Ring of Madness

by Royden Labrosse

  Well, nobody pulled his tongue.

  * * *

  Valentine loaded us both into his Jeep - me in the front seat, Leshka in the back - and threw us out of our seats.

  - Hey, you be careful, I even worried. I know that werewolves make great racers because their reaction rate is several times higher than human, but this is not a track. There's always a place in life for small pesky things, like traffic cops. Why get into their greedy legs?

  Valentin took it in and slowed it down a little. But we got to my house in record time anyway. A sack crawled out of the jeep and sprayed in the driveway. And in the apartment - fell on the carpet in the living room - and put his hands up - if you want - kill, but still can not make move.

  I didn't. Why not? Instead, I nodded at Valentine. The shape-shifter brought a bucket of water from the bathroom, a decanter and glasses from the kitchen, and took a waiting position in the computer chair. I sat down on the carpet next to the werewolf, exhaled, and put my hands firmly on his whiskey.

  Thousands of tiny hot needles have been pierced through my fingers. And when I fell on my beloved glade, I managed to grab my tail with only one thought: "Just as long as I didn't have my hands like last time. Otherwise, treat again for a month! »

  * * *

  The glade was still the same. Calm down. Quiet. Bright. Joyful and cozy. And I didn't want to leave here. I didn't want to do anything, either. But I heard a groan behind my back, and I had to turn around. Of course, Leshka. Who else could have gotten in here?

  But in what form!

  If earlier, in reality, I saw this filth as black slugs, now they were a completely different picture. Mildew. Rot. Decomposition. Bad stains. Gangrene. Mix it all in one disgusting boiler and admire the result. I was wrong in the beginning. The thing about these slugs was not to pull all the energy flows. It was spontaneous. Aura was just trying to patch up the holes.

  And the black grid?

  At a closer glance, it turned out to be simple - point to point rotting. The aura just sprawled around like an old rag in these places.

  Yeah. I've never seen one of these before. You've got to do something.

  The werewolf lay on the grass and looked at me with begging eyes. Apart from the distinctly visible aura, he looked as if he were in the real world.

  - Something serious?

  - Yes. But let's treat it, I smiled bravely. - Only if it hurts, don't complain.

  - I won't," the werewolf smiled and his lips were all white.

  We have to get through this. But how?

  Is there a prayer for the removal of mold?

  If there is, I don't know her for sure. I haven't prepared it.

  I tried touching one of the mold stains with my finger. Just to imagine what they were like. Holes in there, or something else?

  Ow!

  That fucking mold hurts!

  It's like the finger was burned with acid. But I bravely kept it in the same place. The stain tried to crawl on me, but where is it? Crawling to the middle of my finger, it sniffed as fast as I could, and slipped back. And then it tried to get away from me.

  Afraid?

  Or...

  And without even giving myself a minute to think, I covered a nasty spot with my hand.

  And I woke up in my voice in pain. It was awfully unpleasant. It was like my hand had gotten into concentrated acid. Or something else that's just as corrosive. Well, that's okay. I can do this. And I covered the second stain with my other hand.

  Breaking yourself is easy and terrible.

  Let him go, let him go.

  No good, no evil, please.

  Go away. Go away forever.

  Disappear, dissolve in the blink of an eye.

  You have no place on this earth.

  I won't let you ruin people.

  I'm still stronger.

  And my strength is not of good or evil.

  I'm strong because I stand alone in front of you.

  Alone - but my loved ones are behind me now.

  They hope for me, and I can't leave...

  Let him go. Let him go. I stand in your way.

  And the two of us will never get through here.

  I whispered the first thing that came to my mind, and I guided my hands through Leshkina aura. And I covered one "slug" after another. They fought, tried to clump in a pile, crawl away, but I bravely caught them - one by one - and squealed that there is strength. It felt as if you were grabbing a living slug.

  A few minutes passed, and this filth was dissolving under my hands. My fingers were pinching, come on. Wouldn't be the first time. I can do this.

  Get out of here. Spill out in the night.

  Dirty rain, in any pond...

