Chapter 7

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Sullenly going through the things for sale, Andrew wondered how a real woman in any situation manages to remain a woman. At the same time, he glanced sideways at the object that gave him the reason for such thoughts - simply speaking, at Medea.

It's a funny thing. Medea's demeanor, having learned of her male companion's identity, changed for a while. Her movements began to show a certain slyness, flirtatiousness, almost coquetry, and eye-rolling. If she'd been asked directly, she would have vehemently denied it, but deep down she felt an unconscious desire to seduce her friend. Not because she fell in love: just the presence of a "man" who is not subject to her charms, not feeling admiration for her stunning beauty, perceived the former singer as a challenge. She did not accept a purely "working" relationship with the opposite sex.

Fortunately, circumstances greatly interfered with the intended game. The road to the new hideout was difficult, and Andrew's attitude gave no reason for an easy affair. He simply did not care about the processes taking place in the graceful head of his companion, he was entirely focused first on the search for a new home, then he arranged his life, looking for a way to get into the port... And then Medea became quiet. She came to her senses. Re-perceived Celesta as a female friend, not a man of exotic appearance. She calmed down to the minute when she heard the story about the night meeting with the wounded bandit leader.

And now, sitting in front of a big piece of mirror, she was putting on her makeup. She washed in a tin trough, braided her long hair into a hairstyle, blackened her eyelashes and eyebrows with charcoal, and carefully trimmed her fingernails. Wanted to put some red crap on her lips, Andrew told her not to: too unpleasant associations. A ghoul, after all. Richard's personality was scrutinized through a huge number of questions - the bandit must have been exhausted from such attention.

Medea explained her interest simply: "The more you know about a man, the better chance you have of taking him warm."

The wording of the reply Celesta received made her laugh.

"Are you hoping to seduce him? Why?"

"Why seduce right away? Seduction has to be earned... I just want to talk to a nice person, chat about this and that, laugh, flirt a little." She paused, then in a different, gloomy tone added. "I'm sick of looking at people as food. Tired of the filth, of the stench. No, let this Richard see me not as a dead bloodsucker, but as a beautiful, intelligent woman. Then he would want to meet again and again."

The epithet "nice," in Celesta's opinion, was the least appropriate for the supposed partner. He was a dangerous predator, no less deadly than the ghoul herself, and there was no telling whose hands had more blood on them. Around the bandit, even when wounded, you had to keep your guard up if you were to give him the slightest chance to strike. From the glances he cast, such thoughts crossed his mind. It was hard to pretend to be calm and relaxed. One involuntarily wanted to stay away from the man.

A whole week had passed since the parting, and the agreed deadline had arrived. The agreed time was enough for, firstly, Richard to heal a little, and, secondly, to get the information the girls were interested in. Celesta appointed an old park with broken fountains, surrounded by dilapidated houses, as a meeting place. The main advantage of the park, which determined her choice, was its underground water supply system, which had a lot of outlets to the surface. The ghouls had discovered it soon after their arrival in the harbor district judging by the amount of dirt and untouched dust, people hadn't gone down into the sewers. It's a convenient spot. If the bandits wanted to set a trap, the quick and quiet undead would have the advantage in the ruins. It's hard for a living creature to hide from a ghoul's keen hearing and night vision, but still, an experienced hunter has a chance to go unnoticed. In that case, they'll have to flee, and a hidden passage is the best way to do it.

Andrew estimated the probability of an ambush at sixty to forty. That is forty percent for and sixty percent against. On his side played the advantageous offer to the gang, the possibility of useful cooperation in the future, and Richard's character. From her conversation with him, she judged him to be a man cynical and adventurous enough to ally with the enemies of his kind to achieve his ends. On the other hand, he could also betray at any moment as soon as further partnership seemed pointless to him. Besides, the king is made by the entourage. Richard is sure to share the circumstances of his salvation with his inner circle of friends, and no one knows what they will advise.

"If he deceives me, I'll exterminate his gang one by one," Celesta summed up the grim reflection. "I'll run away, wait six months, then come back, and make a bloodbath."

"We don't know how we'll survive the winter," Medea said skeptically. "Last year people froze to death. It even snowed once. Fishermen feared to go to sea: food is not enough, a lot of mutants multiplied, the guards of the port did not show their noses. This winter, I feel, everything will be different."

