The playground looked rather gloomy.
Autumn was fast approaching, smelling of rain and rotting leaves. The warm days would soon be over, Natalia thought. She looked around. No one had seen her; there wasn't a soul in sight. That was good. People might think all sorts of things when they saw a woman of almost thirty swinging at her best. To think that not long ago, the playground, squeezed between a crumbling middle school wall and dense undergrowth, had resounded with children's laughter... The carousel spun, propelled by tiny legs. New acquaintances were being made on the horses, and heated discussions were held
about topics that concerned children today, such as the Smurfs.
She liked to come here when no one saw her.
Something moved in the bushes. Natalia immediately stopped swinging. A moment later, a young boy, about twenty, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, emerged from the bushes. His surprised gaze swept over the bushes, the school building, and finally the square. He started toward her.
Halfway there, he stopped and examined his shirt as if seeing it for the first time.
"A beautiful autumn is coming," he said, sitting on a nearby swing.
For a long moment, Natalia pondered how to answer.
"Autumn is never beautiful. Autumn is the flu, depression, and wet shoes. But... Aren't you cold?
" "Me? No. I'm always warm. And something tells me..." He paused, carefully examining his hands. "Something tells me I'll be downright hot for a while.
" "Why?
" "Oh. It's such a sweet secret. But I apologize, ma'am, I didn't introduce myself. A shameful faux pas. Pleased to meet you, my name is Wiktor.
" "Natalia," she said, shaking the stranger's hand. Indeed. She was unusually warm.
"May I ask what brings you here?" It's a rather strange place to spend your free time, at least once you've crossed a certain line... What's such a beautiful woman doing here?
Aha, thought Natalia. And everything's clear. A flirt.
"She's resting," she replied dryly. "You know, I have to go.
" "But please wait. It's so nice," he said quickly, holding her. "I'm sorry I offended your dignity with such a trivial and trivial word. It was truly a vulgar move on my part. I don't know what possessed me. I promise, I'll be careful. But please stay," he smiled, revealing gleaming, smooth teeth.
"Well... Fine."
"Thank you very much. But... We were talking about autumn. Think about it: isn't it fascinating? Nature is falling asleep, all the leaves are going to their well-deserved rest. Just imagine how much work they did this summer, which was so sunny after all! How much energy flowed through them! Nature is taking another step, part of a larger cycle. If you think about it, everything around us is undergoing metamorphosis. And most of all, we ourselves," he added, his voice slightly altered.
The cold wind whipped across their faces. Natalia shivered. Despite wearing two layers of blouses, a sweater, and a coat, she wasn't warm at all. But the stranger... Wiktor... Sitting next to her, clad only in a Hawaiian shirt, he clearly didn't feel the cold at all. Quite the opposite.
With a flushed face and a twinkle in his eye, he gestured wildly:
"Everything changes! It's an inevitable course of events. Today I'm a vegetable, but tomorrow? Who knows! Maybe Mother Nature will turn me into a creeping reducer." Maybe he'll throw me into the water, attach a tail, and call me an eel. Maybe... Maybe..." His voice rose more and more. He was dry
and bitter. "Maybe in a few days this damned turbulence of the spheres will force me into another skin again, maybe a turtle, or maybe a businessman! But someone tell me, someone finally, damn it, how am I supposed to be a vampire in these fucked-up times?!" He shouted, spreading his arms.
"A vampire?" Natalia raised her eyebrows.
"Yes! A vampire," Wiktor shouted, his voice full of bitterness, and with a swift, graceful movement, he sank his teeth into her neck.
*
However—as he thought later—the vampire's lot in the Times of Turbulence wasn't so bad... He liked his new skin—the fresh, supple body of a young man. He hadn't enjoyed metamorphoses for a long time. The previous two had forced him into the shells of a Libyan aristocrat and an eel swimming in the waters of the Rhine. While one could feel a certain... satisfaction in overthrowing half an African government with a single signature, as he filtered the oil-slick waters of a German river, he thought only of suicide. The uncertainty of the next minute also caused a certain discomfort. One never knew when the turbulence of the spheres would strike again. What to do? He lived in the moment.
Walking through the single-family housing estate, he recalled their recent encounter with a warm shiver. As he drained the last spark of life from Natalia, she shuddered and whispered his name.
