Ring of Madness

by Royden Labrosse

  - Why are you here and not the police?

  - Yulia, who told you that the police don't have our men?

  Ugh. I mean, you can't throw yourself at the cops. It's not good.

  I got out of the car, and I unwittingly drove. Is it cold? Yes. But not only that. It's just a nasty feeling, on the verge of consciousness...

  It's like someone's scraping away with a fork on glass. Barely heard, but it's just as disgusting. With a fork on the glass, sandpaper on the nerves... something subtle, on the very edge of consciousness - and making you listen even more...

  Charles clearly felt the same way. He kind of quietly got out of the car, offered me a hand, but under careless gestures I felt the tension of iron muscles. Dracosha did not spin his head, did not turn around, but it seemed to me that he was all strained by a tight spring, as if looking for a target. At any moment, preparing to throw himself at the target. And it didn't matter who or what it was.

  Rokin joined on the other side.

  - Julia, if you feel bad, you tell me, Charles whispered.

  - Where am I going to go?

  Okay. We have to.

  The hangar was flooded with bright light, and the whole crowd was hustling there. That's what I thought at first. Then I realized that they were well organized and everyone had their own place.

  Separately in the corner were a circle of psychics. Why them? It's just that there were both types who once tried to influence me. And the blonde guy who got a cup of tea in my face, and the bitchy painted girl... I think her name was Tatiana, and there were two men - similar as father and son. Both tall, blonde, kind of Scandinavian type. The older one, in his 50s, had a short beard, the younger one had only a mustache. Other than that, they're almost copies. Identical skinny (not to say skinny) and slightly slouch figures with long limbs, something like spiders, equally fluid straight hair, the same forehead with baldness and gray, deeply planted eyes. Except that the son was lower on his head and somehow tighter. Or was he just looking like that because his sweater wasn't big enough? Well, if they're not related...

  And they all looked remarkably shabby and wrinkled. Why? You didn't see a corpse? Or what?

  Separately, forensics blinked, gathering something from the place with tweezers and packing it in plastic bags. And separately, a cordon.

  I looked at Rokin questioningly.

  - Shall I go that way?

  I nodded at the psychics. I didn't want to...

  - I think we will," Rokin said in a sad tone. - You know, they are not the best people, but good professionals.

  I doubted it very much, but you'll get drunk out of the puddle and dry. That's not the problem. I don't think we'll get along. Even with two I've never seen before. I don't even talk about the blond and the girl. Why aren't you? And I promised my mother I wouldn't mother the wretched. If they don't go out first. And they will. And the question is, if I get in touch with them, will it do any good? No. I wanted to do it again for Tolkien. "Our welding will only make Mordor laugh." Well, how do you avoid it?

  I looked at Rokin innocently.

  - And what makes you think you need me. There are four of them. I'm one. What the hell happened?

  - It's not a big deal. It's just that everyone who came to the corpse and somehow tried to count the aura of what had happened began to throw up badly, his head broke, then vomited and diarrhea opened...

  - Rokin! - I was outraged. - Do you have any diapers!? By the way, I had a meal today!

  Konstantin Sergeyevich lowered his eyes.

  - Julia, I'm sorry, but there are no diapers. But there's a hut and even a shower. And you have experience of previous attempts. Do you want to talk to our people?

  I made up my mind. I didn't want to talk to the IPF psychics. In absolutes.

  - Can I start by looking at... the victim myself? The corpse... If it starts throwing up or anything, I'll leave. But I prefer to make my own mistakes.

  Rokin shrugged his shoulders.

  - Yulia, you've got some strong nerves, haven't you?

  - I'm not afraid of anything after your butt," I bravely assured.

  Rokin shook his head, but he didn't argue. That's right, that's right.

  The warehouse smelled like meat rows, too. But not too much. Large room volume, good ventilation - you could breathe in peace. And everything was neat enough. The criminal, whoever he was, didn't gut the victim in full, didn't drive around the whole room, didn't scatter the interior of the surroundings. It's just a lot of cuts to the body and a jeweled open chest.

