"You did the right thing calling us right away instead of an ambulance. Very lucky we were passing by."
Doctor Smirnov and his son appeared on the doorstep in less than five minutes. When Stas saw my bewildered, tear-streaked face, he immediately wrapped me in a saving embrace. Carefully stepping aside with me, he gave way to Vladimir, who easily found my father in the living room and provided the necessary help. Through my own sobs, I couldn't make out what was happening in the room, and to be honest, I was afraid to hear the ominous silence that would herald the irreversible.
But everything turned out fine. Vladimir carried my father to the bedroom and laid him in bed, assuring me that Kostya would come to his senses soon.
"This happens to your brother when emotions become especially strong. Those with poor control let the beast out in a fit, while the stronger ones" — the doctor nodded toward the closed door — "switch themselves off to avoid doing something they'll regret."
"I thought it was a heart attack. I was terrified," my hands itched to rub my eyes, which still burned from tears. "But isn't holding the spirit back dangerous for people like us?"
"Fortunately, your father doesn't do it often, and he gave his beast plenty of freedom yesterday."
Stas was busy in the kitchen, brewing tea. As soon as he poured boiling water over the herbs in the teapot, the room filled with the scent of lemon balm.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that. In any case, the danger has passed. Things could have turned out much worse if the doctors had come here."
For the first time, I thought about the consequences my family might face if someone learned about the Chernys' shapeshifting. On the other hand, Kostya had lived in Xerton for so many years without raising suspicion — why would trouble suddenly find us now? I understood that I still knew too little and planned too little ahead, which made me feel the weight of fears pressing down on me all at once. After all, if anyone could put the family in danger — even unintentionally — it was me. Instead of the promised strength, I felt only the paralyzing helplessness in my body. An insider among outsiders. An outsider among my own.
Stas placed a cup of tea in front of me and sat down beside me. With exaggerated care, he took my hand in his and gave it a light squeeze, as if letting me know he was ready to stay in the house as long as necessary, just to help.
"Will Dad wake up soon?"
"Hard to say. This has happened to him before. On average, I'd say he can be out for around three days until the beast inside calms down. What happened before the episode?"
I hesitated, not wanting to let the doctor into the details of my personal life. It was unlikely that an argument with his daughter would fit under the "anamnesis" category that could help the patient. Some part of my life had to remain under wraps.
"Nothing worth telling," I reached for the cup and carelessly took a quick sip. The hot liquid burned my lips, and a curse escaped me.
"You may heal faster now, but that's no reason to pour boiling water into your mouth. It won't make it taste any better," Stas tried to turn it into a joke, but I wasn't in the mood to laugh. In defending my boundaries and arguing with Dad, I never imagined it could end like this. It was strange how upbeat Stanislav seemed after yesterday's news. Apparently, my parents and I had made the right choice leaving the Smirnovs to sort out their own family drama. At least Stas kept only slightly distant from his father, which meant they had managed to find some points of understanding. I could only hope the others were also okay after the heavy news about their mother — and the unexpected guest, Nikita, in their home.
The world is an unpredictable thing; you can never say for certain how it will all change tomorrow. One minute you think your father is a fearless being immune to ordinary illnesses, and the next you're wondering if it's a heart attack before you — or something worse. Though honestly, what could be worse? Nothing came to mind, but my imagination painted in vivid detail a massive coffin of dark lacquered wood. I shook my head to drive away the unwelcome image.
No more deaths. No more funerals.
Vladimir said nothing, but he watched me with open curiosity. It was as if he was waiting for me to change my mind, but the doctor's wishes were his problem alone.
"Damn," I muttered quietly, remembering what day it would be tomorrow. "So much for my trip to the open day if Kostya doesn't wake up by tonight."
"I could try to speed up the process," Vladimir offered, deliberately keeping the details to himself. "But you kids will have to take a walk."
The doctor spoke in a calm tone, but despite that, an unpleasant foreboding stirred inside me. I was used to being constantly on guard around this man. It felt like the moment I let my vigilance drop, I could find myself locked in a tiny room deep in a hospital basement, like Nick's mother once was, and become one of his test subjects — in his mind, for the greater good. And yet, after speaking with my mother, I began to see the story from a new angle. Vladimir had helped me, working in tandem with Maria. Who knew what he'd been doing with Karimov, but he had kept him alive, and someone had tortured Nikita — I had seen it — but it seemed Nik knew exactly what he was signing up for: he hadn't asked us to take him from the Smirnovs' house, and he hadn't thanked Viola for freeing him. He acted like an outsider in the house, yet at the same time, he helped Olga stay on her feet.
Could I leave my father with Vladimir and not expect trouble, knowing now that everything he had done was for the benefit of others? It seemed he was unafraid of outside judgment, fear, or distrust. Vladimir had his own truth, and I had been able to see and understand, most likely, only a small part of it. Doubts gnawed at me, while the hope of attending the open day at Xerton State University tempted me. The dream of a simple human life — one I was not yet ready to give up — loomed on the shore, signaling and reinforcing my belief that it was not too late to don the wolf in sheep's clothing, to learn to pretend to be ordinary, just as the entire Smirnov family could, and even my father. As if this simple event could, at least for a little while, roll back recent events and give me the support I was desperately searching for.
My unease spread to Stas, who began asking Vladimir leading questions, gradually calming himself in the process.
"Have you ever managed to help Konstantin wake up earlier before?"
"Once or twice, when I thought it was necessary. Usually, the circumstances are different, but since Asya won't be able to spend the next day by her father's side, it's worth hurrying. I'd offer my services, but we've been putting off feeding for far too long. After yesterday's events and the scent of Olga's blood, it creates certain risks, even for those born to it. Viola was already on edge the last time we met with Asya. We can't delay any longer, especially before the open day, when, as usual, the whole district will gather. Too many people for young and hungry vampires — too dangerous. We'll leave at dawn and be back by evening."
"I remember our plan. If something comes up, you could cover for Asya so she can still go to the open day."
"How could I let someone else's daughter go anywhere?" Vladimir sounded genuinely surprised at his son's reasoning. "Isn't that what caused the argument?"
"What makes you think we argued?" I faltered.
Vladimir sank into the couch, stretching his arms across the soft surface with a satisfied air.
"Because the last few times this happened to Konstantin were right after he spoke with his ex-wife."
I couldn't believe my ears. As far back as I could remember, my parents did nothing but fight. How often must my father have felt unwell if every conversation between Kostya and Maria came down to mutual reproaches? Only in recent years had they managed to meet in person less often, using me as a go-between. But the situation had changed: first, they had managed to clash at my grandmother's funeral, and now Maria and Kostya were forced to be in the same city. Just yesterday, in the car, they had been exchanging barbs. Perhaps that had heated my father enough, and I had become the final snowflake to fall on the mountain's peak, triggering the avalanche.
"If you accept my help, you and Stas should take a walk somewhere," he pulled a set of car keys from his jeans pocket and tossed them to his son, who caught them easily in his palm with a practiced motion. "You can take my car. I'll call when I'm done."
"Shall we go?" Stas stood up quickly and was already heading for the door when I gestured for him to wait.
"I need to change. I'm not going outside in pajamas."
"Kigurumi is quite fashionable."
"I'm not about to drag street dirt onto the soft plush that's so nice to sleep in," I retorted, unmoved, and still headed for my room.
"Asya," the doctor called after me before I could disappear behind the door. "You should call Maria."