Having satisfied the first, visceral hunger, he decided that such a favorable transformation deserved a fitting celebration. The sign intrigued him: "Drink Bar at Henio's. Before 9 a.m., Signature Drink at half price." He stepped inside. The air was filled with the sour smell of cheap beer and mustiness.
At first, he wanted to leave, but a chain made of yarrow, hanging from one of the dispensers, caught his eye. Yarrow? Here? Completely unguarded?
He sat down at the bar, next to a man in a white T-shirt and leather jacket, hunched over a nearly empty glass. Behind the counter, a sweaty, fat man was scrubbing mugs. There was no one else in the cellar.
"Do you have a Bloody Mary?
" "We do," the bartender replied, not looking in his direction.
"One.
" "How about a double? It's a rainy day today; two will warm you up better.
" "Fine," Wiktor replied, searching his pockets for his wallet. He dug out a few coins and tossed them onto the tray. A moment later, two neat glasses appeared in front of him. He pretended not to notice the greasy marks on the glass.
"Salute!" He lifted one and drank its contents in one gulp. He wiped his mouth with his hand. "Good! I truly haven't had such a delicious Mary in a long time.
" "Mhh," the neighbor in the T-shirt rasped, plopping down on the wooden counter. The bartender thanked him and disappeared into the back.
Wiktor decided this was the perfect opportunity. He carefully reached for the chain. Less than three seconds later, the yarrow was resting in his hand. With a quick movement, he dropped it into his shirt pocket. He reached for his second drink.
"I saw it," he heard suddenly. The neighbor winked at him over the edge of his dirty glass.
"I saw it. Thief. Thief. Took the chain," he muttered sleepily.
Wiktor sighed softly. He had to act quickly while they were alone. He cleared his throat. He matched the timbre of his voice to the brainwave frequency of the average alcoholic. It should work. When he spoke, his words were soft and flowing like honey:
"You didn't... see anything.
" "Aha. Good," the man muttered and slumped against the counter.
The bartender returned just as Wiktor drained his second glass. He praised the drink again.
"A regular? He looks exhausted," he said, indicating the neighbor.
"Yeah." He's been here every day since his wife left him," the fat man replied, returning to scrubbing the mugs. It was having absolutely no effect, as the cloth was practically sticky with grime. "Can you believe it? She dumped him for the milkman. The milkman!
" "Disgusting.
" "I feel so sorry for him. His drinks are half price. It's the least I can do for him.
" "It's always something. Does he work?
" "He worked for an insurance company..." The bartender mused. "He quit his job when his office buddies started drinking a liter of milk every day and throwing cartons at him. He broke down. Anyone would. People are disgusting.
" "That's true," Wiktor agreed.
"Unfortunately. But... Where are you going?
" "To get something stronger.
"
Energy practically burst through his chest. He ran through the city center without even breaking a sweat. He stopped only in a park. As he sat down on a bench, wanting to enjoy the fleeting beauty of early autumn, his hand went to the bloodstone amulet hanging around his neck. He had only seen a similar necklace twice before. Once, he had almost died fighting one of
his own kind. This time, he was incredibly lucky.
Suddenly, just above his ear, he heard a hissing voice:
"Hello, dear Victor."
It was Miguel, the inquisitor. The words hadn't yet died, and the vampire was already running like a man possessed, not looking back. He didn't need to. When one of those bastards is chasing you, all you have to do is run and pray to all the gods one by one that your pursuer will have a sprained ankle.
Victor raced through the squares, leaping over benches. He heard the astonished voices of children. He crossed a busy intersection, narrowly avoiding death under the wheels of a tram. The tram driver shouted something. Wiktor kept running. As he ran across the academic square, he ran over several students. A shower of papers fell onto the cobblestones. With great leaps, he ran down the stairs by the Lambert monument. He nearly broke his leg. Bloodstone throbbed. Wiktor kept running. He had to. His only hope was to get outside the inquisitor's precinct...
Which he finally did.
They were running down a deserted suburban street when Wiktor heard a loud thud. As if someone had crashed into a wall at full speed. He breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time, he looked at his pursuer.