  I took a few steps forward. One of the CSIs was clearly going to bark at me, but Rokin shook his head and said something. I wasn't listening. I was being pulled forward.

  - Oh, shit!

  Charles didn't hold back. Why not?

  Nothing new was here for me. The poor girl was treated alone like Lavrik. A triangle in a circle. Strange signs, the sight of which begins to cut the eyes. The same mangled corpse, the same symbols, it seems... I did not look closely at Lavric, so this symbolism to me - no place stuck. I understand that it's wrong, that if I find out what they mean, I'll understand everything else, but here - alas. The historian and geographer of me is zero. I mean, I know both in high school volume. Technically, we could have anything. At least a pharaoh mummy. And practically? It's not Moscow. It's a deaf province. And even to Kiev, we're scratching and scratching.

  So the tail is with them, with the dots and dots. It doesn't make sense to me that they don't add up. So I'm not gonna fill my head and memorize it all. So Sasha will dig up what she's going to share. Today I have to report it. And I was more concerned about the victim's face. Because that's the face I knew perfectly well. In front of me was Natasha Tikhvinskaya.

  Ugh, the abyss.

  That's all I need to get my studies involved in this! And the police!

  Not only will Alfonso push us at night (and we can't hide a thing), but during the day and the cops will rewind our nerves on a tangle in the theme: "What was the victim doing? Where did she go? Who did she meet with? ».

  Honestly, when they tried to kidnap me, it was better...

  Idiot! What am I talking about! If they try to kill me, is that better than when they try to kill others?! What if it was me lying here?! Who'd be more happy!?

  I spit and put my hands forward. Rather than theorizing a corpse, I'd rather do business. Namely, I'll see how the first body is different from the second.

  No! If I felt Lavrik in full - and instantly, now... there really was some obstacle. Like a thin film. And what is that?

  I put my palms on it, slowly drove... invisible something slightly sprung and clutched my fingers. And with some sixth instinct I knew that if I pressed it, the tape would fall under my hands. And I would get there. In a circle.

  But do we have to do this?

  It's hard to say.

  Uh, I'd like to go to my beloved clearing right now. There, among dandelions or daisies...

  You can't. You can't do it here and now. There are four psychics in here. I don't know what they can do, but they all look at me. And I don't like it very much.

  What can they see?

  What will they tell their bosses?

  It's better not to give the FPI any more information about yourself.

  I thought, and I ran my fingers on the tape. They felt a little pinched, tingled from time to time, but it didn't hurt. Okay, a little bit, a little bit. What if we did try to look at it?

  Without slipping into a trance. I've had enough of the Tokarevich. Maybe it'll work out.

  With the slightly angular look I had on the auras, I looked at the tape. Strangely, no one noticed it except me and the extrasexes. For them, it was an insurmountable obstacle. For me, a bull bubble - weave your fingers - and it'll tear. But for some reason, I didn't want to tear it up. It was insanely disgusting.

  Why do you have to leave it here?

  What did the Priest want?

  The tail knows him!

  Outwardly, this
"something" looked like a not very frequent grid with black blotches floating somewhere. The mesh was about five centimeters wide. No more. There's a way to get your hand in. Well, do you have to? Do you have to knit with these black buggies? You know, they were so nasty and... they felt like something very aggressive. Like a dog that's strong enough to rip off the leash at the neighbor's feet and fill up with evil lies.

  So are they. Until they couldn't get off the leash. But they were properly patrolling the surface of the mesh. Like they were expecting... who? Waiting for what?

  And that's when it hit me!

  That's right! They're the same sweatshirts as in the square! Which I was still cleaning off the werewolf! And if you rip that grid, it'll stick to me. Along with the blotches. And this filth will start drinking my energy. Or even my life. These blots look more aggressive, bigger and somehow predatory than the ones on the werewolf. And I strongly dislike them.

  But why are they here?

  A trap?

  So what does that mean?