The mild Mediterranean climate of Taleya accustomed its inhabitants to waiting for the grace of nature, and the harsh weather for local latitudes claimed many lives. Mostly due to the lack of warm clothing and the consequent frequent illnesses. Although hunger has also taken its toll: outbreaks of cannibalism were everywhere last year. In any case, interrogated prisoners often confessed to eating their kind, sometimes repeatedly. Nowadays people were rarely killed for meat.

There were persistent rumors of a community that practiced dark rituals, including cannibalistic ones. Quite true rumors, in the opinion of both girls. The prophets and self-appointed priests had recently enjoyed enormous authority among all strata of society, ironically enough, which had partially retained its former organization. Sects proliferated to all tastes. The most delusional ideas were passed off as divine revelation and found enthusiastic admirers; many gangs consisted of one "inspired" madman and his flock. The battles between them had long since become commonplace, and to fall into the hands of fanatics meant death.

"Okay." Celesta checked clothes, weapons, goods one last time. She put the heavy bale on her back and jumped around a bit. She had counted heavily on today's meeting and was therefore worried. "Enough guessing. Let's go."

"Say a prayer to the patroness - let her help," asked her friend seriously.

"To whom, Celeste the goddess? I haven't seen any help from her before."

"You're alive," Medea objected logically. "The gods rarely perform obvious miracles, usually they point the right way or grant good fortune in matters. A little luck in an hour or two won't hurt at all."

"It is better to count on yourself, not on a mythical aunt with superpowers. Then you'll know exactly who to blame if anything happens." In the eyes of the locals, Andrew's statement stretched to the revolution and immediate execution.

Medea sighed habitually, rolled her eyes to the dark sky, and silently prayed to Morvan, asking him not to punish the empty-headed woman. Celesta did not mean any harm. Just does not understand that she was here and now is not accidental, for there is no accident at all. She was brought. Called. Someone powerful, someone with power over souls, with an unknown purpose, transfers the mind of an alien-human into a dead body.

Who else but God?

They went to the park just after sunset and checked the area first thing. It seemed clear, there was no one around. All the time on the road, Andrew thought about the upcoming meeting, and as a result, as they say, "overexcite" himself. Therefore, the absence of observers frightened him, because it forced him to assume that the insistent invitation Richard ignored and chose to stay away from the ghoul. The decision is wise, correct, but for the girls, it is extremely disadvantageous. In such a case, it would be necessary to look for a new agent, unnecessary rumors about the presence of the living dead in the lands previously considered safe, the hunt would become more difficult. The prey itself might try to catch the predator. Then it would be necessary to leave the beloved burrow for a longer period than originally intended and immediately move to another area.

Was the man not greedy enough or too careful? At first glance, he seemed to be a cruel, unscrupulous person, with a tendency to take risky steps. Andrew knew what to look at, he had a wealth of practical experience in terms of psychology. True, somewhat monotonous. Usually, people next to the undead or other monsters experienced either horror or burning rage, few dared to speak quietly. That was why Richard was valuable because he reacted unconventionally.

Before the appointed time, the ghouls had time to do more than just walk around the neighborhood. It would be more accurate to say that they had touched every inch of ground. There was nothing else to do but wait. And hope. The remaining two hours lasted much longer than usual for the nervous girls. Celesta stood motionless as a statue, her stony calm only occasionally disturbed by a slight movement of her chest. The rebels needed air, but not as much as the humans alive. Medea chattered, hiding her excitement behind her cheerful speech. She reminisced, told amusing sketches of bohemian life, occasionally pulling her friend to get one-word answers out of her. The listener's token attention suited her just fine.

Finally, about half an hour before the appointed time, footsteps were heard in the distance. The city was unusually quiet tonight: only the strange silence and the tension of Celesta's presence allowed her to distinguish the slight shuffling of footsteps. People, close, two of them.

"Someone is coming."

Medea was momentarily silent and wary, too: "Is this them?"

"From the sound of it, yes. One has a shuffling gait, and Richard is wounded."

"Did he take only one assistant with him?"

"When meeting with ghouls, you should take those closest to you, those whom you trust as you trust yourself. You can never have too many of them." She paused for a moment, then said, "If it's Richard. And if we didn't notice the ambush."

"We checked everything, there are no intruders here."