A tall, dark-haired man lay on the dirty sidewalk. He wore a jet-black coat and a yellow cap. Standing, he cursed loudly in a language unknown to the vampire. He glared at him, furious.
"Oh, you bastard. I almost had you."
"What happened? Am I... Oh dear. Am I outside your precinct?" This is terrible, my friend, truly terrible. Please accept my sincerest condolences. As they say: "One ride, one ride, little fish," Victor grinned.
"I'll catch up with you. Sooner or later. I hope you know that.
" "Aha," said Victor, picking his tooth. "Wait... You know the area. Do you know where to buy toothpicks around here?
" "Stop mocking me, you pathetic creature, amorphous fungus, you sad outcast..."
"Now, now. Enough. Now that the formalities are over, allow me to head in the opposite direction from you. It was a pleasure," the vampire assured him, bowing from the waist.
"I'm not finished yet," the inquisitor said emphatically. "Two more things. Both
will surely interest you.
" "I'm listening then. But be so kind as to make it short. Hungry."
"As for the first one..." Miguel said with a nasty smile. "Then you should know that less than an hour ago, you single-handedly intertwined our paths. You think that amulet was just lying there for fun? You fell into a trap, my dear. From now on, I'll always know where you are. A simple supraspheric weave. And believe me, if you ever find yourself on my turf... I'll be waiting."
Victor's face fell. "Yes, indeed. Only an idiot would fall for such a crude trick." The Inquisitor was smiling the entire time. He walked over to the wall. He rested his hands on it; they seemed to be suspended in midair. Their faces were less than half a meter apart. From this distance, the canary yellow of the Inquisitor's cap seemed so intense that Victor had to lower his gaze.
"Have you lost your temper, mate? To cheer you up, I'll show you my tools. Look closely." The next time they come near you, you'll be blindfolded.
He lifted the lapels of his cloak. A truly devilish arsenal hung on special leather loops: specially hardened files for filing vampire fangs, bottles of Oligocene water, knives of various shapes with silver and glass blades. Fear gripped Victor's throat. He knew the world would split in two before the Inquisitor could pass through the wall, but this shield was invisible, and Miguel's face was very close. But the worst was yet to come. With an infinitely slow movement, the Inquisitor opened the ornately embroidered pocket and pulled back the silk flap. He pulled out...
Victor almost fainted. Sweat broke out on his forehead, and a black mist clouded his eyes. No. Not this...
"Do you like it? I knew you would."
In his hand he held a tiny, black-and-white feather.
"Now run, boy." And hope the turbulence will be kind to you and won't one day shift my territory near you.
The Inquisitor tucked away the feather and deftly tucked in his cloak. The vampire breathed a sigh of relief. At the same time, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something that delighted him greatly. A cat, a black alley cat, was calmly walking towards them. A shiver of joyful excitement ran down the vampire's spine. Inquisitors all over the world, day and night, fearlessly hunted vampires, leshins, and banshees, annihilated snakes and poltergeists, yet all it took was for the paw of a common
cat to touch them and they died of terror.
Kitty, kitty, thought Victor. Now he had to buy time.
"You mentioned two things, though. I would be glad to know the second.
" "Do you really want to know?
" "Yes," the vampire said boldly. Just two meters, one and a half more...
"Listen... Where did you get that shirt? It's hideous. And those flowers, palm trees, all that tatters... Phew! Disgusting! Couldn't you afford a better one?
" "Now!" Wiktor shouted. "KICI KICI!"
He threw all his strength into this powerful thrust. The bloodstone trembled and shattered into hundreds of pieces. Plaster rained down from the surrounding walls. However, the vampire achieved his goal: His red-hot eyelids and the appropriate tone of his voice enraged the cat, which dug into the inquisitor's back.
*
The night sky looked beautiful. The moon, still high above the horizon, cast a cold light over the silent streets. The peace was broken only by the sirens of police cars and ambulances, sounding every few minutes. The air was clean and crisp. Wiktor sat on the roof of the tallest skyscraper. He enjoyed the moment and his peanut butter sandwich. A pleasant sweetness spread across his palate. He moaned with delight.
