The Chess

Maddy had been distracted from her work for the past couple of hours. As she lay in her hospital room late at night, she often found herself staring out the window at the dark street outside Amity Park Hospital and the purple sky with its occasional cirrus clouds. While her work usually helped her to distract herself from her current problems, it was difficult to immerse herself in it right now. Her husband's calculations were blurring together into a monotonous and meaningless mass. The realization of the many problems she would have to deal with when she returned home was too clear. A nervous daughter and a distant husband who hadn't been communicating with her enough during their absence were the main sources of stress. There didn't seem to be any energy left to deal with it, and trying to think about it even a little bit caused headaches. Danny often visited her. He brought her the things she asked for and reported on the state of the house and the work he had done. Sometimes he complained about how strange Jess was acting. She would shudder at the sight of a small bug, and the teenager had to help her catch and kill even the most harmless fruit fly. “I still don’t understand what happened between Jess and dad while we were away, but it turned her into a real hypochondriac. Between you and me, I think our future psychologist needs a psychologist,” Danny said as he visited her this afternoon after school, rubbing his neck wearily and rubbing his eyes sleepily. The boy was obviously not getting enough sleep and was taking on more than he should be, trying to be the only “adult” in the family who could at least try to resolve any disagreements or difficult situations that arose, to smooth out any sharp conversations. Maddy smiled and asked him to put off the difficult questions for now, not to try to jump over his head. “We’ll deal with it together when I get out of here, dear,” she said, stroking his hair. The way he spoke, the way he thought, the way he acted... She knew that her little boy would grow up one day, but she didn't think it would happen so quickly. If she were asked to describe it, to give a subjective assessment of her own emotions, she wouldn't be able to explain the mix of pride, fear, and sadness she felt. “He’s a nice boy,” the nurse remarked, bringing the patient her supper just after Danny had left. “And lucky. So much has happened, and he’s only got a couple of scratches.” He was lucky. If what they’d been through could be called luck. It was an experience Maddy wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. The woman closed her laptop, set it on the bedside table, and rubbed her eyes wearily, trying to dull the beginning headache. The hospital staff had almost disappeared from the corridors. All the patients had been sent to rest, and only the soft yellow light above her bed was still on as the last rays of sunset faded away. ― Are you still working? Even here? — The voice sounded slightly muffled. It's strange that she didn't hear the door to the ward open. — What else can I do? There's not much entertainment in the hospital, Vlad, — she looked at the man leaning his shoulder against the door frame. Black suit, black briefcase, red tie. His strict and formal appearance, which a woman associates with funeral home workers, always seemed the same. — I'm well aware of that. Believe me, — there was a touch of melancholy in his voice and gaze. — And yet, the job? Are you still as obsessed as you were in college? — Maybe, but I've changed course a bit, — she replied, almost echoing Vlad's words from the night of the reunion, eliciting a slight chuckle from him. Maddy gestured for him to approach, and he stepped inside her room. — How did you get in? Visiting hours have long since ended. — I can be very persuasive in my request, — Masters replied evasively, making Maddie raise a skeptical eyebrow. — Bribed someone? ― she suggested without holding back her sarcasm. — What a bad opinion you have of me, — Vlad's feigned offense amused her a little. — How are you feeling? — His smile seemed genuine for once. Not the fake smile that people often put on their faces because they don't want to appear rude or harsh, but a genuine smile. — I'm ready to escape from here, and I consider myself quite health, — she replied honestly, sitting up on the pillows. The splint Vlad had put on the patient's leg was removed, and the skin was already watching from the classic plaster. ― Unfortunately, the attending physician thinks otherwise. — I was worried about your head wound, — the man said, gently tracing the bandage on Maddy's forehead. There was something wrong with that gesture. Something she had felt the previous Halloween, helping Vlad get rid of the ecto-foam in his eyes. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on, but she didn't want to. Her former classmate had been stirring up too many emotions and memories lately, and she had to remind herself who she was dealing with. The coldest person she had ever known. After all these years and all the shit he'd had to go through, partly because of Jack and him, it was naive to expect any kind of sincerity from him. — Why did you come? — she asked bluntly. I didn't want to ask the question so rudely and bluntly, but all other options would sound too ambiguous. ― Just like that, ― Vlad put his briefcase on the chair closest to the bed. ― Is there a reason to inquire about someone's condition? Was that a rebuke? It certainly sounded like one. Soft, careful, smooth, but so damned venomous. The woman's heart began to beat a little harder. Neither she nor Jack had done for him what he was talking about. What he was doing now, ostensibly without malice, by deciding to visit her. — For a busy businessman with an obvious lack of free time, yes, — she said, not looking away. After a moment's pause, she added, — As I see it. — Time is a relative concept, — the man said with a hint of coldness in his eyes. His formal demeanor returned, replacing any hint of sincerity. — However, there is some truth to your assumption, — he said as he opened the locks on his briefcase and began to slowly sort through the meticulously organized documents inside. — Your presentation at the conference impressed not only your direct colleagues, Maddie, but also me. Therefore, I would like to offer you a small collaboration. He handed her a small A4-sized paper envelope. Maddy took it in her hands, but she didn't open it in front of him. She didn't want to show her interest in this man, even if she was genuinely interested. She had already almost fallen into the beast's mouth, succumbing to his charm, politeness, and ability to convince her that certain actions would benefit and interest him. — I would like to offer you more opportunities to express yourself. To give you the opportunity and space to conduct the research that interests you, if your personal interests are different from your work with Jack, — Vlad was as polite and cautious as always. His words sounded natural, but the woman was almost certain that this was just an illusion created by his cold-blooded nature. — Perhaps you would like to express yourself more rather than helping someone else climb higher and higher. — Jack and I are a team, — she said, understanding Vlad's meaning. The topic and his insinuations caused a dull ache in the center of her chest. She wanted to protest, to say that his insinuations were repulsive, to distance herself from everything he was trying to convey. But she was talking to Vlad, a man who viewed other people's emotions as a sign of weakness. He would use any extra emotions against her, because if he couldn't use them, he would never have achieved what he had. — I understand, so I don't insist, — Vlad smiled a little wider. — I'm just suggesting that you consider the offer.