The younger undead shrugged: "Maybe they'll come up later." Then she began to command, determining for the last time the course of action. "Now I'll bring them here, ask them questions, introduce them to you. Then I'll make one more run around the neighborhood. You trade weapons for rags and food stamps..."

"Dinirs."

"Let the dinirs, just make the exchange. The main thing is to try to get as many rumors and gossip as you can, to spin the men for information. And for God's sake, remain vigilant. If anything happens, I won't be able to come to your aid right away."

"Don't worry about it." Medea shook her shoulder irritably. "Everything will be all right."

Celesta walked lightly, trying to pick her way through the darkest corners of the park. She should have welcomed the dear - no joke - guests, led them to the right place, found out who the bandit leader had brought with him. The moon in this world was small and dim, but starlight on a cloudless day was enough for the human eye. Local astrologers were particularly fond of the four incredibly bright "stars," which were the closest planets, and we're dedicated, according to tradition, to each of the elemental lords. Whom they would denote now, after the disappearance of the forces of their masters, it is not clear. Andrew believed that inertness of thought would play its role and people would not change either the names or the occult meanings of each of the planets.

The ghoul approached the people at just the right time.

"Careful, the hatch."

In response, there was the rustle of weapons being drawn, and the two male figures froze, peering into the darkness of the gap between the two rows of sprawling bushes. The woman's voice did not respond to the aggression, just as calmly said.

"I see you didn't come alone, Richard?"

After a moment's hesitation, the first man put his sword away. The second warrior reluctantly obeyed his elder's sign, but didn't hide his weapon, just pointed it at the ground.

"Celesta? Is that you?"

"Were you expecting someone else?" The slender figure suddenly moved out the other side of the room, not at all where the shaken people expected it to come from. "Follow me. And watch your step."

Richard swallowed involuntarily. The two undead, standing side by side, were as different as night and day. The one he first met, Celesta, looked like a fragile and delicate flower, enchanting with its weightless beauty. There was something unreal, foreign about her. Small, slender, dressed in an incomprehensible patchy cloak, she might appear to an outsider as a harmless, unfortunate refugee in need of protection. The first impression passed with a glance at her movements-strong, thrifty, self-assured. Although Richard had no illusions about her ability to kill from the start, the girl had proven her cruelty and survivability when they first met.

The second... Hair the color of thick honey, perfect body shape, not hidden by any rags, perfect face with mockingly and slyly curved lips. Huge blue eyes, at the very bottom of which occasionally flickered tiny red dots. The unknown woman stood slightly behind her companion's shoulder, towering over her by half a head, and regarded the men with interest. Who were suddenly acutely aware of the days-old stubble on their chins, the smell of their own bodies, and their hair sticky with dirt. Borak beside him snorted embarrassedly.

The goddess smiled.

"So who did you bring, Richard?"

There was a note in Celesta's tone that made him answer:

"This is my assistant, Borak."

"Let me introduce my friend Medea, you can discuss business with her. What have you learned about the monastery?"

The assistant was of no interest to Andrew. He was obviously not a titan of intelligence, but the dog's loyalty in the look directed at the leader was enough. A faithful dog, his right hand, and, if necessary, the executor of dirty deeds. He was a good candidate for a meeting, whether with fellow craftsmen or ghouls.

Richard did not report anything specific. One week is too short a time to gather enough rumors and gossip about the territory controlled by strangers. Yes, someone lives in the monastery, for a long time, the surrounding people try not to go there unnecessarily. In general, the place is gloomy, not far from the nest of some creatures. It's not known what's going on there now, because normal people try to stay away from danger and closer to the city and port. They don't rummage in the ruins, they charge for passage through their land, and that's how they live.

"In other words, you didn't tell me anything new."

"So little time has passed. Again, I don't know what to ask people. Maybe they know something useful, they just don't understand it."

Richard did not expect that in response to a crude attempt to find out why the ghoul was interested in a monastery, he would receive a simple and clear answer: "Our kindred live there." She admired the man's involuntary twitch and looked thoughtfully at his companion. The man retaliated by gripping his weapon tighter. Celesta seemed to pay no attention to the movement, continuing to speak exclusively to the man in charge. "Good. I'll be patient for a little while longer. Excuse me, Richard, I have some business nearby. Talk to Medea - she'll show you the goods, discuss prices. I'll be right back."