Eight days had passed since the chase. The memory of the triumph, combined with the taste of the sandwich, fostered a truly bubbly mood. He would never forget the sight of Miguel, raving with fear. He screamed like a man possessed. He danced in place, uncontrollably trying to throw the cat off. Finally, he succeeded; the animal landed on the wall, meowed, and fled. And the inquisitor fainted. Before he lost consciousness, however, he wheezed something at Victor. The vampire was glad he hadn't heard. For peace of mind, he avoided that area.
Besides, there was plenty to enjoy outside the city center. Gloomy alleyways shrouded in a sour fog. Chinese restaurants. Groups of young thugs wandering aimlessly. Everything was a sweet and sour mix, the perfect opportunity to learn about the customs of the human race and... savor its taste.
The wind blew away a scrap of sandwich wrapping. A white kite flew into the night sky.
Victor pulled another sandwich from his overstuffed backpack. He happily dug
into a wheat roll, rejoicing at the feeling of staining his lips with chocolate. This was it. The true taste of life.
He daydreamed so much that he began to make plans for the future. Somewhere at the back of his mind, a warning thought lingered: Wiktor, don't go crazy. One roll doesn't make summer. Don't get so excited, it'll only hurt more later. This was, unfortunately, true. Another turbulence of the spheres could arrive at any moment. Come and unceremoniously kick him out of the Hawaiian shirt, which, incidentally, he had already grown fond of.
He had to hurry. Wiktor chewed his last bite and tossed the paper ball into the abyss. He stretched his muscles. He inhaled the cold, refreshing air. Slowly, dreamily, he glanced down the deserted streets. He could almost hear the faltering footsteps, feel the warmth of students returning alone from wild parties.
Time for the hunt
.
He'd already had two hearty meals when his stomach ached. He doubled over, the whole world spinning in a mad dance. As if someone had thrown him into a washing machine and pressed a button. The vampire collapsed onto the sidewalk. Writhing in pain, he hurriedly analyzed his accomplishments. It was impossible for the first meal to be responsible, a plump, dyed-haired brunette rushing to catch a train. Sure, she had a lot of adrenaline in her veins, but adrenaline doesn't cause such sensations... The culprit was the second
meal. That would be correct. The skinny student looked like a ghost, stiffening after three seconds. His blood was good, sweet, and nutritious, but a metallic taste lingered on his tongue... Yes, yes. A drug addict, no doubt about it. He pumped himself full of pot and headed home, babbling and happy. Holy shit!
The pain didn't subside; on the contrary, it grew with each passing second. The last thing the vampire noticed was the bloated face of a young woman, asking, "What happened to you?"
He
awoke amidst blinding whiteness. Someone had laid him on a comfortable bed. The pain hadn't subsided; it still throbbed in his gut, but it was noticeably lighter. Wiktor glanced around the small room. The sounds of a lively conversation drifted from behind the door. Through the window, he could see the participants: young women in white coats. They were arguing about a certain Henryk and his liver. Against one wall stood a massive, reinforced wardrobe full of jars, boxes, and tubes. Through the barred window, he saw the sky. Blue. That meant he'd been lying there for quite a while. He raised his hand and noticed that something resembling a plastic leech had been stuck in his wrist. A rubber tube was emerging from its abdomen. At the other end of the tube, right next to his head, was a complex machine, richly decorated with colorful displays, emitting a disturbing "Ping!" signal from its electronic entrails every few seconds.
He was terribly thirsty. There was also a mineral water dispenser in the room, and a Coca-Cola cabinet was visible in the hallway. The problem was, no Sprite could quench this peculiar thirst.
As quietly as he could, he removed the tube from the leech and approached the door. The women were still arguing about poor Henryk's organs. He cautiously peered out the window. The door opened onto a long hallway. Apart from two nurses, there was no one in sight.
"Don't joke, Helga! I won't let you!
" "Luckily, you have no say. They'll cut him off and that's that.
" "Do you know what that means to him? They'll scar him for life! Even if all he had to do was call Dr. Kuciak...
" "Dr. Kuciak is new here. No one will let him perform such an operation; it's too risky." Would you rather see your ward die on the table?
"Say what you want, but Ernest... Dr. Kuciak could handle it! I believe in him," she said
emphatically.
"But the council doesn't believe... Hey! Where are you going?"