  Yes! The brain worked with amazing clarity and clarity.

  There are two options.

  One is bad. The Priest knows I exist from somewhere. Okay. It doesn't have to be about mine. But about the existence of a man who has the power to destroy part of his "blot." And the trap is set specifically on these "especially active." Well, maybe? Yes, it is.

  The second one's better. The blots were giving their energy somewhere and somehow. The kind that people pulled out of them. Or maybe they're pulling it out now. Who knows... That's not what matters! What's important is that the unknown Priests just don't have enough energy. And he tries to get it all the way!

  I didn't want to help him in this good cause at the expense of myself, my love.

  I took another look at the grid.

  I really didn't like her.

  Step back?

  Surrender?

  Spit on everything and lie to Rokin. I'm not Guffy's VIP team, I don't have to be able and able to do everything.

  I don't have to. Okay.

  But this is Natasha Tikhvinskaya. She's my classmate. She's my classmate.

  I never liked her. I thought she was an arrogant fool and a bitch. I fought with her and almost fought. I couldn't do without our fight for a week in school.

  And now she's dead.

  She lies on this dirty floor next to all kinds of construction rubbish, and her blood flowed through the chalk triangle. Her chest had been opened, and her strength and perhaps her soul had served as food for some creature.

  She could have lived happily ever after. About fifty years old. She'd fight with me, then graduate from college, get married, get a job, have children...

  She'll never have that. She'll never have it now.

  She won't even have a normal death.

  I don't know where people go. And I don't know what happens to us out there. But I do know one thing for sure. It's no good to die like this. And if I didn't care about Lavric...

  And I don't even care three times!

  Yes! That's me! I'm not a fighter for the rights of the wrong! Moreover, I sincerely believe that even without Lavrik there will be enough pop singers on our stage. In your eyes and for your eyes! And I don't want to seem better. Lavric was no one for me. I didn't know him. And I wasn't caught in his death. I'm sorry, when Alfonso comes, Lavric, with all his deaths and riddles, the place crawls so quickly to the hundredth! And I don't feel sorry for the pop singer. I'm sorry. Who's to say it's bad?

  A lot of people.

  I know this point of view is condemnable...

  Oh, something's got me rhyming... this area is called the water area...

  In my mind, I realize that Lavrik is also human. That he has parents, there are people who love him, those who are waiting for him and who he will never return to... No way.

  But with intelligence. And so...

  I don't care about Lavric.

  But I was really caught up in Natalia's death.

  Yeah, she and I never got along.

  But this is my town! It's not my friend! And I'm supposed to deal with her, not some otherworldly shit!

  And as soon as I find this shit, I'm her... I'm her...

  The word definitely wasn't enough. And the ones that turned under your tongue were from your grandfather's favorite folklore.

  I took a deep breath. I exhaled.

  You can get away. Get your hands off me, and don't mess with this crap. Nobody's gonna judge me. No one will ever. Because only I will know.

  I'll know.

  I scolded myself with a fool, pulled my jacket down, and gently slipped my hands through the narrow boxes.

  The IPF is lucky that their psychics aren't too strong. If they were strong, they'd be dead. They'd have gotten in, ripped, picked up, and most likely thrown off their legs. And so for them, this grid is irresistible. For me, it's overwhelming, but why bother? We just have to see if she'll go for the corpse or not. If she does, you don't have to worry. If not, we should put it away after all. Few people will come in here, few things and how...

  Although I strongly suspect that this trap is directed at psychics. And people without much talent will walk through it like a cobweb. And they won't even notice.

  We'll have to check. Later. In the meantime...

  Let's see how the aura of the second corpse (I deliberately did not think of it as Natasha, it was much easier this way) is different from the aura of the first.

  At first glance, nothing. It's the same void. Absolute. It's clean. It's clear.

  I'd say sterile. A surgeon has more bacteria on his scalpel than a corpse of energy.

  Is there any residual energy in space?

  I squinted and looked around.

  No, it's not.

