Half an hour of trying to present their case was clearly not enough for the ghosts. With the way they were yapping, shouting over each other, even an entire hour might have fallen short. It was pure chaos. If only more people could hear them, the entire neighborhood would be roused from sleep.
In the end, three figures stood before us: a brooding young man with a short, spiky haircut and the left side of his face completely severed; a stout, pompous fellow radiating self-importance; and a chattering woman who never once paused her loud, shrill monologue.
I dismissed the woman almost immediately. First, she was intruding on our conversation, meddling where she wasn't wanted. Second, I still carried the bitter aftertaste of Claudia, one that wouldn't fade anytime soon, not even after a triple serving of chocolate cake.
Alexey was in complete agreement with me. Whenever he recalled the old woman and those two weeks spent wandering through the archives, he'd start hiccupping uncontrollably. Without Faust, we would have succumbed to the insanity of boredom.
As for Dorian, he said that, back home, he'd lock such women in his basement for three hundred years, then another three hundred, just to be sure they learned their lesson. How he managed to do that, I had no idea.
Did he somehow extend their lives? Or was it just a matter of his own peculiar methods?
Before wasting time on the remaining two, I cut straight to the point, asking what they could offer us in exchange for help.
The first to speak was the stout man. He revealed himself to be a former merchant, who, long ago, engaged in the fur trade in Belozersk. In return for assistance, he could offer us money. A great deal of gold, he claimed. So much gold that our children and grandchildren wouldn't have to work a day in their lives.
Not particularly interesting.
Next.
The brooding fellow looked to be around twenty-five, maybe a touch older. Judging by his clothes, he'd only recently passed from this world. There was something strange about him, something that tugged at the edges of reason, but not enough to persuade me he had anything of real value for us. Or maybe I was just being biased. Perhaps luck had finally smiled on us. In just a few minutes, we might part ways, Alexey would head home, and I could finally lie down in blessed solitude and get some much-needed rest.
"Once, I was a monster hunter," he announced when it was his turn to speak. "I died seven years ago. Or, more precisely, I was killed seven years ago."
A monster hunter! Now that was something else! It looked like this long, exhausting day would at least conclude with a memorable story. This guy might just have something to intrigue us with.
"Why are you squirming like you've got ants in your pants?" Alexey asked me, curious. "What's he saying?"
"He used to be a monster hunter. And his face is a bit..." I hesitated.
"All over the place."
"All over the place?" Alexey raised a brow.
"Part of it is missing." I pointed to my left cheek. "Here."
"Aha, I see. And his brains? Still where they belong, I hope?"
"Are you suddenly interested in ghost anatomy?" I asked with a half-smile.
Maybe that was Alexey's problem. He treated the whole thing like a joke. No wonder the ghosts didn't like him all that much.
"Just not keen on dealing with a fellow who's got no brains at all.
Makes for very one-sided conversations."
"They're intact, don't worry."
"So, what does he propose?"
"I want to hear that myself, but you keep distracting me."
Alexey silently raised his hands in surrender, and I turned my attention back to the curious fellow.
"What can you offer us?"
"What do you need?"
He was beginning to grow on me. I appreciated it when people didn't beat around the bush.
"Artifacts," I said. "Your friend doesn't have any."
"I do. A whole bunch of them," he replied, and a sly smile spread across his face, one that sent a sudden chill down my spine.
I'm starting to like this guy! Dorian exclaimed.
"Could you be more specific?"
"I have a secret refuge where I stayed while working as a monster hunter. There's a whole stash of stuff there," he answered with a grin. "All of it can be yours."
"There's more than just one artifact there?"
"Three. One for each of you. And if you like, you can split the third in half."
Wow! Three artifacts? That was an impressive reward. I couldn't imagine what kind of trouble he was in if he was offering such a generous payment.
He's got no other options, does he? Dorian said. It's obvious he's a psychopath.
"How do you figure?" I asked. "I sometimes think you're a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but that's another story..."
"Plus, I'll stay with you forever if you want," the strange guy said, diverting my attention from my chat with Dorian. "As an assistant."
Did... Did he just say that? As an assistant? That sounded intriguing... Very intriguing indeed... A ghost always at your beck and call...