"Stretch your legs," Wiktor replied, almost believing he could slip behind the women unnoticed.
"Back to bed, now!"
The nurse shouted in a distracted tone, focusing most of her attention on the discussion
about Henryk and what they were going to cut off. Wiktor saw this as an opportunity. He could try the same trick he'd used in the bar. True, he no longer had the yarrow with him, and the pain still seared his stomach, but it should work. He focused and, waving his hands in front of the nurse's face, said softly,
"Nothing... You didn't see. And you too... You didn't... seen nothing."
The women blinked rapidly, then continued their conversation as if nothing had happened.
The vampire straightened and, trying to make his steps seem calm and confident, began wandering the corridors. Hunger had dried his throat. Seriously, why hadn't he attended to the nurses? The very thought made him feel dizzy. No. He had to get out of here, had to escape. Only once outside would he allow himself a moment of oblivion...
An older man, dressed in a stained lab coat, emerged from around the corner. His nametag read: "Head of the Department." The glasses on his nose resembled transparent tires. Looking
toward Wiktor, he smiled broadly.
"Hello, Kęsimski! How was your internship?
" "Uh. Uh... Very educational.
" "We hope your father will visit us someday. As you've probably noticed, we're an exceptionally thriving facility, investing heavily in infrastructure... Have you seen the machine
in the first diagnostic room yet? It goes "ping." I'm proud of it."
"Yes, I have," the surprised vampire groaned.
"But you can never have too much money, right?" He gave him a flourishing slap on the back. "It would be great to have another one, wouldn't it, Kęsimski?"
The man lowered his voice:
"Perhaps you could whisper a few words to Daddy, if you'd like, drop by my office and we'll give you some colorful brochures. And really, Daddy should visit us sometime. That would convince him. We need to support the health service, a vibrant staff, a healthy best man!" He roared to the entire corridor.
"Um... I'll whisper, of course.
" "That's the point, Kęsimski, that's the point of this business! And now I'm not interrupting. You probably have a lot of work. But if you're bored..." The doctor leaned in conspiratorially. "If you're bored... There's a cool nurse on duty on the second floor, 307... What do you say? One word and she's yours.
" "Um... Thank you, I have a lot of work.
" "If anything, you know where to find me. Take care, Kęsimski!" he said, and walked away, all
aflutter.
Wiktor took another minute to recover from his encounter with the half-blind head doctor.
Finally, he sighed heavily and moved on.
Every step was agony. Hunger burned his esophagus, twisted his stomach, echoed in his skull with a dull, throbbing pain. He thrust red-hot rods into every muscle, even the smallest. Wiktor clenched his fists. He couldn't do it. Enough. He was only a vampire, after all. He decided to attack the first person he saw. Had he really decided? Well. Free will had nothing to do with it. A more appropriate phrase would be "suck everyone."
But fate, that malicious bastard, didn't send him a single creature for the next five minutes. The vampire was dying. He begged for a rat, if only. He cursed the modern chemicals that had eradicated those divine, crunchy creatures from the soulless corridors. Zero people, all the doors locked. He fell to his knees, feeling the will to survive drain from him with a soft whoosh. He leaned against the wall, closed his eyes. He was ready to die. He remembered the lovely Natalia one last time. "So this is how you die..." he whispered. He gave the world one last, farewell look. He felt a little foolish when he thought of giving up his ghost in the hallway of a modern clinic.
He felt even more foolish when he glanced at the sign attached to the door opposite. The feeling of shame quickly gave way to a wild, almost animalistic joy. And hope, which exploded in his head like a ton of Chinese fireworks.
On the door was the inscription: "Blood Bank."
*
Even before he reached for the doorknob, for one terrifying moment he was certain the door was locked. This time, however, fate was on his side. It gave way. He entered... Or rather, he fell into a cold, windowless room. The darkness was instantly illuminated by automatically switched-on fluorescent lights; a cold glow illuminated the rows of refrigerators. Wiktor groaned. So this is what paradise looks like...
Mustering his last reserves of strength, he reached for one of the refrigerators. He yanked open the door. With trembling hands, he tore open the plastic bag. Blood flowed down his mouth, down his chin, and stained his Hawaiian shirt. He didn't care in the slightest. All that mattered was the infinite sweetness, the life he regained with each gulp.