***

Standing under the canopy, Danny carefully observed the procession of circus performers as they emerged from the gloomy train and showcased their talents to the audience on their way to the tent. The Phantom's attention was particularly drawn to the girl in the red dress and the ringmaster, although it was more accurate to say that it was not the ringmaster himself but something else that he possessed. The Phantom was uncertain, but what he felt was not only frustrating but also puzzling for Danny. It was like a little bug buzzing in my ear, and I focused my attention on the lanky, skinny guy with the dark makeup. It was easy to dismiss this feeling, but it was infuriating because it came back over and over again, as befits a stupid insect that takes what it wants with exhaustion and assertiveness even when it was useless. “Maybe this is what the local vampires reacted to,” the teenager thought, listening to the annoying buzzing and looking back at the girl who was scattering black rose petals. She couldn't have been more than thirteen years old. Skinny and emaciated, she seemed beaten up, and the restraints on her arms and legs only gave more reason for this feeling. Looking at her, Danny had to swallow a gust of cold air trying to escape from his throat. In this heat, the display of this small ability would be too noticeable. But there was one oddity in all of this. The ghostly child didn't exude the same level of danger as Charlotte. She simply lacked the same level of strength and malice. Instead, she resembled Jeremy Fenton, Charlotte's puppet, who was used as she saw fit. She was a weak-willed entity, a shell of a human being. Her face remained expressionless, and her blank gaze stared straight ahead, oblivious to the other circus performers and the audience. — So why should we leave quickly? — Pauline's voice sounded almost in his ear. Danny pulled back slightly in surprise. Absorbed in his own thoughts, he did not notice how the girl came closer. So close that he could feel with his skin how the black stones on the gold chains in her earrings warmed up in the hot sun. Danny awkwardly bit the tip of his tongue, looking into Polina's blue eyes with their many small specks of green. It must have been that this girl remained one of the few that still evoked vivid feelings in him, even after everything that had happened. It was a pity that they were not bright enough to drown out the occasional memories of the taste of raw human flesh that surfaced in his mind. The pleasure he had received from eating it was so intense and wrong that even his feelings for the school queen seemed pale in comparison. ― Danny's been filling a little unwell on the heat, — Sam quickly found an answer, coming to the rescue of her friend, who had already been thinking about the answer for too long. She squeezed his hand gently. Surprisingly, the girl's hands in black gloves were cold. ―Yes, right,― the teenager smiled awkwardly, confirming his friend's words. ― I can't stand this kind of weather. It was becoming more difficult to act like a weak and pampered child. This was not only because the Phantom was beginning to manifest itself in his daily life, as if it were providing him with an additional source of energy. For example, in physical education, it prevented his muscles from getting tired or his breathing from becoming labored after long runs. However, Danny had always been seen as a quiet and weak-willed individual. This was reflected in the way he was treated by his teachers and parents. It was also the reason why he had been bullied since elementary school, because everyone seemed as he was one of those who never fought back. At least physically. He'd been bored with this role for a long time, but it was HIS role. You couldn't just go and start pretending to be someone else. It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be believable. Pauline pulled off her lace glove and touched his forehead, pushing his colorful panama hat back. Her hands were pleasantly cool, and her wrists smelled of some bitter herbs and sour berries, which her overly bright floral perfume tried to mask. She frowned seriously, analyzing something, while Danny held his breath. ― Yeah, you're really hot,― Pauline stated, reaching for her purse. ― I have a cooling patch with me. Previously, a guy would have been delighted with such a display of care. The object of his adoration is genuinely interested in how he feels and is trying to help. But after he returned to the Amity Park as one of the two survivors of the plane crash, the attitude of those around him, including his classmates, changed. This universal care, consideration and attention were not a burden at first, but there was something fake about them. — It's not worth it,― Danny tried to wave it off. Even a polite smile was difficult for him. — I'm fine, really. — It's nothing, — Pauline said as she easily opened a plaster that looked like a large, bluish hydrocolloid bandage. Taking the boy's hand, she applied the plaster to his wrist. The chemical reaction in the air immediately took effect, and a pleasant coolness spread through his arm from the exposed veins. — It won't last long, but I hope we can take a short walk around the fair, — Pauline said with a smile as she stepped out of the canopy and headed towards the food and souvenir stalls made from old train cars. ― It’s not worth it, — Sam mimicked quietly as Polina stepped out into the sunlight. — If that was a flirtation, it was very awkward of you. — Jealous? — Danny chuckled. — No! — The girl blushed indignantly, looking away, causing the teenager to chuckle slightly. She used to tease him whenever she could when he was drooling over the cheerleaders in practice, and it seemed like a fair way to get back at her. Danny ran his fingers over the cool bandage on his wrist before taking out a wristband from one of the pockets of his voluminous cargo jeans and hiding the patch under it in the hope of prolonging its effect. Everyone offered to help him. They sympathized with him. They pitied him. They gave him a lot of indulgences, emphasizing only one idea: he was a weakling and would remain that way forever in the eyes of others. — Don't make that face, Sam, ― Danny said, finishing fiddling with the wristband. — You know it's just a formality. — A gesture of politeness. If it hadn't been for the downed plane, I would have remained an empty place for her. Sam's sarcasm and annoyance quickly disappeared. She looked at him with friendly understanding, touching his shoulder with a gentle gesture. Danny hoped that this was not just another act of formal politeness, but a genuine expression of affection. However, he and Phantom had difficulty distinguishing between the two. He could feel otherworldly energy and see things that were inaccessible to ordinary people, but socially, he often felt blind and deaf, especially compared to the usually energetic and sociable vampires who could pick up on other people's moods and attitudes with just a glance. ― Hey, sweet couple, are you coming? — Pauline shouted, attracting the attention of two friends. In the bright sun, the black