  Get out of here! Don't bother anybody.

  Not me or him. Away.

  No one can help you.

  I'm stronger. There are hundreds of poisonous snakes.

  The tremors of the earth are terrible.

  Deadlier than a hurricane in the distance.

  This is just my fight.

  For those who must love.

  To laugh, to rejoice, just to live.

  Go away forever. Go away forever.

  The words helped somehow. Everything here helped me. I whispered, and the air rustled, the grass rustled, the trees drove, generously sharing power with me. And it became calm and cozy. Even when my hands were burning with fire. Here I am at home.

  How long has it been? How long? Not long?

  I didn't know.

  But Leszka was as clean as fresh snow. And I kind of pulled him back into reality.

  Crazy to stay in the glade. To lie down directly in the high grass, to watch the sunny heads of dandelions shake in the wind - and do nothing. Don't think about anything. But I knew you couldn't. Now I've put a lot of effort into it. If I stay here, recovery will go much slower. And if I crawl in here in the end wounded and weakened, it'll just kill me.

  It won't even kill.

  I'll just stay here forever. I'll grow up. I'll let go of the roots. And I'll look at another wizard coming to the forest lake a hundred years later. Rustle the leaves and pull the branch hands. You can't say I'm afraid of that prospect. In death, it's the unknown that scares me. Or the fact that we'll be gone later. Why should I be scared? It'll still be me. I just don't care about anything anymore.

  Fine! This is no time for such thoughts!

  I packed up, and I fell into reality.

  We were lying on the carpet. The two of us. And even in the hug. My hands were very intimate on the werewolf's body. One was on my shoulder. The other one, I squeezed his wrist tightly. And I pulled it out. I mean, it was in the glade, behind me. And here, just on myself. Oh, yeah.

  I immediately loosened my fingers and fell off.

  Someone (Valka, of course) cleverly lifted me up from the carpet - and a healthy cup of strong and sweet tea was brought to my lips. I threw it down my throat, burned my tongue, and asked for more.

  Got another cup, drank a little slower and winked at the werewolves.

  - You guys drag me into the bedroom and I won't hold you anymore. The door will slam perfectly on its own. I'll sleep - and I'll crawl to Mieczysław with my report tonight.

  - You call me, I'll come get you.

  Valentin picked me up and dragged me into the bedroom. I took a breath. If it had been Danielle...

  Well, it didn't hurt much, though. It's good to suffer when you're full, sleepy and happy with life. That's how different aristocrats are. Why were suicides popular with them? They had nothing to do, that's all. They got sick. Lives some kind of fief or... What do you mean, like a man? Fife? Fifun? A chiffon? Oh, never mind. And he's got everything, including mare's milk and lamp shorts. What else can I get you? Adrenaline, obviously. Nervous tickles. So much for duels and suicides. Why haven't there been any suicides among gangsters, beggars, thieves... or even poor neighborhoods?

  Cause...

  When you spend all day sewing for a pile of bread - and you think
what to feed the children - there is no time to think. It's work.

  What's my point?

  And the fact that I haven't been able to suffer either. I fell asleep or, more accurately, passed out before my head touched the pillow.

  * * *

  Pissed, pissed, pissed, delightful pissed, flowing to me, filling me...

  This creature does not even remotely resemble a human. And his thoughts go in other ways. Now the only thing that matters to him is that he is not in the flow of life energy coming from all sides.

  I'm so glad I managed to spread the tapes...

  A tiny piece of pussy from every person who's been hit by my tentacles will now be hit by my pussy. I have a lot to give back... I've lost a lot of sssssh time...

  With a little bit of pussy, I'll be able to make a pass at the current owner of my prison.

  I want to be free...

  Pissed, pissed, pissed...

  Ahssssssssssss!!!

  A sharp pain pulls the creation out of the warm stream of arriving force. Sharp - and completely unexpected. After all, his tentacles are his particles. And they are almost as invulnerable as their master. What must be done to cut them off? Destroy them physically?

  The creature used to be convinced it was impossible.