The sucked-out plastic body landed in the corner. The vampire reached for another.
And another...
The feast was endless. After just three bags, he regained his strength, after five, he stood up; when the tenth, wrinkled plastic bag landed on the floor, he discovered he'd never felt better. But it would be a sin not to seize the opportunity. Having devastated the first refrigerator, he moved on to the second. The door wouldn't open. He ripped it out easily. Here's another line in the poem about infinite pleasure. Why hadn't he thought of this sooner?
Yes. Nothing could replace the atmospheric wanderings of a deserted, nocturnal city. Spontaneous hunts. The spirited pursuits of virgins. However, all these pleasures came with risks. Inquisitors waited at every turn. As he had learned, the blood of some people who didn't care about their health could be poisonous. And yet here, in every hospital, vast supplies of fresh, well-chilled, spotless ambrosia awaited him.
Drunk with joy, he opened the third refrigerator.
Then someone entered. A security guard. He was stunned to see Wiktor, who was about to rip open another bag of blood group 0Rh-. The vampire quickly hid it behind his back. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. An innocent smile graced his face.
"Stop! Don't move! We have an intruder in the bank!" he shouted into the corridor. The clatter of hurried footsteps answered him.
Unfortunately, the hypnosis trick only worked on those who weren't paying full attention. The same couldn't be said for the security guard. Pulling out his baton, he glared at the vampire with a gaze so intense it could have started a fire if it had landed on brush.
The only option was escape. Time was running out. The police, or worse, a team of security guards, could arrive any moment.
"I beg your pardon. Would you please step aside," Wiktor said in a dignified voice he'd honed to near perfection while ensconced in the body of a Libyan aristocrat.
It worked. The guard hesitated, lowering his baton slightly. That was more than enough for the vampire. He lunged toward the man and shoved him against the nearest refrigerator. Something crunched. Oh well.
He'd just filled up his tank, after all. The way was clear. He ran out into the corridor. He was running much faster than an ordinary human, knocking over doctors and nurses. Where had they suddenly emerged from? No one stopped him. Probably because, from the perspective of a mere mortal, a vampire running at full speed looks like someone daubed the air with oil paint.
A huge green door. And the sign "Exit."
His heart leapt into his throat. He laughed. Finally!
He was reaching for the doorknob, wanting to rip the door open and run out, taking a deep breath of fresh air. Leave the Lysol-stinking clinic behind. Regain his freedom and see the sun again...
Turbulence, as usual, arrived without warning. It slammed him against the wall.
"Not now..." he groaned. "Please, not now."
Before he lost consciousness, he felt a powerful force practically kick him out of his orange Hawaiian shirt.
*
The corporate office was located on the eighteenth floor of the Stravidillov Tower, a monumental structure of steel and glass. No one knew why it had been christened that way. After a long search, a group of interested citizens discovered that Stradivillov was an eighteenth-century Russian inventor and botanist. He became famous for announcing to the world that he had successfully grown a green strawberry one meter in diameter. He died a minute after the conference, an unknown assailant stabbing him under the ribs. Someone must have been very keen to ensure that the gigantic strawberry never saw the light of day.
The head of marketing, Waldemar Pyzek, who also served as the general director of exploitation, heard a faint beep. The secretary announced that his long-awaited guest had arrived.
"Let him in. And bring two coffees," he commanded.
The door opened a crack. A tall man in a perfectly tailored suit stood there. He looked around the office as if he were seeing it for the first time. A light, carefree smile never left his face.
"Hello, Józef," Waldemar said, extending his hand. The guest's handshake was unexpectedly firm. "Would you like something to drink?
" "I'd love to. You have a nice office.
" "Thank you. I furnished it myself, after all. Oh. There's coffee. Thank you, Miss Migotka."
The secretary curtsied and silently disappeared behind the door.
"Sit down, my friend. Or perhaps you'd like some brandy? Coffee with brandy tastes
infinitely better. Just to warm up the minds before we get down to business.
" "I'd love to try some," the guest said.