stones in her gold earrings shone brighter, sending out many small sunbeams. — We're not a couple! — Sam exclaimed. The girl blushed so much and so sharply that Danny began to feel as if the thin translucent shawl on her head was about to catch fire. — Let's go, ― he took Sam by the elbow, heading after the cheerleader. ― Since I'm here, I need to look around. Don't stray too far just in case, okay? ― So, what happened? — As Sam walked down the crumbling old steps from under the awning of an abandoned train station, she lifted her shawl slightly so as not to stumble. She spoke softly, so that only Danny could hear her. The ghost's eyes lit up. Is it something serious? ― I'm still trying to figure it out. There was a commotion among us this morning, and the fangs felt something. They can't accurately describe it in human language, but to simplify what I could understand, they heard someone from their own people who was being hurt somewhere in the area. Maybe in this circus. ― Couldn't they have put it more precisely? — Sam adjusted the lily―shaped clip, pulling the shawl back over her face. — I can be more precise now,― Danny assured her. ― The girl in the red dress, who was carrying a basket of flowers, is a ghost. I don't know what it gives us yet, but the fact that there are real dead people among the cast members bothers me personally. ― She certainly looks wild and eerily similar to a corpse, but it could just be a good make-up. Are you sure? — Sam's tone became serious. The girl carefully watched the troupe disappear behind the black canopy of the circus tent. The opening ceremony ended, and the crowd began to slowly move towards the fair, full of dark paraphernalia and strange food that Danny definitely wasn't going to try. Her scent made him gag even more than his friend's vegan tastes. — Ghost gut hasn't let down yet, — Danny replied, looking at the bird that flew off the canopy of the circus tent and began circling over the carriages from which the troupe had just exited. ― I let him down, not listening to the signals. It took too long to come to terms with the other self and start taking it seriously. I would have avoided a lot of trouble if I had started listening to him earlier. While she and Sam were chatting, Pauline had already started flitting between the counters, taking a closer look at various knickknacks. Even dressed in all black, she couldn't blend in with the crowd of Goths in the same black clothes. There was something bright about the girl that made her stand out from the crowd and was probably the very reason she became so popular. Sanchez seemed to glow from within with an energy that attracted glances. No matter how she dressed, no matter what company she was in, the bright cheerleader was always in plain sight. She was a beacon that was being followed. Was it the result of her attractive appearance or the behavior and character that made everyone around her think that she was the ideal, and everyone before her was just an outdated idea of the ideal? Danny didn't know the exact answer. Quite ordinary people began to appear among the crowd of Goths. The bright and unusual performance clearly attracted the attention of not only teenagers and some adults interested in the topic of Gothic, but also ordinary people who wanted to look at something like that. Dilute the flow of gray everyday life with a bright event, which can then be discussed with friends and have fun. Although for sure those who took Gothic and all its fads seriously were probably unhappy with this. “Kra-ta-ta," a loud shout at one of the souvenir tents attracted the attention of not only Danny and Sam, but also most of the onlookers. A black-and-white bird, being chased away with a stick by a salesman with a corporate face, tried to pull off a large and very shiny ornament from the stand that attracted its attention. The thieving magpie amused the crowd filming her on their phones by jumping on the counter and knocking over some jars and wicker baskets with knickknacks, not paying much attention to the indignation of the merchants. She spread her wings as if posing for the cameras on purpose and even tried to peck the lens of the phone closest to her, with some kind of bright keychain, which caused the observers to have a fit of fun. It became too noisy and fun for the Gothic fair, which sold mainly darkness and universal sorrow, which caused even more discontent among those who came to enjoy the decay. By lunchtime, because of this, local swearing will surely begin on the Internet. Grabbing an interesting piece of glitter from the shelf, the bird flew off the counter and, circling a little over the crowd, landed on Pauline's outstretched hand in a thick glove, with which she replaced her lace ones. Danny knew she was a fashionista, but surely not enough to change accessories every hour? ― I'm soo sorry, — she apologized to the seller, smiling modestly. Taking the jewelry from the mischievous magpie's beak, Pauline handed it back to the dealer, who was sweating from fighting the pest, who snatched the goods from the girl's hands with a rude gesture. ― Don't be so mad at her, please. She just wanted to play, it's a silly bird. ― So that I don't see you and your stuffed animal next to my goods anymore, ― the makeup of the seller swam from sweat and the hot sun, hiding in small wrinkles and rolling down in the folds of his eyelids, which made his face even more sinister and creepy, but it didn't seem to make an impression on Pauline. She continued to smile sweetly, nodding politely and walking away from the stalls with a magpie on her arm. Upon closer inspection, the girl's new gloves seemed specially made so that a small bird with sharp claws could comfortably sit on them without scratching the mistress' hands. There was something predatory in her gaze and demeanor. Something similar to what Danny felt from her when she was wearing the dragon amulet, but this time much less noticeable, destructive and rude. More merging with herself. — How unfortunate, — she said to Sam and Danny, self―consciously straightening her curls. ― Maybe I should go away and work a little more on the upbringing and behavior of my bird. Have a good time. The magpie was sitting on Pauline's fingers, wings slightly spread to cool off in the heat. A calm and statuesque bird with a dangerous spark of intelligence in its reddish-brown beady eyes. She did not give the impression of an animal that she had just disobeyed her mistress for no reason. Danny stared after Pauline, who was walking through the crowd with her head held high. Most likely, she wasn't really offended or ashamed of her pet's behavior. Rather, on the contrary, she enjoyed the performance. It amused a bored queen in an elegant black dress. — Magpae creatures are wayward, but not silly, — Sam's remark seemed a little inappropriate because of the tone. Danny didn't hear the usual animal rights activist outrage in her voice. There was also no usual discontent in him, which she felt every time Pauline once again became the center of everyone's attention. The strange changes in the attitude of the two girls confused the Phantom a bit.