A whirlwind of thoughts and possibilities spun through my mind, ways I could leverage him as my assistant. But there were so many options that I found myself completely overwhelmed.
"What's your name?" I asked curiously.
"Ibrahim," he replied simply. "Odd name, I know. I'm Turkish.
Well, was..."
"I see," I said with a smile. "You do bear a striking resemblance to Aladdin... Only, there's no Princess Jasmine by your side. And his hair was long. Yours is short."
"Who's Aladdin?" he asked, seriousness replacing his previous tone.
"Your friend?"
"Never mind that now." I waved dismissively. "How did you find yourself in the Russian Empire?"
"I came here to study at Black Ivy," he explained. "We have schools in the Ottoman Empire, but your system is by far the best."
"Why did you decide to stay?"
"I had my reasons," he said. "I'll tell you if you're willing to help."
"Are you a nobleman?"
"I didn't hold any official title, but I possessed a yetenek. A Gift, you call it. Perhaps one of my ancestors had a stroke of luck, because I turned out to be an excellent air elemental. A practitioner of sixth rank, practically nearing mastery. No need for formalities. I'm dead, after all."
"Understood." I nodded. "Tell me, Ibrahim, can ghosts walk freely through the Distortions?"
"No, we can't." He shrugged with a hint of regret. "We aren't able to. If only you knew how much I yearn to slice through some monster's throat or carve out something precious from a beast... To dig around in warm guts... Just thinking about it makes my fingers itch..."
It seemed Dorian was right, this guy was a psychopath. At least, he looked the part, completely unhinged, a maniac driven by bloodlust.
So, ghosts couldn't wander through the Distortions. That was unfortunate. But on the bright side, Ibrahim, being a monster hunter, was a walking encyclopedia when it came to the value of every part of a slain beast. Sure, his knowledge might have been seven years out of date, but that level of expertise was still typically reserved for the final years of study in Kitezh, and even then only for those who chose a specialized path.
He'd save us so much time and effort...
It wasn't just about selling these parts for profit. Alchemy also involved using various substances derived from different monsters. I hadn't delved deeply into these areas yet, but perhaps I should start exploring this avenue.
We could also send Ibrahim as a scout in Kitezh, to keep an eye on what was happening there while we were away...
We could send him anywhere...
"Also," he said, snapping me out of my thoughts. "You won't find a chattier monster hunter than me. We guard our professional secrets with our lives. And since I'm dead... Well..."
It was decided! What more could I possibly want from an assistant?
He's a good pick, Dorian agreed. He's definitely a bit mad, but that only makes things more interesting. He'll shake things up a bit. Finally, I won't be dying of boredom with you two...
"Okay, Alex, here's the plan..."
Having heard me out, Alexey paused thoughtfully for a moment, scratched the back of his head, then surveyed the spot where he believed the ghost was standing, and nodded.
"Not a bad deal at all... Secret stash, you say? We should go take a look..."
"Most definitely."
"Hopefully, no one's stripped it clean by now. A lot of time has passed, after all."
"It's still there, rest assured," Ibrahim said confidently, pounding his chest with his fist. "I stand by my word."
"He claims everything's intact, and his belongings are safe and sound," I said.
"That settles it then. So? What does he need from us? Last time, we bought diving suits. If he asks for a tank, I'm out."
"We're listening, Ibrahim. But don't take too long. It's already getting late."
"I won't be long, and I won't ask for anything complicated," he replied. "My request is simple. There's a guy in the city, a son of a bitch named Korovin. A filthy-rich bastard. He stole my fiancée, and I intend to settle the score. At first, I thought about slitting his throat, but that's not how things are done according to your customs."
That was a new one. Alexey and I hadn't yet tangled in love affairs.
"Just so you know, my friend and I don't have much experience in these kinds of matters."
"I can see that," he sneered, a smirk playing on his lips. "Both of you are green as grass, little nobles. I don't need much from you. Just enough to get the job done. It'll be a walk in the park for you," he said, slapping his fist into his palm and giving it a forceful twist a few times.
"Nothing complicated."
"What do we need to do?"