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

A step, another, a sliding movement to the side. That's it - she's gone, hidden in the darkness, not even the rustle of her footsteps to the bewildered mortals. However, almost immediately their attention returned to Medea as she laughed quietly and softly: "Don't be offended by my friend: she never saw the need to follow the rules of propriety."

It was a stunning voice, deep and sensual and gentle, absolutely appropriate for its owner. Richard reminded himself that she was not just a beautiful - okay, devilishly beautiful - woman, but an essentially dead creature. Dangerous and unpredictable.

"Compared to many people I know, Mrs. Celesta is the epitome of politeness. Alas, in these difficult times we cannot hope for a thorough observance of etiquette. And it is certainly only by the interference of the gods that I am fortunate enough to behold your beauty, Lady Medea..."

The phrases accepted in noble society were suddenly easy to recall and roll off the tongue. However, the thoughts in the leader's head, which were frantic, were much less sophisticated. He was startled by the disappearance of the Ghoul. What was the point of her leaving? What to expect now? Richard had fought all kinds of creatures, but they had never made such a complex and frightening impression as this short girl. She seemed to radiate confidence, never for a moment doubting her ability to destroy both him and Borak if she wished. I didn't want to anger her, much less have her as an enemy. The Dark One knows what powers the living dead have, and there are all kinds of rumors about them. Maybe not all of them were mere gossip. That bloodsucker had made a deal with that dog-like creature, hadn't she?

Now he almost regretted his decision to come to the meeting. Almost. His squad had suffered too heavy a loss, he had to take a risk. Otherwise, his neighbors would crush him, if not in a couple or three weeks, then certainly at the beginning of winter.

Richard was greatly offended by the Duke of Taleya. A descendant of the gods must be in the company of his equals, it was his sacred right. He could not mingle with dumb commoners who were in the service of the higher-ups, could he? And it was at the Duke's order that the guards prevented him from entering the castle after the Plague, laughing violently from the high walls. Richard was very offended then, and the anger has not gone away to this day. It was it that allowed him to survive, to form his detachment, to gradually take a high place among the leaders like himself.

At first, he picked up three men with whom he robbed stores, warehouses, and fought small groups of embittered men. Gradually, there were more male warriors and young strong women. True, few women survived, but now they had to be stolen or traded at a high price. Old, crippled men were ruthlessly culled: they hindered survival. He taught the men to fight. He was a career officer and a nobleman, his squad enjoyed a good reputation due to his training and strict discipline. He eliminated those who disagreed: the dangerous he killed, the weak, and the wimpy he drove away. So when the duke's servants began hiring men to guard the wagons, he was one of the first to be invited. It proved dangerous, but profitable.

And with the help of ghouls, a clever man can make it even more profitable.

Waking up from his thoughts, Richard was surprised to find himself telling Lady Medea in detail about a recent slippery operation his men had carried out in the port. He had managed to negotiate with the captain of one of the fishing schooners and sell half of the daily catch under the table. If the guards found out about the deal, all those involved would lose their heads. Moreover, Borak, the most faithful and loyal guard who trusted himself and his master alone, did not attempt to restrain the talkative ringleader! He didn't even look around, concentrating on his mesmerizing companion. Fascinating? No, magic doesn't work. It shouldn't work...

"I beg your pardon." The woman smiled disarmingly embarrassed. "It had been so long since I'd met a decent storyteller that I'd forgotten the real purpose of our meeting."

"Well, lady, it's a real pleasure to talk to you! Dare I ask whose family gave birth to such a beautiful daughter?"

Medea shook her head sadly: "Ah, no. In our circles, it is not customary to answer such questions. The transition to a new state erases old debts, connections, commitments. Please, understand and do not be offended."

"A lady's wish is a law to me."

"Thank you. Please take a look at the things we've brought you. I flatter myself that they will arouse your interest."

While his master was examining the sack's contents, checking the quality of the weapons, and tsking his tongue contentedly at the sight of a pair of crossbows, Borak remembered his duties as a bodyguard and looked around. As he glanced behind him, he shuddered - that second ghoul was sitting on a rock not far away. If she wanted to, she'd have killed them both before anyone could see her. A chill ran down the back of his neck. Risky, risky, his master. No need for enemies with friends like that.