***

The spiders turned out to be unusual in every sense of the word. At first glance, they were ordinary Pholcidae with a tiny body on ridiculously long and thin legs, slightly phosphorescent from the ectoplasm trapped on them. However, upon closer examination with an electron microscope, it turned out that the greenish ectoplasm was inside them, filling the hollow translucent chitinous legs and the rest of the body. At some point, Maddie thought that last winter it was a small colony of these strange insects that had caused her and Jack so much interference in their work and caused the sensors to fire from time to time, as it seemed at the time, for no apparent reason. After taking a closer look at their behavior, Maddie suddenly discovered that they were acting surprisingly harmoniously, collectively trying to solve the task that was currently relevant to them ― to get out of the container in which they were put. They crawled along the lid of the container, trying to put their paws between the carvings in search of a weak spot, supported each other by lining up a small tower along the glass sides, which they could not cling to and crawl like on an ordinary wall or ceiling. She had previously noticed such well-coordinated behavior and a similar complex approach to solving problems only in ants in a colony, but not in single hunters like spiders. And the method they chose was too complicated for insects that did not have intelligence as such. Maddie immediately reached for the camera to capture their behavior and later get confirmation of what she saw. This spider species was clearly unlike anything that could be found in the classification. A hybrid form of habitual life with an otherworldly substance. A life form filled with ectoplasm and showing much more complex behavior than their counterparts, so similar in appearance. She rubbed her eyes a little, returning to the electron microscope and turned on the recording, as she usually did with all the samples being examined. The small body of the spider on the slide was dead, but the greenish glow inside the body continued to pulsate, albeit faintly, but very noticeably, as if trying to reproduce the breathing rhythm of the creature with which it entered into a symbiotic relationship. She separate spider paw from the small body in order to get a sample of ectoplasm from the body for examination. But at the moment when the thin tip of the needle reached for the hollow limb, the greenish ectoplasm flowed out and began to fumble around, as if it were a separate organism inside another being. A thin tentacle-like appendage stretched out until it came across the body from which it was torn off. Joining him, the ectoplasmic symbiote pulled the severed leg back to everything else, making the spider whole again. The woman even seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. Carefully observing what was happening, she hardly even blinked, for fear of missing something. Even after the death of the body, the ectoplasmic something inside it seemed to be diligently trying to resuscitate it with all possible methods. Keep it intact until the last one. The substance from the “Ghost Zone” supported life much more actively than anything else in their world did. The simplest organisms came to Maddy's mind, which scientists consider to be close to immortal beings under certain circumstances. Hydra, capable of recovering even after critical damage to all living things. Small jellyfish, which, in the absence of accidents, are capable of almost eternal life. Is there a possibility that the organisms they explore through the portal are nothing more than a similar immortal substance that, by a wild coincidence, is able to absorb human consciousness and create a new eternal body for it? What are the chances that most legends about spirits, werewolves, and vampires are just stories about the accidental symbiosis of ordinary people with the otherworldly? Leaning back in her chair, Maddie took a deep breath, taking in what she had seen. There was no one else in the lab but her. She didn't even seem to notice Jack's departure, lost in her own observations. Rubbing her numb neck, she returned to the computer monitor to check the recordings and make sure that the microscope camera captured what she saw with her own eyes. The hybrid life form is a potential breakthrough in science and understanding of what is commonly called otherworldly activity. The proof right in front of her eyes was priceless. For some reason, the disassembled anti-ghost weapon on her husband's desk now seemed to her just a pile of useless junk. A means to destroy what can be a solution to many problems in medicine or robotics. A weapon aimed at destabilizing an amazing substance that can make the body of a simple organism regenerate at a fantastic rate even after its actual life has already ended. Maddie bit her lip. Vlad's proposal, which he made when she was still in the hospital, popped up in her head to the disgusting “on time". ― Mom! — Jess's loud scream came from the kitchen along with her hurried footsteps. She was clearly outraged about something. ― You said we got rid of the insects! — We've already called the exterminator, honey, — she replied calmly, getting up from her chair and carefully stepping on her weakened leg in a supportive bandage when her daughter appeared panting on the stairs to the laboratory. ― It won't be possible to destroy all the insects in the world, it would be wrong, so they will appear in our house one way or another from time to time. Especially now, in the middle of summer, — she tried to speak calmly, smoothing Jess's disheveled hair. Picking up a mug of coffee that had been cold for a long time, she pushed her daughter towards the stairs leading to the kitchen, trying to hide the container with spiders from the girl's eyes in order to avoid unnecessary tantrums. Danny wasn't exaggerating at all when he said that Jess needed a psychologist. The girl became terribly nervous, but she stubbornly refused to accept her reaction to the world around her as a problem. And how can you help someone who is sure that everyone has problems except him? Being firmly convinced that it is others who are going crazy and reacting incorrectly, not her. Maddie has been thinking about this question for a long time, gradually trying to bring her daughter to the idea that she reacts too vividly to small things like random insects, after the incident with Jack. It's just a pity that things didn't get any further. Danny was more objective and honest with himself in terms of accepting his own problems than his older sister, who was supposed to be an example to him. — But it's just awful! ― it seemed that the girl was about to cry. ― It's impossible to live like this! ― Honey, try to calm down now, — Maddie said, limping slightly as she went up to the kitchen, holding onto the banister tightly. ― You still want to become a therapist. How can a doctor help someone when he himself reacts like this to the reality around him? Jess's argument seemed to work for the first time in a long time. The girl sniffed, looking at the floor. Her cheeks seemed red even against the background of bright red hair. She was clearly unhappy that she had been reprimanded for using her desires and dreams as an attempt to reach her mind. It's a dirty trick, no one would like it when others are diligently trying to convey to him the nasty idea of putting personal feelings on the back burner. After all, these are her feelings, and this seems to be the most important thing at any age. The highest value. — The only reason you don't