"Only speaking? You haven't seen him?" Her undisguised worry was plain, and in the depths of her eyes I thought I saw an unspoken plea—a hope that it was still reversible.
"There's no way back," whispered the dark companion, sending a shiver down my spine.
"I have seen him. More than once. At first, I thought he was Vladimir's shadow…"
"Can you describe him?"
I hesitated, sorting through mental associations in search of the right one.
"He probably looks like Anubis. Instead of a head, he has animal features, something between a dog's and a wolf's. His whole body seems woven from a dark mass and appears to have no contact with the outside world—no gleam, no play of light and shadow. He's flat, two-dimensional. When he appears, no one else sees him, even though he doesn't try to hide. Well, except Max, who managed to spot him before. Even now, in this very room, he's appeared several times. But what frightens me most is that, even if he isn't always visible, he's constantly somewhere nearby. It's as if he can make himself visible whenever he wants."
"You're close to the truth. I am indeed always here, but I appear only when I'm truly needed. When you let me through from the other side."
"The other side?" I asked, scanning the room for the dark companion, but Maria gave my shoulders a quick shake, pulling my attention back to her.
"Whatever he tells you, don't listen! Look at me—look at me!"
"But why?"
"This creature wants only to harm you!"
"Oh, really?"
Kaandor was standing behind Maria, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching almost lazily.
"He hasn't said anything that could harm me. Sometimes he throws out ambiguous remarks, but at least he never urges me to do anything."
"For now," Maria released my shoulders with a deliberate, heavy sigh, as though the work ahead would demand all her strength. I still couldn't fully grasp my mother's worry. What unsettled me more was how easily Maria had entered Vladimir's home and how naturally she seemed to belong here, as if she had always been part of it.
"Mom, what are you really doing here?"
"I told you already: I came to answer for the sins of the past and make things right," she repeated, and as if that explanation were complete, she turned to the doctor. "How much vampire venom have you already injected into her?"
"You knew?" My father's horrified gaze darted to Maria at the mention of the cause of his anger, but she only gestured for him to wait, focusing all her attention on Vladimir.
"Today I had to start a third vial ahead of schedule. Asya was supposed to come to the hospital only in two days, right before the full moon, but circumstances changed, so the course got thrown off a bit."
"What circumstances?" Maria frowned. "You can't play with dosage and administration schedules. You've only provoked a flare-up."
"And what, pray tell, was I supposed to do while you were gallivanting who-knows-where, begging the coven for support, and Diana shows up at my doorstep with Asya in a borderline state?"
"She was about to transform? That can't be."
"If you don't believe me, ask my daughter." Vladimir gestured toward Diana, who stood frozen, watching the exchange with a puzzled look, as if she had never met Maria before and couldn't understand what this stranger was doing in her home.
"Well?" Maria planted her hands on her hips in impatient expectation. Diana swallowed nervously, clearly rattled by her pressure.
I had never seen my mother like this. In my memories, she had always been a gentle woman with a couple of jokes up her sleeve to break the tension. Now, on the contrary, the air in the room seemed to grow heavier because of her. I wasn't the only one who felt it; Max stepped forward, shielding his beloved, ready to defend Diana without a second thought if needed. The moment Max became a barrier between them, I noticed a faint shadow of a smile appear at the corners of Diana's lips. Feeling his support, she touched her throat and said quietly:
"Yes. I think so. On the way home, Asya started squirming in her seat. I heard the crack of her bones shifting—I thought she was about to change. I wanted to stop the car, but I decided to risk it, and here we are." Diana gestured around the room. "Father gave Asya a sedative, and she fell asleep."
"Sedative?" Maria repeated to the doctor, losing all interest in the girl.
Vladimir shrugged.
"What else was I supposed to say? 'Step aside, daughter, I've got fresh vampire venom ready, everything's under control'?" His tone dripped with sarcasm, but no one in the room shared his amusement.
"Let's summarize." Father stepped up to Maria, close enough to meet her gaze head-on, and in the way Kostya carried himself there was an unspoken threat. "You knew perfectly well that our daughter—a werewolf—was being pumped full of vampire venom, and you sincerely supported that idea without even talking to me?"
"Yes."
Unable to bear the emotions overwhelming him, Kostya swung his arm. I only had time to gasp, covering my mouth with my fingertips, seeing my father so enraged for the first time. He had never raised a hand against anyone, and that was exactly why the scene unfolding before my eyes was even more frightening—the realization that Kostya was no longer in control of himself. And it was all because of me. How would things have turned out if I had stayed in Rostov to finish my studies? What if I had never moved to Xerton? I didn't have time to finish the thought before I noticed that my father's fist had not reached its target, frozen in the air.
"I wouldn't have hit her," my father ground out through clenched teeth. "Never. I was aiming at the wall."
"Thank you, Maksim," my mother said coldly, and only then did I notice my middle brother raising a tense hand. He must have used magic. "Konstantin truly wouldn't have hit me. His fist would sooner have landed on the wall or on something else within reach. In the best family traditions. Right, Kostya?"
"As in the best traditions, you're once again making decisions about our child's future without me."