Medea, on the other hand, was immersed in examining the huge bale of clothing the bandits had brought. There were evening gowns of expensive fabric, which had cost a fortune before the disaster, and the usual blouses, skirts, scarves, wide pants, a light jacket, and even one heavy woolen tulup. Surprisingly, some of the items appeared to be intact, recently unpacked, apparently the result of the efforts of the city's looters. Though there were a few that smelled like smoke and blood. The rags appeared to have been lightly scrubbed before they were sold, but no definitive trace of the violent deaths of their former owners remained.

With a heavy sigh, the woman put aside her luxurious light raincoat. Now it was time to prepare for winter by buying good and simple clothes. Best of all, ex-army uniforms from army warehouses or hunting suits. But, alas, three years after the catastrophe such things were in very short supply and were worth their weight in gold. Out of the huge pile, Medea chose only two pairs of pants-not the right size, but okay - and a nice summer jacket. Apparently, the jacket was made with a teenager in mind, but it would fit Celesta just fine. The leather booties, which happened to be among the other things, were a nice touch, too. Shoes were an issue of great concern to the girls; now they had to wrap rags around their feet. There was no way to get good shoes. Most people wore either heavy boots that rumbled on the ground as they walked or various kinds of homemade boots that crumbled after a few days of running through the stone mazes.

Of course, she couldn't resist buying something else. As soon as she imagined what a black dress with a closed collar and a low neckline would look like on her, her hands put it aside. Fortunately, Celesta had turned her head away from her friend's activities.

Spoiler: T.N.

Toreador such Toreador.

Medea also chose three warm blankets of some artificial material, thin and almost weightless. They had similar ones, in principle, probably stolen from the same warehouse, but it was better to buy new and clean clothes. They were cheap, and the girls' pile of merchandise went to pay for the crossbows. With bolts. The rest was to be exchanged for "dinars". That was the popular name for food coupons with the Duke's profile on one side. On the other side was a stamp listing the foodstuffs that could be exchanged for the coupons. The dinar from its inception became the only stable currency around Taleya, gold, and silver being ranked lower. The system created by the city rulers proved as simple as it was reliable. All food, no matter how it was obtained, was deposited in warehouses. Fishermen reported their catch to the port collectors every night, hunters were not allowed to keep even a small piece of meat, gardeners were divided into brigades and obliged to keep a close eye on each other. One must assume that the accounting in the newly-formed villages is no less competent. The guards on the one hand and the ubiquitous principle of mutual responsibility on the other successfully ensured that not a single bit of food, valuable materials, fuel, weapons, clothing, and other necessities passed by the duke's storerooms.

And yet a "black market" existed. The eternal passion for the good life forced people to conceal some products and exchange them for a profit. The organizers and most active participants in the illicit trade were various kinds of small and not-so-small gangs that existed both in the port and outside it. Although the term "gang" can hardly be applied to people who were operating in the territory controlled by the guards. Often it was those charged with enforcing the law who broke the law. In other words, the officials themselves, who patronized the low-ranking perpetrators. On the surface, it looked simple enough. A farmer who secretly grew and managed to hide from accounting, for example, a sack of beets, secretly exchanged it with an acquaintance for dinars. This sack was then transported through a chain to the port, where it was sold for twice the price or exchanged for part of the catch. The most expensive items were spirits or the ingredients for making them.

"Wouldn't you like to buy this wonderful sword, lord?"

"The price you asked scares me."

"Quite decent, I assure you. At any rate, the previous owner paid twice as much for it. I am ready to catch him again to convince you of the truth of my words!"

"Thank you, that won't be necessary. A man who gave four dinir of fish in exchange for a soft steel sword is of no interest to me."

"But the weapon has no signs or markings," Medea countered. "You, in turn, have an excellent opportunity to resell it to anyone who wants it."

Andrew watched the virtuoso work of his girlfriend and quietly admired it. Everything from light flirting to carefully veiled jabbing threats was used. Having some idea of the prices in town, they hadn't had a chance to sell their trophies until now, so Medea hadn't had a chance to demonstrate her talents in buying and selling before. Maybe it was for the best. At that rate, she'd have the market under her control in no time. Or lose her life, which is more likely: the average oligarch would be worse than a ghoul.

After receiving more than she expected and deciding to ignore the "unplanned" purchase, wondering where she would wear the dress, Celesta shifted Richard's attention back to herself: "I see that you have a deal?"