notice spiders in the house is because you're indulging Danny, ― the old song goes on. Jess went into denial so much that she found the problem in anyone but herself. ― Because he keeps spiders in his room, we have so many of them in the house! — Does Danny keep spiders? ― the woman clarified, looking at how the girl was literally blossoming before her eyes. — Didn't you know? He's been messing with them for a long time, — she began actively. ― I even did a biology report on them at the end of last quarter. Everyone is tired of Mr. Pibbet citing his work as an example of a high-quality report when there is really nothing special there. So it turns out that he didn't inform you either, bringing this stuff home! ― Honey, take it easy, — Maddy tried to calm her daughter's ardor. The girl was so upset that it seemed now she could pin anything on her brother, regardless of the severity of his real offense. The woman did not see anything wrong with her son's academic success, because the boy had seemingly been neglecting his grades for a long time. So she didn't feel particularly angry about his infatuation, even if it was secret for some reason. — Take it easy? I just saw some kind of glowing creature come out of his room, squeezing under the door! “Glowing?" — Maddy remembered how the spiders she had caught flickered slightly in a dark corner. ― Dear, let's get some air and still analyze your reaction to your brother's successful report more carefully, while I figure out how bad what he did really is. Ok? — Maddy's suggestion only made the girl snort in annoyance. Obviously, she had no connection between her own reaction to Danny's academic success and what she considered to be a much more serious and real problem. However, she obeyed and, taking her bag, went outside, slamming the front door loudly. Maddy shook her head wearily. The girl was extremely immature when it came to her brother. Since childhood, she has been jealous of everyone around him, sincerely believing that no one notices this. The boy often got rather rude pokes and jokes from his sister, but after so many years of peace, the woman already believed that it was all in the past. But there was something about Jess's words that was worth paying attention to. Glowing insects and spiders that Danny kept hidden. It really violated the ban on pets in their house. Even if he had keep them for school project, the success of which had awakened in Jess the old childhood jealousy of the older child for the younger, he should have reported it. To inform, if not the whole family, then at least her. When Maddie went up to the second floor, she actually saw something slightly phosphorescent that slid under the door to Danny's room. Is there a chance that her son discovered an unusual hybrid spider species before her and has already found suitable housing conditions for him? And spiders was able to breed? Her hand froze on the cold door handle with a lot of bright stickers and the inscription “Keep out”. Fingers felt cramped from what she was about to do. She had not entered her son's room for a long time without him and his permission. This space was completely his. A small, safe island in the crazy world around it, which no one really wanted to violate. It seems even Jack always avoided the closed door, as if he did not notice its presence. “Get a grip", — Maddie ordered herself, turning the knob. She shivered from the cold when the unseasonably cold air smelled at her from behind the door. A cloud of steam even escaped her lips when she went inside and turned off the thermostat, the adjustment knob of which was set to the lowest possible value. — There's a real freezer here, — she muttered to herself, looking around for another glowing spider. She came across a small terrarium full of cobwebs. It seemed empty, but the white threads of the nest gave off a barely noticeable faint light from the creatures that were hiding inside. The aquarium itself turned out to be tightly closed, but what was inside it attracted the woman's attention. Fenton thermos flask, but it was a little strange, subtly different from the non-working prototype Jack had shown her. Something besides a roughly sealed lid. She noticed movement next to a couple of hardcover notebooks on the shelf next to the terrarium. It was probably the insect that had scared Jess so much and that had scuttled under Danny's door in front of her eyes. In an attempt to get the spider out from behind the books and notebooks, Maddy dropped one of them. A small notebook fell on the desk, opening about in the middle, attracting the woman's attention with notes. A strict string of formulas, written down obviously by Danny's hand. His ornate handwriting with rounded, pot-bellied letters was difficult to confuse with anyone else's. However, the recordings were completely far from what could be given to a teenager in a school curriculum. The multistory calculations were too complicated for a sixteen-year-old. Turning the page, Maddie saw a printout of Jack's Fenton Thermos flask pasted into the notebook, with corrections made by the same hand that wrote the rest of the text. Corrections that she could no longer find fault with, as was the case with her husband's work. Slowly sinking into a chair, she continued to study the corrected drawing and short notes. Obviously, all this was not intended for others to read, so the notes were extremely careless, the text sometimes went beyond the margins, and the letters piled on top of each other, crossed out, and sometimes blurred due to tea spilled on the page or drops of model glue. But it seemed impossible to Maddy. Incredible, considering everything she knew about her boy. Cute and independent, but incredibly mediocre in science, based on his academic success. How come he was able to fix the mistakes in her and Jack's work? Flipping to the next page, the woman almost screamed in surprise. A tiny spider jumped from the notebook at her, aiming right at her face. She didn't even have time to realize what had happened as a small arthropod evil crawled right into her mouth, methodically scratching her throat with chitinous paws, making its way into her throat. She coughed and tried to spit, pulling out a small parasite with her fingers, and falling to the floor in front of her son's desk. “I finally got to you," — the laughing voice made Maddie shiver and freeze. Small goosebumps ran down her spine when she slightly looked up and noticed the toes of children's shoes with rotten leaves stuck to the sole and the torn hem of a white dress. “Look at me. Don't be afraid,” — Charlotte's voice sounded friendly and sickly sweet, with a slight otherworldly echo. A spindle with a thin thread, more like a fishing line or a spider's web, landed next to her worn shoes. Slowly unwinding, it rose and fell, tapping monotonously on the tabletop. Knock. Knock. Knock. Maddy looked up. Tucked into the belt of her white apron was a crudely made spinning wheel made from a dry twig, on which Charlotte's blond hair was impaled. It was from her light, slightly disheveled, lush curls that she wove a thin thread. The girl looked at her curiously with big blue eyes, slightly tilting her head to the side. From the moment she saw the little demon during last year's Halloween, the ghost hadn't changed in any way. Time was clearly running out for her. The girl's lips did not move, but her voice sounded clearly in her head. “Did you like my spiders?” — she asked, smiling wider and wider, showing a row of baby teeth partially affected by caries. — “I have something else for you. A little secret. Just between us girls.”