"He's been unfaithful to her, and she, my shining light, believes he's just staying late at work. She's trusting, my Lena... That's why I want you to make a list. Where he's been, who he's been with. I'll give you all the details. Names, addresses, dates... Let her find out the truth. I don't need anything more. That's all I ask."
The room suddenly fell silent. I was honestly taken aback. I hadn't expected this. This was straight out of a soap opera...
The naive, lovesick fool! Dorian laughed. Does he really think she doesn't know? She's sitting on millions thanks to that rascal Korovin!
Why does she care if he's having some fun on the side?
"Dorian, honestly..."
I wish Lacrimosa were here! he continued. Oh, she'd get a kick out of this.
"Calm down. What are we supposed to do? He's serious about this..."
What's there to think about? It couldn't be simpler. Just say yes.
"Hello? Max?" Alexey waved his hand in front of my face. "What are you two talking about? What kind of experience do we lack?"
I explained everything.
Alexey stared at me with his mouth agape, refusing to believe what he had just heard.
"Is he out of his mind?" he asked, just to clarify. "You said he's got brains in that head of his, but judging by what I've just heard..."
"I'm as surprised as you are. The job's pretty simple. Just print out the list, send it via a courier, and voilà. It's as straightforward as it can be.
Also, he's not from around here. Maybe this is how they do things in the Ottoman Empire."
"And what if she doesn't believe what she reads?"
I cast a questioning glance at Ibrahim.
"Your friend shouldn't worry. Allah will judge," he declared solemnly, gazing up at the ceiling.
He's out of his mind, Dorian said, and I could hear the grin in his voice.
"He says Allah will judge," I told Alexey.
He simply shrugged in response, while I once again fixated my gaze on the ghostly apparition.
"We'll take it upon ourselves to avenge your Jasmine. My name's Max Temnikov, and his is Alexey Naryshkin," I announced, glancing at the prince, who suddenly shuddered with laughter. "What are you laughing at?"
"I just imagined you with a ghostly assistant. At this rate, we're only a skeleton and a werewolf away from a Halloween ensemble."
"Well, I know where to get one of the two..."
After a few more minutes of conversation, Alexey and I parted ways, agreeing to meet again tomorrow to draft a plan of action and visit Ibrahim's secret hideout.
Tomorrow was promising to be an interesting day.
As soon as Alexey drove away, I dragged myself to the bed and collapsed onto it, driven by the desire to fall asleep as quickly as possible.
Today was exhausting. The lunch with Konstantin felt like an eternity ago...
I was sure my eyes had already closed even before I was fully under the covers, and within a minute, I was out cold, drifting into a deep, peaceful slumber.
But it didn't last long.
I was roused by Dorian's loud voice and the frantic shouts of someone unfamiliar. Still groggy, I couldn't quite make out what they were saying.
I sat up on the bed and looked around. Ibrahim's ghostly figure was standing by my bed, trying to wake me.
"Quiet down, what are you yelling for?"
"There's a car outside the house," Ibrahim said. "I went out to see who it was."
"And?"
"Do you know someone named Vigov?"
"It rings a bell."
That bastard!
I got up from the bed, padded barefoot across the cold laminate floor, and looked out the window. Not far from the porch, a sleek black SUV with heavily tinted windows was parked.
"How many of them are there?"
"Four."
"Seems they didn't get the message the first time." I moved away from the window.
"Will you help me, Dorian?"
Of course. I'll show you one of my favorite tricks. I'll tie one of the nastier memories from my old life to our ghostly friend. Let's give them a night they won't forget...
*** Meanwhile, inside the car.
Wig Jr. cast a quick glance at his subordinates, and out of habit, decided to reinforce the instructions they had just been given.
"Alright, once more, for those who weren't paying attention. Wick, you stay in the car. You'll wait patiently until we're back. Is that clear?"
Silence answered him.
"Do you understand, you idiots?"
"Yes, sir," came the unified response of his men.
"Good. Buffet, Piss, and I will head to his apartment. We'll tie him up, load him into the car, and bring him to the base. There, we'll get all the information we need. If he so much as tries to use his Gift, we end him on the spot. No second chances. Got it?"
Wig paused, rubbing his unshaven cheek thoughtfully.