  I mean, they're not even there. The energy was absorbed like water in a dry sponge. I looked closely at the hangar. Zero. People were shining with auras. The psychics glowed a lot brighter. It was the girl who was the brightest. And by hair color - now fiery red - and by aura. Behind her - a blonde (eh. You should have put a kettle of boiling water on him then - and add a chair!). And then Dad and his son. Little bipod, crawling louse. They even had auras similar in color. Here they were bright.

  And all the space around it is dull.

  I was looking at the body.

  The body was empty.

  And also, no spatter of energy, nothing...

  It's empty.

  I pulled my hands out of the mesh.

  - Julia? - brunette's voice, which is already a redhead, violated my concentration. I moved my hand a little harder - and I realized that... I was hitting one of the black spots!

  - Your infusion! - I gave it to you.

  The stain touched my wrist, grabbed it and...

  I cried out in pain.

  For a man who doesn't feel, who doesn't see, it would be just bad luck. And I knew what was going on. I literally felt a nasty blot soaked in the streams of my aura. I've never seen the aura itself, it's impossible. No one can see their aura. But I saw the blot, and with all my skin, I could feel the filthy creature's intent was to squeeze everything under its... teeth?

  She doesn't have any teeth!

  But what's there is enough for me!

  I ripped my hands out of the mesh. It doesn't matter anymore. Whether I rip it off or not, whether it sticks or not, it's important that I get rid of this shit as soon as possible!

  The cold crawled from the right hand to the heart. Slow, unhurried, sharp, as if shards of ice and glass had floated along the veins. And I knew what it was.

  This is not an attempt to gain strength. It's a trap.

  It's a trap for people like me. Who will not be careful enough to do such foolishness - touch the net.

  Damn that painted dope!

  When the cold comes to my heart, I will die. I'll just die.

  Well, no!

  I am strong! And not some nasty thing to eat me up!

  I already destroyed those blots! It's gonna be a l
ittle harder now, because I'm an operating field. But not much! I can do it! I know what they're afraid of!

  With one move, I covered the black blot with my left hand. And I tried to remember how I fought that abomination on the back. My fingers got warmer as usual. There was no fire yet, but I knew it wouldn't take long.

  - I'm stronger than you! Go away!

  If Charles hadn't picked me up, I'd have collapsed on the hangar floor.

  The sensation has become simply intolerable. And it seemed to me that my right hand was crushed by a huge iceberg of ice, breaking bones and turning muscles into bloody mucus. Blood flowed from the bitten lip.

  I won't make it. It's set up and set up specifically for people like me. To clean it up, I have ten minutes to work. And he kills me for two minutes. It's only two minutes...

  The decision was, as always, absurd. I abruptly ran my hand across my face, collecting blood drops from my chin.

  And she put the blot on again. But already, with a bloody hand.

  - You're strong. But against your blood, your voluntary blood, your human blood you won't stand! By your blood, by your strength, by your life, go away, disappear! Dissolve yourselves! Go away!!!

  The pain ripped her hand with her icy teeth. But this time I didn't back down.

  I couldn't see my aura. But I could see the blur begin to dissolve and fall off. And the black stripes, coming from it in different directions, dissolve like traces in the sand, which are blurred by the tide.

  I once again walked my hand down my chin, and a new batch of my blood went to the scruff.

  - I am a human being. And I'm stronger! Stronger, because at any moment I'll give my life for my loved ones! For what's dear to me. And you are nothing but dirt and bending! And I'm going to destroy you and your master," I whispered.

  The blot was squirming. The pain didn't stop, but now that I knew it was just a dying cramp, it was even pleasant. Okay, then. It wasn't nice. But I couldn't stand it without screaming.

  It was with sadistic pleasure that I watched the blot thin and clenched it shrink. How it dissolves and disappears. And then I put my other hand on my chin. And decisively stepped back to the net.

  Well, I took a step-- that was loud. Charles was holding me almost on weight. So I was more likely to be brought up. And I stared at the net.