***

The wide heels of Pauline's black shoes thudded on the sidewalk of the old town, echoing between the houses on the narrow deserted streets. Few people lived here, and few of the living left their apartments. The occasional rare comers, judging by their appearance, were belated visitors to the fair at the circus “Gothic”, who were not particularly interested in the opening ceremony. The magpie moved from her hand to her shoulder. Sitting comfortably at her neck, the bird pecked cool berries from the outstretched hand of her mistress, who gently stroked her under her beak, saying: — You're a smart girl, Button, ― she repeated with a smile, putting the small container of berries back into her purse and holding out her free hand in a thick glove so that the other magpie sat on it. ―You're a good girl, too, Pin. In it's beak, the bird held an elegant gold necklace with emeralds covering ivy leaves cast from precious metal. Without resisting, she handed the jewelry into the hands of her mistress, so that she could examine it more closely. The necklace still had a tag with the name of her father's store, a gold sample, and the name of the stones, attached to a silk cord between the links holding the leaves together using a small seal with a seal. The labeling method is old-fashioned but elegant in its own way. Pauline held the necklace carefully so as not to lose anything important while she took out a small plastic zip bag. ― Whoever it was, he didn't even consider it necessary to remove the tag. Well, that's good for us, — Pauline informed the magpies, looking at how the perfectly polished emeralds showed traces of someone else's fingers in the sunlight. ― Father will be happy to receive something more significant than the interference on the recording from the cameras. Hiding the jewelry in a bag and closing its airtight zipper, the girl took off her thick gloves with satisfaction, blowing on her sweaty palms. It was an uncomfortable measure, but what can you do, rules are rules. Jewelry should not be handled roughly or touched with dirty hands. Unfortunately for themselves, those who stole them from her father's store did not follow this rule. Or they simply did not consider it necessary to comply with it. But these are details that Pauline wasn't particularly interested in. Taking a small handful of cool berries out of her purse again, she handed them to a magpie named Pin sitting on her left shoulder. — You did a good job, girls, — she assured her friends. ― But I'm afraid it's too early to relax. After all, our thief is not quite alive. I think we should take a closer look at him.

***

― So, let's summarize what we've learned? ― sitting on the food court of the mall with a glass full of ice to the brim and slightly diluted with soda, Danny popped cubes into his mouth like sweet candys, ignoring the surprised rare glances of random people passing by. — Not much,― Tucker complained, turning his tablet around to face his friends. News articles in foreign languages were opened in several tabs with photos of a familiar Gothic tent under a large headline or a group shot of people in black with their bodies and faces completely covered. ― The Gothic Circus used to belong to a certain Martine Schoenhauer and mainly toured Europe. The owner of the circus was a rather old woman, so some sources report that she left her position due to her age, handing over control to her son, and went to an unnamed nursing home. But this information is not accurate and looks more like rumors, even the journalists themselves write in their articles, and this says a lot. Isaac Schoenhauer is now officially listed as the owner, and for some reason they chose Mira Park for the debut of their family attraction for the first time in the United States. The main articles that talk about the relocation of this gloomy tent in Romanian and German are mainly devoted to scandals, outrages of local residents and conservative Christian communities who saw traces of the devil's activity in the performances of the themed circus. You have no idea how much effort it took to get even that information, Danny. — You did a great job, Tucker, ― the teenager patted his friend on the shoulder approvingly. In the end, it's even more than he could have dug out himself. ― But what does it give us? — Sam asked, slowly eating a fruit sherbet. — Actually, a lot of things, — Weston interjected, all the while connected by video call to their conversation through Danny's phone. ― While you and Sam were hanging around the circus, which I objected to, by the way, I found out something else through my mother's channels, using articles to track the circus's movements across countries. The first oddity is that after he came under the control of Isaac, reports began to appear about a series of thefts, which the locals attributed to a visiting circus. There was no evidence that anyone from the troupe was involved in these thefts, and he himself changed locations even before all these stories had time to become known to a wide range of people. For this reason, there are few reports of such cases in the news and they are usually interrupted by the information noise created by the righteous anger of offended believers and just parents who see this show as a threat to the child's psyche. There was no progress in the cases of a series of thefts, and the circus and its manager were not charged. All he was required to do was to put an age limit on all the posters and event programs. There were no other special problems. — Anything else? — Danny asked, popping another piece of ice into his mouth and watching as Tucker resumed actively typing on his tablet. — We haven't found any other serious punctures yet, there's nothing to catch on, — Wes spread his hands, sitting on a chair in his room. ― Circus workers did not complain about anything, there were no reports of violations or mistreatment of employees. — Or they just weren't taken seriously,― Sam interjected. ― You know, as it usually happens, at first the noise is raised by adults who are worried about modern mores. Then there are the material values, and after that, someone was humiliated at work, driven into slave conditions. And then if at least someone pays attention to it. Other people's lives are usually not as interesting as someone else's earnings. — There's something else! ― Tucker pushed the tablet closer to his friends again. ― The lightning news appeared just this morning. Several jewelry stores in Amity Park were robbed yesterday during and after closing. It was successful a couple of times, but in the last one, “24K", something went wrong. Witnesses describe that an Asian girl was involved in the attempted robbery of the latter, there is a sketch, but the details of what happened and how have not yet been disclosed. At least by more serious publications. The yellow press, as usual, writes some exaggerated game on the verge of adequacy and a gang of robber ghosts. ― In the past tried to bring a case of a series of thefts to the Gothic Circus, and as soon as he arrives in our city, reports of thefts immediately arrive. It's a strange coincidence, — Danny bit into the new ice cube, searching the article Tucker had