"Sure, I'd like to know how he found out about my stash, or why he ratted me out to the police. But honestly, it's not worth the risk. He might look like a kid, but don't let that fool you. He's got more tricks up his sleeve than a magician. Got it?"
Once again, silence.
"Am I talking to myself, you morons? Do you understand?!"
"Yes, boss," the voices echoed back in unison.
"And you, Piss, do you get it?"
"Loud and clear, boss. The kid's a magician."
"Yeah, don't underestimate him. Did you catch the part about tying him up first?"
"Loud and clear, boss."
"Your head's got a bigger hole than your ass. Let's move out."
"Hey, boss..."
"Now's not the time, Wick."
"Boss..."
"What?!" Wig roared, spinning around to face the bleating subordinate, whose wide, terrified eyes fixated straight ahead.
Perched on the hood of the gleaming SUV was a dark, winged creature that resembled a colossal bat. It hovered there for a few tense seconds before slowly unfurling its wings and beginning to grow larger right before their eyes.
"What the hell...?" Wig muttered under his breath, staring at it in disbelief. "What in the world is this?"
Suddenly, the creature let out an ear-piercing scream, and a chilling thought seized Wig's mind.
Death itself had come for him.
"Fire! Drive, Wick!"
Gunshots erupted around them as the SUV lurched forward, streaking ahead with relentless speed. With every second, they pushed faster, the creature's wings fluttering fiercely in the wind, yet it remained stationary, unyielding.
What infuriated Wig the most was that the gunfire seemed utterly useless. The bullets flew through it as if it were made of nothing but air, as if he were firing into emptiness.
The windshield had long since shattered into a thousand tiny shards, and the icy wind slammed into his face. The creature was now almost inside the vehicle, its gaping maw open wide, ready to bite off his head in one savage snap.
At that moment, the screeching of tires pierced the air as the car collided violently with the high curb, catapulting high into the sky before crashing back down. It spun several times, finally coming to a halt, wheels pointing skyward.
Wig's face was streaked with thick, sticky blood, coating him in a glistening, crimson stream. Despite the agony, the mere thought that he was still alive sparked a flicker of hope, and slowly, he opened his eyes.
What he saw froze him in place.
Two enormous, blood-red eyes still lingered right before him in the shadows.
He let out a frantic, dog-like howl and, summoning his last ounce of strength, began to crawl out of the wreckage. His massive belly, which he had spent years growing, made this arduous task even more difficult. Yet, against all odds, he finally managed to escape.
His only hope now was to run as far away from that monstrous beast as possible.
Gasping for air, he staggered across the asphalt toward the nearest three-story building. Nearby, the distant wail of sirens could be heard.
Police! When you didn't need them, they were always there!
He turned his head to see if that terrible creature was still in pursuit, and once again, he howled in despair. It was right behind him, dragging its enormous black wings after itself. The creature itself had also become bigger. Perhaps it wouldn't be able to enter the building? Surely, it wouldn't!
Fueled by this newfound glimmer of hope, Wig hobbled toward the three-story structure and soon reached its door. He slipped inside and began ascending the staircase, one stair after another. At first glance, they didn't seem numerous, but to him, they stretched on into an infinite ascent.
With each step, his legs grew heavier, and soon, it felt as if this building was no longer three floors but a towering edifice of thirty-three, spiraling endlessly into the sky.
Unaware of how he managed it, he tore at his thick, unaccustomed fingers, scrambling up the attic ladder onto the roof, and instinctively looked down.
The creature was nowhere in sight.
But then, after a few tense seconds, he heard it. That unmistakable, nauseating rustling behind his back... That very same vile, repulsive noise that had haunted him downstairs.
Slowly, he turned his head, and spotted the creature. It was there, lurking in the shadows. He let out a blood-curdling scream and threw himself into a frantic leap downward.
A moment later, a muffled thud reverberated as his body slammed onto the asphalt below. He felt his legs crumple under the impact, and agony exploded through him as he cried out in unbearable pain.
The creature lingered on the rooftop a little longer, stomping around with a menacing, deliberate gait, and then it vanished without a trace, as though it had never been there at all.