  Apparently, people were able to learn something new?

  But how? Are there any other wrestlers with such things as being? Impossible! Or is it still possible?

  Who dared!? How dare you!?

  I will find this man! And he'll pay me my pain!

  Chapter 4.

  Offers you can't refuse... but you can turn away.

  I was woken up by a frankly Grizzly phone call.

  Nasty and rattling, he pulled me out of oblivion like a carrot from a bed. I scolded and opened my eyes.

  I'm fully clothed. I'm lying on my bed. Yeah. The last thing I remember is a Valka dragging me into my bedroom. Well, then there's no need to worry about honor. The scariest thing my buddy could do... I turned my eyes down - yeah!

  My shoes were brazenly taken off. And they left my tights. And they twisted like a corkscrew.

  The phone kept busting.

  I crawled out of bed, spanked into the corridor and barked from my soul (and my soul was like a hangover):

  - Yes!?

  - Julia? Good evening!

  - Not Good evening, but Leoverinskaya, - I ran over. And then I ID'd Rokin's voice on the tube. But I didn't apologize. Could a girl have critical days? I mean, the days when the boiling point of the soul reaches a critical point.

  Rokin was silent for a second, and then he gently said it:

  - Julia, are you going to a lecture?

  Ugh! I didn't even notice the elephant! I mean, I buried it and I forgot. But not that IPF animal to lie still where it belongs.

  And we have to go.

  - I'm gonna go," I whispered. - What time is it?

  - Half an hour before the lecture," Rokin told me in a sneaky way.

  - Then I won't go. I still don't have time.

  It was not possible to stop the IPPF with such a trifle.

  - I'll pick you up right now.

  - When's that?

  - In ten minutes, be ready.

  And that bastard hung up.

  I was rushing around the apartment, but then I waved and calmed down. I couldn't take a shower in ten minutes anyway. So there's no point in changing, either. Wash up?

  I looked in the mirror.

  It's a good thing I'm not dyeing. Almost. Okay, I'll let my eyes down with a pencil, that's it. Reflected in the mirror encountered a monster with healthy bruises under the eyes, hollow cheeks and a crooked grin in half a muzzle (lipstick was superfluous, do not forget to change the pillowcase on the pillowcase) could bring to neurosis anyone. So what? All saints like to repeat that the main thing in a woman is not the external beauty, but the inner content.

  Beautiful! Let them confirm their words with action!

  I just managed to change my pantyhose, erase my lipstick and have a cup of tea as the door rang. I had to open it.

  Rokin was standing on the doorstep, elegant as a lop-eared Scottish cat. A gray striped suit and an unbridledly expensive tie made him look like some kind of sir and peer.

  It just didn't look like I was in the background. Yeah, well, my hair was barely sleek, I wasn't even talking about my hair - just as long as I wasn't standing there, my face was tired, my suit was chewing like a herd of cows, and a healthy scratch was found on one of my shoes. There was no time to grease it. Neither was her desire. But there was a desire to chew up this piece of sausage, come back - and cut off the next one.

  Rokin looked closely at me and shook his head.

  - Yulia... you're wrong...

  - Fuck you... to the left, I spilled myself. - I haven't slept in three hours today, so either I go like this or you go with your lecture...

  Rokin decided not to wait for the address to unfold. IPFovets picked me up under his elbow, bumped my purse from the hanger and dragged me to the car. The door received a farewell kick with his foot - and slammed silently. Oh, yeah.

  I read that in a decent society, doors don't open with your feet. What does it say about closing doors?

  * * *

  In the car, Rockin still ran over me.

  - Yulia, did you sleep in that suit or what?

  - Five points and first prize for guessing! Sleeping. And I'd be sleeping now! Do you have any water?

  The sausage was raw smoked. And very spicy. So you should have eaten it before tea, not after. Shit! If I'd stayed home, I'd be drinking broth now and chewing diet chicken. I want to go home!

  Rokin gave me a bottle of Holy Spring.

  I threw it out in two sips - and only then I was able to pay attention to the other inhabitants of the car.