shown him for a sketch of the suspect. A girl with short hair in a red dress and with beautiful dark narrow eyes shaped like an almond. — That's what I thought, too, — Tucker replied, wincing at the sound of the ice crunching. ― Maybe it's a coincidence, but it's too suspicious. — That's the ghost with the flowers we saw at the opening ceremony, — Danny said, giving Sam's sketch over so she could get a better look at it. ― One person! ― the girl exclaimed, looking at the photo. — Just today at the opening ceremony, she looked exhausted and beaten up, — Sam paused for a moment, analyzing the information she had received. ― I can't believe what I'm saying, but there seems to be some truth in what the yellow papers are broadcasting about a gang of ghost robbers. — And this girl is the only member of the troupe who isn't on any posters, — Danny remarked, handing the tablet back to Tucker. ― Send this to Wes. ― And what are we going to do with this information? Should we tell the police to check the circus because there's a ghost thief there? ― Wes raised a rather important question. Ghosts and, in general, any paranormal activity in a wide circle was perceived as complete nonsense. Despite his parents' recent research, Danny was well aware that the subtleties of scientific articles were of no interest to anyone except a narrow circle of readers, and the media conveyed information to the townsfolk so poorly that no one took reports of the Fentons' scientific discoveries seriously. And it would be foolish to hope for the sympathy of the masses when it comes to someone like Weston and the Birds: creatures that literally feed on blood. Danny could easily imagine how people would react, because he himself lived in the same house with one of them. Jack has already started whittling improvised high-tech aspen cokes. It was scary to even imagine what he and people similar to his temperament and views would do if there was too much talk about real vampires. — It's best to leave dealing with the law to Mrs. Weston. She's clearly better at this than we are. And it's not necessary to talk about the paranormal, especially to people, — Danny spoke somewhat monotonously, trying to put more effort into meaning rather than expression. It helped him to think more rationally and coldly only if he himself was not in a hurry. ― From the facts, we have a sketch of the suspect in the thefts. If you search the social network.If someone has already uploaded a photo or video from the opening ceremony, which will feature an actress similar to the sketch described. And there are witnesses who can say that this very suspect looked beaten up, just like Sam said. I think from this information, your parents, Wes, and their man in the police can putting the case together according to several articles without resorting to any mysticism. We can use this as an excuse for our “suspicious” actions if someone too curious, like my father, starts asking questions, — said the teenager. The elder Fenton certainly doesn't need to even hint at paranormal activity. Danny popped another piece of ice into his mouth, biting it like a candy. ― I think it will be possible to look there in the evening. Something tells us that this needs to be done, at least in order to better understand what is happening behind the scenes. — Are you going to go there? — Wes exclaimed, approaching the screen of his phone. — After everything we've found out? Are you crazy?! — I'm not asking anyone to come with me. Especially you, — Danny hastened to reassure his friend. ― I don't know how it happened, but it looks like the ghost girl is on a short leash at this circus. I've only seen this once, and it's not a pleasant sight to see a spirit under control, and it can really be dangerous, so I'm not going to get close to them either until I find out exactly what's going on there. But if what you described to me this morning is true, then the girl in red is not the only one in a similar position. I'm definitely not going to just ignore it. ― Danny, you don't understand, this could be even more dangerous than you think. Vampires can only be controlled if.. ― the connection was abruptly interrupted, and the phone screen went blank, finally showing a fully discharged battery icon. — About time,― Danny snorted, surprisingly feeling nothing but mild annoyance. The phone felt hot to the touch and it was hardly the temperature outside. The guy's gadget has often overheated lately due to overly active use and began to discharge faster because of this. ― Call Wes, guys, let him finish the thought. I'll find an outlet for now. ― When will you start carrying a power bank with you? — Tucker asked, taking a sip of his friend's soda out of old habit and gritting his teeth against the cold. — When it's really necessary, — Danny fished a charger out of his fanny pack and began to look around for an outlet. ― We are in a city, not in a remote forest. — We're in the Amity Park, buddy,― Tucker chuckled, shaking his head and handing his friend a cup of ice. ― The charging ports for each table on the food court have not yet been delivered here. Danny said nothing, taking his glass from his friend's hand. He did not see any particular problem in the lack of sockets at every table and pole, being in fact a guy who often spends time far from civilization since childhood. The nearest outlet was not far from a couple of old slot machines. They even carefully placed a table nearby for one, so that you could wait without standing or sitting on the floor. After getting comfortable, Danny watched as the phone's charge percentage slowly began to creep up and from a distance he watched his friends trying to contact Wes again. A shabby table and a view of the bustling crowd from a dark corner. There was something much more familiar about it, for a Phantom. Watching the world around him from the side, hearing the sounds of life is slightly muffled. He analyze, but not directly interfere in the lives of the living. That was about the same role as Danny himself: being a weird weak outsider from a weird family who was worth staying away from. With thoughts of the circus and the imprisoned spirit under someone's control, he surprisingly quickly moved down to something abstract, raising his head to the glass ceiling of the shopping center. The windows were dirty and covered with dust, through which only the diffused bright light of the sun penetrated. From the side, at the far corner of the roof, a large nest of seagulls could be seen, a typical analogue of pigeons in any coastal town. Birds swarmed behind the cloudy glass, leaving traces of webbed paws on it and translating the teenager's thoughts to thoughts about birds. About magpies. About Pauline. Following this logical chain, he suddenly realized that the last robbed store, according to a news article, belonged to the cheerleader's father, Mr. Sanchez. The unsuccessful robbery attempt took place there, and most likely, according to Mr. Sanchez's staff, and maybe himself, a sketch of the girl in red was compiled. Did Pauline recognize the ghost with flowers at the circus opening ceremony, or does she not delve into her father's problems? For some reason, my thoughts focused