"Yes, Lord Richard was very generous," Medea fluttered her eyelashes, giving the man a charming smile. He choked on a prepared phrase. "He is such an interesting companion! I am so happy! I hope you won't refuse to continue the acquaintance?"

The question asked in a purring tone was answered by Celesta instead of the leader: "Absolutely. He wants to offer us a deal. Doesn't he?"

"Why do you think so, Mistress Celesta?" Richard finally managed to cope with a dry throat.

"Because you brought one man with you and didn't even try to hide a few more in an ambush. But, no, if you didn't want anything from us, you wouldn't have come at all," she grinned dryly, fangs gleaming for a moment.

The response grin on the ringleader's face came out crooked: "Maybe you're right."

They drove back, laden with clothes, in complete silence. Andrew was careful not to think about the proposal, concentrating on the road, carefully monitoring all the extraneous sounds. Medea anticipated going through the new clothes again today, trying them on, going to sleep on a clean bed - for the occasion, she intended to open a package of sheets, found long ago in the looted store. She was also pondering how she would explain her luxurious new rag, and she was preparing for a little scandal in advance. What she wasn't worried about was the future: she trusted her friend.

Only when he returned home to the den did Andrei allow himself to relax. Relax from the tension he'd been under tonight. Listening halfheartedly to Medea's contented cooing as she laid out her purchases, he tried in vain to understand what he had become. What he had become. That confrontation with Carlon had affected him more than he had thought at first. More and more often, even in his thoughts, Andrew referred to himself as Celesta, the memories of his past life faded and distant. His memory perfectly preserved the images of his homeworld, the faces of his parents, friends, pictures of familiar life, but they had all become alien. As if the events were happening to another person. As if, sitting in a theater in front of a huge screen, with interest watching a feature film. Except that no matter how talented the director was, no matter how beautiful the acting, it is impossible to completely identify with your favorite character.

Here and now there is Celesta. A girl satisfied with her body. A ghoul used to hide from the sun. A bloodsucker who has resigned herself to having to go out hunting at least once every two days. A citizen of a ruined city for whom killing her kind, though with hot blood in her veins, had long been the norm. Her life was cheaply valued - and she responded in kind, mercilessly defending her right to exist. There was little that prevented her from becoming a cruel nocturnal predator: strong moral principles, preserved from the past, and the understanding of a simple truth - a human being is stronger than a beast. So, no matter what, you must remain human.

You can't survive at all costs, it's a path to nowhere.

Carlon said a different, perfect race would take the place of humans. Maybe so. Only the priest got carried away and forgot the fate of those commanders who despised the enemy. And in most cases their fate was unenviable. Besides - what would ghouls become in the new world? Would there be a place for them?

We must learn to coexist with people...

Except that humans don't want to have such dangerous neighbors. And, frankly, they are understandable.

"What do you say? Do we agree?"

A deliriously contented Medea twirled in front of a large shard of mirror that had miraculously survived and had been transferred to the girls' dwelling. She did not wish to talk about business. If Celesta had complimented her appearance, told her how great she looked, how well that dress suited her, then the girl, unused to compliments, would have gladly supported the conversation. Alas, her friend sat with a gloomy look and did not understand the hints. Even though tonight was a good night, Medea had received more male attention than she had in the past year.

"I don't see any reason to say no," the older ghoul answered after all. "We do almost the same thing almost every night. Yeah, we'd have to hunt a certain gang member, not everyone. So? We'll manage. We don't really have a choice. You know, Richard has to be tied down at all costs."

"A career as an assassin doesn't suit me somehow."

Medea was silent, then suddenly spat out angrily: "There is no other work! There isn't, and there never will be!"

The sudden outburst of rage surprised Celesta. Normally Medea was meticulous about her appearance, but now she was completely out of control. From beneath the mask of her human face peered a hungry and cruel essence, sharp claws piercing the air with a sharp movement as the woman turned sharply, continuing to speak: "What else could we be?!" Her voice grew stronger, and the mirror on the wall rattled. "This damned body is like it was made for killing, we're not good for anything else..."

The incipient hysteria was interrupted by a mighty slap. Ghoul's head jerked back from the blow, and the woman involuntarily recoiled, fangs bared and froze in a tense stance. But no one was in a hurry to attack her.

