Ring of Madness

by Royden Labrosse

  - No. It's a possible prospect. That's how Andre thought he was immortal, but what did he end up with? But I don't insist on necessarily turning my brother into a wolf. If you want, I'll talk to any other pack. They'll be happy to welcome my brother into their ranks. And they'll get all the bonuses for it. I won't deny the women of your pack help, but you won't come first anyway. Is that clear? I only asked Valentine because he helped me and I treat him well. And how do you feel about him? You personally, Michael? Are you just a petty bent or do you want to challenge the leader?

  Lisa giggled when she evaluated the size of the crap I offered. The duel would definitely be suicide for Teddy bear. And to say no... But the Wolpe didn't even notice the trap.

  - A fight? What do you mean?

  - So you're just a little scandalist? Well, Valentin, we have a delegation from Tula arriving soon. If any of your wolves are dissatisfied with your politics, just give us a hint. I will speak to the Prince of Tula. I suppose they'll be quickly weaned from the democratic shenanigans there.

  I turned around and went back to the tree. Lisa stood by my hand and helped me climb upstairs. Valentin was smiling with a smile. Mikhail stood like vinegar drunk. So his... A pack of wolves is not parliament! And whoever gets a divorce vote here, I'll kill him myself... oh! Did I say that?

  Well, even if I thought about it...

  Deep down, a woman with beastly eyes smiled eccentricly. She was very pleased with me.

  * * *

  The discussion died before it began. Michael crawled back into the shade, and Valentine loudly asked who else wanted to speak on the subject. There were no one else who wanted to speak.

  The second part of the Marlezonian ballet was even more interesting. Slava was pushed into a circle. He was pale, but tried not to show fear. Well, my grandfather put something into it. If my brother started whining and whining, I would not forgive him in life.

  - Do you agree, Stanislav Evgenyevich Leoverensky, to become a wolf of a pack of Bloody Claws?! - Valentin asked loudly.

  - I agree.

  - Are you making a promise of good will?

  - Yes, I do.

  - You're not forced by fear or temptation?

  - No, I'm not.

  - Are you aware of the responsibility of your decision? You'll never be human again. You'll be dependent on the moon. You'll live with us all in the same pack and hunt with us. Our friends will be your friends, our enemies your enemies.

  - I know that.

  - Do you realize that werewolves have many enemies? We're not peaceful bunnies who tolerate everything they do to them. We kill in response to insult and we will kill. People and non-humans.

  - I... understand.

  It was obvious that Slava didn't like the idea of killing a man, but he held on.

  - Do you realise that by becoming a wolf, you enter a narrow circle of people? We are few, and we are in constant danger. We are hunted like beasts, sometimes we are treated like animals. Our world is ruled by power and blood. And if you enter it, you have no way back.

  - I understand.

  - Do you still want to be a wolf?

  - I do.

  - I confirm your decision.

  Valentine picked up his palms and started changing. His hands turned wool, stretched out, changed shape, his claws sparkled. It looked amazingly spectacular. It wasn't like a movie, where a werewolf can't turn into a movie without filling up the space around his innermost being. What is it that American directors think? It's terribly impractical, isn't it? And nature doesn't tolerate a useless show-off.

  Slava was as pale as chalk and seemed to be dreaming of escape. He couldn't. His legs grew into the ground out of fear. I could feel his fear with the pack. At the very tip of his tongue. Sharp, slightly mustardy, like the blood of a beast that had just been killed...

  - I, Valentin, the leader of the flock of Bloody Claws, by right of blood, by right of strength, by right of word, accept you, Stanislav, into our flock.

  Valentin put his paws together and slightly moved his claws. Blood appeared on his left paw. Hot, thick, a little sweet, like any other blood of creatures possessing...

  force

  . And the next moment, before the wound closed, Valentin rinsed Slava on his chest with his claws, leaving wide and painful wounds. Blood was spurting out.

  The brother screamed.

  Weak! Don't fall, but a strong tungsten, moreover, he'll never be. This creature is unworthy of the pack, but at least it won't make it weaker. How dare he disgrace our family?! I could bear it all without screaming and moaning!