Waldemar went to the hidden bar and pulled out a half-empty bottle. We'll have to send Migotka on a mission to replenish our supplies, he thought, fortifying the coffee with alcohol. Józef sat silently, looking around carefully. The director's gaze fell on the elegant leather briefcase the guest held on his lap.
"What do you have there, Józef?
" "Something that might interest you." The guest took a sip from a gilded cup. "Indeed, excellent. I'll have to visit you more often.
" "You're always welcome here," the director smiled, sitting behind his desk. "So, will you let me in on a secret? Two days ago, at the council meeting, I pushed through the allocation of more funds for internal purposes. Your... surprises have never disappointed me. As usual, price is irrelevant.
" "Hmm. Nice description. Surprises. But your words make me uncomfortable. I'm simply... a Messenger.
" "Anyway, I trust you completely. You're the most valuable of my... partners. Because I suppose I can call you that?
" "Ah, Waldemar..." The guest laughed. "Call me whatever you like."
Silence reigned. The director didn't know what to say. He had to be extremely careful. He was too committed to this transaction to bury it with one inappropriate word.
"So?" He raised his eyebrows.
"Ah. Sorry, I was lost in thought."
Józef placed the briefcase on the desk. He turned the key and opened the lid. The director rose in his chair.
"Oh, my God..." he whispered. "That's wonderful."
The guest remained silent, smiling mysteriously. With a quick movement, he slammed the briefcase shut. Waldemar looked at him, his eyes full of determination.
"I have to have it. How much do you want? A million? In cash? Give me ten minutes.
" "Easy, my dear... Partner. I suggest we go for a short walk. I know the perfect place for such discussions. We can discuss the terms of the transaction calmly, in a gentlemanly manner. No one will interrupt us," he added, clasping his hands together.
"As you wish, Józef."
The director's knees were trembling. They left the office. Józef walked with a dignified but springy step. He gave the secretary a radiant smile. She blushed.
"Miss Snooze? Please cancel all my meetings today," Waldemar ordered.
"Okay, Mr. Director."
They disappeared behind the door. They were waiting intently for the elevator. The director's heart was beating like crazy. Suddenly
he remembered something. He excused himself to Józef, stepped back into the vestibule, and through the slightly open door said,
"Miss Snooze? One more thing. Please feed Fryderyk.
" "Of course," the secretary smiled.
A deal was a deal, but his beloved goldfish couldn't starve.
*
Wiktor finally came to.
When he realized the situation, he cursed like never before. Juicy and foul. The words escaped in tiny air bubbles.
Oh, no. Not again, he thought. It's impossible.
And yet.
He tried to move his arm, his leg, but gave up when he realized he was flapping his fins.
He screamed as loudly as he could. It wasn't fair! How could he be a vampire in times like these, when that damned turbulence was playing such tricks on him?! How?!
The quiet "bulbul" was drowned out by the hum of the filter.
All he could do was wait for the next turbulence and hope it would force him into his human form. Just wait. Wait patiently...
The thirst for blood subsided, faded into the background. For some reason, the animals weren't touched by vampire instincts. Although that was good. He didn't have to worry about hunting. He just needed... Ah. The food was coming.
The secretary, with her lithe body and wide hips, leaned over the aquarium. A shower of tasty particles fell into the water. Wiktor, deftly maneuvering his fins, grabbed the larger ones. He had recently learned fishy motor skills while living inside an eel. It had to be admitted that, in a way, he liked them. They had a prehistoric grace about them.
After eating, he sank to the bottom, gurgling with overeating. Time for a nap. He had to wait, there was no way around it...
*
The sound of the door opening woke him. It was already dark. A short
man, dressed in blue overalls, entered the office. He had rags draped over his shoulder and a broom in his hand. He glanced around the office. An odd time for a cleaner's visit, Wiktor thought, basking near the bottom. The man noticed the aquarium, smiled, and approached, whistling cheerfully. There was something familiar in his gait...
As he leaned over the water, Wiktor gurgled with terror. He realized the terrifying truth. He hid under the largest rock. No, no, it can't be like this, it can't end like this, he thought. Please, not now!! NOT NOW!!
He heard a sweet voice:
"See? I told you I'd find you. As the saying goes: Once on the wagon, once under the wagon... Rybeńko," said the inquisitor, smiling wickedly.
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