  Except for the two of us there was a chauffeur - a silent guy in his twenties. And a good gray gentleman with such a righteous face that my subconscious was sirened. Even in movies such "classic impoverished noblemen" sometimes turn out to be the last bastards. And in life...

  - How are you feeling, Julia Yevgenyevna? - The gentle sang of the noble, turning from the front seat - and getting into my face with icy eyes. - I see that you have serious energy exhaustion?

  His eyes were faded green, cold and very... detached. That's like a healthy varan that warms up on a rock. It's either gonna bite or it's gonna bite his finger. And with his hand he will chew off his hand. But he disgusts you anyway, and he doesn't care about your life.

  It lasted only for a couple of seconds, during which he literally scanned me, and then a gentle face blurred in a smile - and indifference was like wiping a wet rag like chalk from a board. But it was already too late. I got up and got ready to sell my hide dearly.

  - It's okay. You still have my strength," I whispered as I moved away from Rokin. I haven't had enough shots yet. They're poisoning me again...

  - I have no doubt, Yulia Yevgenyevna. My name is... you can call me Father Pavel.

  - Okay. Batko Pavel, what did you want from me?

  Sounds like an innocent question. If you ask it, don't slip onto an alternative vision that allows you to see auras.

  What an ugly aura he has. A mixture of brown, green, yellow... all of which are enough dirty shades. And black spots. Nasty black spots on the aura. A large mixture of brown-red, a kind of dried blood color, didn't add any beauty either. I-asso. Another official of the religion. Who would sift them out? Or at least shoot them off?

  - Personally, nothing. Just Konstantin drove me to a lecture by the esteemed pastor Michael, and I had to pick you up on the way. So we met.

  If I hadn't seen his aura, I wouldn't have thought in my life that I was lying. But I did. That's why the creature (creature - from the word "creature") caused me another acute attack of spying.

  - Don't you have your own car?

  - My daughter, I don't need anything beyond what's necessary.

  He turned his hand, dull evening light grabbe
d for a moment a well-groomed brush with polished nails, shone expensive watch...

  - Yeah. Do manicures, pedicures and Rolex come in here? Don't make a crocodile laugh, his stomach hurts. You're like an odalisque, like me. Make-up may come off, but if you open your mouth and start moving, you'll be exposed in no time.

  - It's all just donations from the parishioners, my daughter...

  - Yeah, especially the pedicure...

  - I don't see anything wrong with that little thing. If God created man in his likeness, it is a sin to keep what is received in mud and neglect.

  Awesome! Anything can be matched under this comb! At least a pedicure, at least a miniskirt! But without me.

  - That's certainly true," I succumbed. - May I ask you one important question? That's exactly the question. About what god gave us.

  - Of course, Julia. We'll be happy to answer - it's important to nod pop.

  Okay. You're going to be happy!

  - Exactly you have celibate?

  - Yes. But what does it have...

  I didn't give him a deal.

  - Tell me, how does the church feel about IVF? I mean, the gene pool is disappearing! Why don't you at least introduce the obligation to donate genetic material? And you'll enjoy sinless and healthy children's pleasure from non-smokers and non-drinking men. If God gave you the genes, so why should you keep them in disrespect and disuse?

  Yeah. What did I say? Even the driver turned around and looked at me like I was... a crocodile out of a bra. The car was spinning, almost flattening someone's jacket.

  - Look at the road, you idiot!!! - I screamed.

  The scream shaken the churchmen. And Rokin and his ass were talking at once:

  - All kinds of in vitro fertilization - or, as you say, "in vitro" fertilization, including procurement, conservation and intentional destruction of "excess embryos" - seem morally unacceptable from the Orthodox point of view! - It's Rokin.

  - If a husband or wife is unable to conceive, and surgical and therapeutic methods of infertility treatment do not help, they should humbly accept their barrenness as a special vocation of life! In such cases, it is possible to adopt a child by mutual consent of spouses and with the blessing of their shepherd! - It is Papa Paul.

  - How do you feel about the fact that some churches actually bless people with IVF?