  - With my blood, your blood, the blood of the pack, the power of the moon, and my power as leader, I call on your beast, Stanislav.

  Slava's body trembled and began to change, as if someone had crushed a lump of plasticine in a handful. On a skin streamed thick golden-red fur, the face stretched forward, legs and hands turned out ... to stand it obviously was difficult, and it has fallen to knees, a muzzle has leaned on a breast.

  - Your blood is our blood. Your power is our power. Your will is our will. Your prey is our prey. Your pack is our pack. From now on, may it be so forever.

  And Slava bent on the ground to rise from it. But he's already a fox.

  Light golden and red, with a luxurious white bucket and white paws. The fox in the hill took Valentine to his waist.

  Valentine threw his head down and made a strange sound, something in between coughing, howling, and yawning.

  Strange?

  He wasn't.

  The leader calls his pack.

  The wolves would kneel down and start to change. Somebody had time to drop their clothes, somebody didn't. The shreds of pants and shirts were flying all over the glade.

  At the same time, Valentine himself began to change. But he was doing it much better than Slava. The thick shiny red fur just swirled the werewolf like butter. The change went so easily that I was even jealous. It's going to be much harder for me to change like that...

  It's night. The forest. But the eyes of the tungsten can see everything. They notice the light swaying of the grass, the rustling breeze in the trees' crowns, the stomping of the mouse's legs slipping between the grasses and the pushing of air from the soft wings of an owl diving for prey. The ears can hear the grasses grow quietly. The paws move quietly so that no one, even the most sensitive dog, can move his ear. On a night like this, the night of the full moon, everything is allowed. To run and play... To hunt and sneak an imperceptible shadow... To dance and love each other under the moon... It's a terrific feeling to run in front of the pack and look at the golden disc of the moon. Our nightly sun...

  Ow!

  A sharp pain in my hand led me out of oblivion. And in my butt, too. Lisa, who stayed next to me, just pulled me down, desperate to get attention. She couldn't bite: if she had given me lycanthropy, Valentine would have made the first of her mincemeat. So the fox did a simple thing. She grabbed my hand with her teeth, trying not to bite my skin, and stole it. Hence the pain in my hand. And in my butt, which I slammed very unpleasantly on the ground.

  But I came to my senses.

  Oh...

  Night sunshine? Does it feel amazing? Does it taste like blood? Shame on the family? Would I reschedule the initiation in silence?!

  Your zebra!

  I was just caught by the edge of werewolf magic. I don't know exactly how or why. Either because of vampires or because of the blood we share with Slava. In vampire and werewolf magic, a lot of things are built on blood rituals. That's what I was just getting at. And I even knew exactly what Valentine did. Usually werewolves turn into full moons. If a person is accidentally infected, bitten, or scratched, they can only turn into next month. But the delegation is waiting for us the day after tomorrow. And part of it is tomorrow night, too. If not on this full moon, then never. So Valentine did the only thing he could do: In the circle of the pack he infected (initiated?) Slava with his blood and almost forcibly summoned his beast. That's why the fox had tu
rned out to be inferior. Far from being a prima. Not ripe and not developed. Although it is a matter of time. As I understand it now, already human, not greedy and not animal mind, Slavkin fox can grow up.

  I looked at Lisa. Is there a chestnut fox in nature? And the tail knows her. But Lisa was like this - a golden-chestnut fox, with a luxurious bucket and powerful paws, about my waist height. Not very big, but strong and wiry, even in my opinion unprofessional.

  - And why aren't you with everyone?

  The fox... yawned. Then she grabbed the edge of my clothes with her teeth and pulled.

  - Did Valentin order me to go? Thank you, I won't get lost myself.

  That was pure truth. With the remains of fox magic and a pack gut I'd be out of the Siberian taiga now. But it was useless to explain it to Lisa. She yawned again with such an intonation that I felt ashamed. In human terms it was: "Yeah, I'll believe you'll get lost, and I'll be skinned as souvenirs? Have a conscience!"

