Are you okay?” asked Volsky.
“Relatively,” she replied. “My lips are misbehaving. They probably just want to sleep…just as much as my eyes want to.”
“I can take you home,” offered Volsky.
“I don’t want to go home.” Marisa grimaced, instantly picturing her cold apartment. “No one is waiting for me there. It would be better if you came down to see me and to tell me what you managed to dig up since we parted company.”
“You seriously want to hear about that at night?” Pavel marveled.
“Oh yeah,” confirmed Marisa. “And I will show you a priceless composite sketch. It was just made today. It has to do with that vampire coven.”
“Is it a first-rate sketch?” Volsky noticeably brightened.
“You’ll love it,” pledged Marisa.
“I’ve got something to show you,” declared Pavel. “Should I send it by email or fax?”
“No way – bring it here yourself,” she replied. “I’m waiting.”
Marisa had not yet managed to properly stretch her back before Volsky was at her door.
“A meteor,” smirked Marisa.
Pavel swaggered over to Marisa’s desk and perched on its corner. He also looked very ti
red, and his bloodshot eyes were especially hollow. But to Marisa’s surprise, this detail only increased the allure of his face.
“You flatter me,” said Pavel, brushing it aside. “It’s the new elevators. Did you really not notice? They were installed a week ago.”
“I did think that the mirrors in there were suddenly very clean,” Marisa frowned to herself. “Anyway, aren’t you afraid to sit on the corner of my desk? That’s seven years without marrying, you know.”
“As if I need such pain!” retorted Pavel. “All of us here are married exclusively to Goldberg and our glorious desks, anyway. Take a look at this disk.”
With these words Volsky drew the black square of a disk from his hip pocket and handed it to Marisa.
“How could I not?” she said, opening the lid of her sleeping laptop. “And you take that pile of print material over there. The sketch is there too.”
The other half of the past day had been largely devoted to the composite sketch, which was drawn by the specialists of the graphic arts section of CRUSS according to Zemfira’s description, with illustrations from a demonology compendium. Marisa didn’t find anything among the various aberrations and monstrosities that even slightly resembled the toad-like, ebony-black beast.
“Hoo-boy, what a beast!” said Volsky, scrutinizing the glazed composite sketch. “It looks just like Jabba the Hut.”
“Sure, Jabba the Hut. That’s helpful,” muttered Marisa.
In the meanwhile, she had opened a file named ‘Suspect List’ and three word processing pages appeared on the screen.
“So what is it?” Volsky contracted his forehead inquisitively.
“Beats the shit of me.” Marisa shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve been trying to find out the entire day. Useless. No one knows what she is.”
“Are you completely sure that it is female?” Pavel asked with a smile.