"Have you calmed down? Have you come to your senses?" Celesta didn't seem small now. Even when she looked up, it was as if she towered over Medea. As if something enormous and powerful, capable of commanding and ordering, was peeking out from behind her. "Then listen to me. We will be whoever we want to be. Do you understand? Everything is in our hands. And no bandit can make us do anything we don't want to do."

The girl slid smoothly forward, close to her friend. Small hands wrapped around Medea's waist, stroking her back soothingly: "Calm down. Everything will be all right. Don't be afraid of anything..."

A little later, when the weeping beauty returned to the interrupted conversation, she heard the decision of the older ghoul. The older one, despite her short stature, general frailty, and shorter lifespan in undead form.

"We're not going to help Richard on this one. We'll take out a couple of guards, and that's it. Let him get used to the fact that he can't use us at his own discretion."

"Then why would he do business with us? It's easier to find less intimidating partners."

"That's right... Think. Think - what else can we do to attract him?"

Since childhood, Andrew had learned a clear rule: if possible, combine morality with logic, ethics with rationality. And now his decision to ignore the ringleader's request was determined both by his desire to act within the "rules of the game" established by society and by sober calculation. People don't like murderers. They treat them with respect or fear, yes, but they do not like them. A friend of his who had been in Chechnya and Ossetia had noticed more than once the way his conversation changed if the person he was talking to knew that he was a war veteran. Even here, in a country devastated by the catastrophe, where human life is worth less than a crust of bread, too much of an outsider's blood is avoided.

It's hard to call a ghoul harmless.

However, the human consciousness very accurately, though inarticulately, divides the threat into tolerable and intolerable. The second must be eliminated at all costs. Not taking into account the losses. Until now, people, faced with those who have risen from the dead, have perceived them as absolute enemies, a dialogue with whom is impossible. All the more so because they have more than enough reasons for this viewpoint: ghouls rarely leave their victims alive. For the past three years alone, the authorities have had enough other problems, in comparison to which the danger of various kinds of plagues is insignificant. They defended themselves against ghouls, headless ghouls, basement dwellers, hydras, wolfhounds, and cadaver eaters, but they were not hunted purposefully. There was no power. Before.

Richard talked about the rewards recently awarded for killed undead. It was rewarding work, but dangerous. So dangerous, in fact, that it only made sense to take it as a last resort. Besides, someday the area around the city would be cleansed of the monsters...

Fear and hatred, multiplied by greed, could well wipe out the nonhumans in Taleya. The girls frankly didn't care about the rest of the ghouls, but they didn't want to be among the dead themselves. They wanted people to see them as useful, to protect them, to nurture them from time to time. Why not? The Romans had thrown the condemned to the lions. But how could they prove their friendliness without giving the impression of weakness? Plays, plays on the edge: on one side the beastly jaws of the Night, on the other - ruthless human rage.

What to do? It is urgent to entice the leader, to make him an offer he cannot refuse. Because he won't. The undead has the advantage of high survivability, stealth, subtle hearing and night vision, and high speed compared to ordinary humans. An ideal spy, if it weren't for the fear of light and bloodlust. Of course, you would still have to spy, but it would be better to choose a calmer profession, to begin with. One that would allow making connections, to move freely around the city - as much as possible in modern conditions - to collect rumors and gossip.

Andrew was always anxious to go home because he didn't like being a bloodsucking girl. He didn't like it at all. Besides, the nomadic lifestyle allowed him to hunt far away from the main base, without attracting attention to the refuge. The girls had managed to learn a fair chunk of the city during their escape, knew the places of convenient layovers. There is another advantage. The more they studied the local sewers, the more confident they were in getting far from home - knowing the signs and peculiarities of the underground architecture, they could find a temporary shelter anywhere.

"I wonder if there are any smugglers here."

Medea lifted her head from her sewing; she was adjusting the size of the clothes she had bought.

"Of course," She seemed surprised by the very formulation of the question. "The black market exists because of them."

"I don't mean carrying bags of dried fish from one place to another or anything like that," Celesta snickered back. "Think about it. We don't want to be assassins, or monster hunters, or anything like that. It's dangerous, and besides... But trading information, or small but valuable possessions, is very profitable."

"It is unlikely that Richard needs this kind of service."

"We'll see. At the very least, he knows officials who might be interested in our proposal. Those in power are always intriguing - it's the law. Let the bandit work as a middleman, get his percentage, and in return, he'll get us access to the port and warehouses. We just need to motivate him properly."

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