  I had a conscience, I think... so I got up, shook off and followed the fox.

  Lisa was walking slowly, looking back at me all the time. And it wasn't superfluous at all. Sitting in a tree was easy for me. And now...

  Anastasia's treatment, i.e. an attempt to make sure that she does not miscarry, was not in vain. That's for sure. But then...

  Roughly speaking, if you pour a bucket of water over a thirsty person's head, it will not be better for him. I exhausted all my strength, I was actually dehydrated, and then I was covered with the magic of the pack. And I wasn't allowed to be absent. Now I knew I was closing the circle, too. I am Slavkina's native blood, I am connected to vampires, and those are werewolves. And it finally exhausted me. I was dizzy, nauseous, my teeth whining as if someone had fed me a kilo of chocolate. My muscles were sore and twitching, cramping. But I had to move my legs.

  If I crash on the trail now, Lisa can't carry me. She's a fox, not a horse. That's a shame.

  A horse would have been fine.

  It was only at the exit of the forest that I realized there was no one to take me home. I don't drive, and driving wouldn't help. To let me out on the road in this condition? You'd better kill me right away.

  But this problem was solved much easier. Vadim was waiting for me on the road.

  - Hello, - I puked.

  The vampire gazed at me and in one movement bumped the fox's skin.

  - What have you done to her, fang faces?! - he roared as if he was tearing poor Lisa off the ground. - Have you forgotten who's the boss in town?! I'll let you all on your collars!

  - Vadim...

  I could not drag him away, but it is beautiful (or not very, well, sorry, acting courses did not finish) to slide to the ground - it worked for me.

  Vadim immediately left the fox and picked me up. Lisa, do not be stupid, decided that it is fine to do without her, and blew into the thicket, only the tip of the tail flicked. Vadim gave him a dreary look - apparently, he was sorry for the lost collar.

  - What have they done to you here?!

  - I turned out to be a fool myself," I confessed.

  - I'm ready to believe that. And what were you stupid about? - Vadim put me in the front seat of a healthy trolleybus-type jeep. Yes, we share a love for big cars. I love cars that fit everything and a little bit more, too. And you can sit here with your legs stretched out freely. And to lie down too.

  A vampire buttoned up his seat belt and pulled him to check his strength.

  - I won't fall out.

  - I'm worried about you, you fool! So what did you do with werewolves?

  It took me five minutes to tell you briefly how I treated Nastia for a miscarriage...

  felt .

  a flock of how I wanted to run and whine with everyone...

  Vadim thought of my words for twenty minutes. We had already moved into town when he was born.

  - Yulia, this is all very serious.

  - You bet it is. Especially with the aura? Probably with an aura, if that's what I saw.

  - Maybe it is.

  - What do you know about an aura? You gonna tell me?

  - That's not even enough for 24 hours.

  - What if in a nutshell? Well, what is it and what is it eaten with?!

  - If only a little bit. Color is light. And light is a manifestation of consciousness. Well, roughly speaking, do you remember the Bible?

  - I don't remember it.

  - And the beginning? Let there be light?

  - Yes, it is.

  - That's it. We're surrounded by flowers we can't see, just like there are sounds we can't hear or thoughts we can't catch. Humans are generally limited by a narrow range of perception. In vampires, it's a little wider, in werewolves it's even wider, and only when they're in animal form. In fact, if people suddenly saw...

  all

  colors as they should be seen, they'd go crazy. And so would we vampires. Color can be cured, can be maimed, can do anything to a human. Five hundred years before Christ's birth, Pythagoras, the first philosopher, used color for therapeutic purposes. Imagine, there was no Bible either, but he already knew about colors and their effects... And he was curing. Now medicine has only found the edge of the healing effect of color.

  - That's great. But what does that have to do with one thing? I don't need to talk about colors, I'm an artist myself. I'd like to talk about auras! And you can hang on to Nadia about the treatment. She's our future doctor...

  - And that's where it goes. Aura is a consequence, not a reason. Every atom, every molecule, every compound of atoms and molecules, whether large or small, simple or complex, creates certain vibrations, if it is more convenient for you, electromagnetic waves. And these waves can be read by colors and shades. Colour is the result of these interactions, but we can see it. When a person's soul develops, grows up, walks through life, it changes and transforms as it uses or abuses the opportunities it presents. Thus, at any time and in any world with its emanations, the soul gives out what it is in. And if another consciousness can catch and understand these vibrations, it will know everything about the person it reads: who it is, what it wants, what it hurts, how to influence it...

  Some kind of universal tool.

  - Mm-hmm. And the impact?

  - Well, it's more complicated than that. You see, when you see an aura, you see a man as he is, though without some particulars. I'm sure it's reflected in the aura, you just have to be able to read it. It's like reading: somebody has dyslexia, somebody can only read printed and capital letters, and somebody quietly takes apart the written text. The more experience you have, the better you can determine a person's character and problems by their aura - by the intensity of colors, their distribution and position. The Aura comes from the whole human body, but usually it is denser and more visible around the shoulders and head, perhaps because this part of the body is where our mind is located. The thicker the hue of this or that colour, the stronger this property is expressed. For example, bright red people are always self-centered. And Christ, they say, shone white. But the basic colour changes in process of development or fading of consciousness. The colour of the aura changes especially strongly before the impending death, but then grandmother said.

  - Why?

  - Because the prophets aren't okay. You see, then you have to admit that a person - or at least his aura - knows in advance about impending death.

  - Isn't that right?

  - That's... controversial. Any system seeks self-preservation. If a man feels his death, he can escape it.

  - My grandfather used to say that it's happened in war. Someone smelled it, tried to escape, and it still caught on.

  - I don't know. It's hard for me to say, I'm not an expert. Vampires don't belong in headquarters or on shelves.

  - Well, that's too bad. What a landing party!

  I imagined an army of vampires sneaking into enemy headquarters at night, seducing sentry, seducing a nurse, stealing a safe with secret documents, snacking on a general... and giggling quietly. Vadim shook his head
.

  - Paranorms are beyond human politics. We're already too few.

  - I know all of us. Is there anything you can tell me about the colors of the aura?

  - No.

  - Why not?

  - We've already arrived. If you want, ask the chief. And I don't want to get caught in the handout for "unjustified delays."

  I took a breath. We were really parked in front of the Three Sixes, and the idiot name was glowing red neon. I tried to resist.

  - How about we go home?

  - Julia, you have no choice. Don't put off what's going to go out the day after tomorrow.

  And you won't argue. And it will go out, and it stinks. I grabbed my teeth and jumped out of the car. It's better to show up at the vampire's den now. Don't put off what you can do the day after tomorrow, right? That's usually what I do. I don't pay for my phone, my receipts are a mess, and I teach tickets about a day before my exam. But you can't do that to vampires. The longer you put off your visit, the angrier they'll be. And an angry vampire is a sight for sore spirits. I can afford it, and Mecislav will not kill me. But he'll come up with so many nasty things I never dreamed of. Anyway, don't provoke me, and you won't get it in your ears. Observe safety regulations when dealing with vampires. The institute teaches us how to wear a gas mask and where to run in case of fire or terrorists. You shouldn't. Sometimes I think that "basics of life safety" should be replaced by "basics of psychology of communication." The benefits will be much greater.

  We've got to get to the bottom of this.

  * * *

  The spy looked up at the dark sky and smiled. It was good and easy for him. Everything went the way he thought it would. It never occurred to anyone to suspect him. It was funny how easy it was to rub it in the trust of these suckers. A couple of pitiful stories, a beautiful story about their suffering, that's all. Everybody feels sorry for him and is willing to do anything to make him feel comfortable. Well, the spy was ready to use it.

  And first of all to destroy - or at least try - that arrogant bastard of Leoveren! People like Julia have always annoyed the spy. They were pissed off. Caused rage. I just wanted to tear the scum apart with my bare hands.

  For what?! For everything!