on the smart magpie who had so framed the hostess today, defiantly stealing some shiny trinket from one of the counters. A stupid coincidence that should be put out of his mind? A sharp and booming blow on the punching bag of a power meter wedged between the slot machines brought Danny out of his thoughts, drawing his attention to a gang of football players from Casper's school with Dash at the head. They were clearly having fun on a bet, hitting a pear and laughing when someone's punch came out weaker than the previous participant's. With a kind of special longing, Danny thought about how much the attitude of even the local bullies towards him had changed. On the one hand, it was expected. After what happened to the plane in the mountains of Colorado, any continuation of their interaction in the former role of “bully/ victim” was impossible. Only a complete bastard will continue to bully someone who has received the status of a “survivor in a meat grinder.” There were definite advantages to this, but sometimes Danny missed the opportunity to make ambiguous jokes about the high school football star, athlete, handsome and “definitely not gay,” as he usually did in retaliation for some trick of Dash. What was happening between him and the school environment now could not be called a movement in a positive direction, rather waiting for the already vivid event to be forgotten a little and it would be possible to start doing more familiar things again: to bully or ignore. It was unbearably dreary politeness, bordering on pity, which made both Phantom and Danny feel sick. ―Hey, Fenton! — Dash noticed him trying to be quiet and not show off. “Fenton... He didn't even distort our last name. Haw boring,” Danny thought, forcing a polite smile on his face, which quickly hurt his cheeks. Before the accident, before the portal incident, Danny often imagined in his fantasies how endless offensive bullying would end. How they start talking to him on equal terms. But having found my ghostly self, having gone through a certain amount of shit, he began to look at human ethics in principle in a slightly different way. In general, and in current relationships with others in particular, smelled of something rotten and completely inedible. — Since when do you walk alone? — The massive Baxter leaned against the flimsy old table where Danny was sitting, which made his legs creak pitifully and the table top tilt a little. — I'm not alone,― Danny explained briefly, pointing to the seat where Sam and Tucker were sitting, finally looking up from their conversation with Weston and paying attention to him. ― Just waiting for the phone to charge. ― Isn't it boring to wait while looking at the ceiling, “The Boy Who Lived"?, ― this joke seemed to be a balm for the soul. And not the most noticeable, but with a twist that you wouldn't expect from someone like Dash. ― You've been doing well in physical education lately, don't you want to participate in our competition? — Uh... ― Come on! Everyone is interested to know how much summer has affected you, — without letting Danny finish, Dash took him by the elbow and easily lifted him from his seat, leading him to a crowd of his friends who quickly surrounded him in anticipation of fun. It was unpleasant to be in the middle of a gang of football players. First of all, due to the fact that neither the Ghost nor Danny liked to be surrounded and cornered. Because of this, I wanted to bristle like an animal and show my fangs. But this time, he was also expected to act. Certain actions. “Which is worse, to screw up or to win?", — he asked himself, looking at the pear descending after the previous participant to the cheers and laughter of the surrounding people, who pushed Tucker and Sam away from him with their wide bodies, trying to come to their friend's rescue. “To be a weak loser who just got lucky to survive and who needs to be pitied... Is that our role?” A sharp blow to the bag shook the entire machine. The hooting of the school sports stars somehow abruptly subsided, while against the background of the ringing of the vending machine on the small screen, the red numbers stopped at three nines - the maximum possible figure that this thing was able to show. ― How long have you had such a blow? — asked one of Dash's team, whose name Danny still couldn't remember. — Not really, ― Danny said with a smile. A baggy oversized T-shirt and wide jeans hid his physique, visually making him many times thinner than he actually was. ― Mom has a black belt in karate. After breaking her leg, she started studying again to recover faster, and I just fitted in with the company. Finally getting out of the ring of school bullies, Danny went to the phone, which finally showed a digestible fifty percent charge. — I have to go, — he said with a smile, waving his hand and hurriedly packing up. ― Have a nice day. When he moved away from Dash's company to a safe distance, Sam tugged on his friend's T-shirt sleeve, attracting attention. — It wasn't very secretive, — she almost whispered. ― Secretly or not, I don't want to be the guy who just got lucky to survive, — Danny muttered, flexing his fist and knuckles. He made his choice hoping that the temporary pity from others would at least not be as duplicitous and vile as it was at the moment. — They were betting, — Tucker said, nudging his friend. ―What? ― Danny turned around and saw Dash collecting money from his friends and counting them, keeping the entire amount. ― This bastard bet on me!? — And he won... — Tucker adjusted his glasses, peering at the stack of green bills in Baxeter's hands. ― About a hundred and fifty dollars. Not bad. Dash had always seemed to him like a typical bully who bullied the weak simply because thay would nothing to do about it. But he bet on him. He was the only one of his teammates who bet that Danny would win this little competition. He was sure that the guy he had personally bullied for so many years could punch someone hard enough. Baxter knew that the guy he bullied in his own way was capable of fighting back, but he just didn't do it? But then what's the point? Why try to bully someone who can answer? The football player grinned at Fenton and winked at him, tucking the bills into his wallet before returning to his own, waving brazenly goodbye, while Danny clenched his fists until his knuckles were white and watched him go. He was obviously having fun. — Danny? — Sam touched her friend's shoulder worriedly, hardly understanding what had just happened between the boys. — Bastard,— Danny said with a satisfied smile, sharing the Phantom's excitement at their new role. ― Half of that money is mine.

***

“You don't have to take my word for it, but check it out for yourself. You can see everything in person.” ― Is an otherworldly entity calling me to the basement to show me something? It sounds like something you can definitely believe. “Don't be so sarcastic , dear. I'm a little limited in my movements right now, so I can't follow you even if I want to.” — Your spiders are all over the house. “Only on the second floor. They can't go any lower, and you can see that as soon as you get down.” Coincidence or not, as soon as the little demon disappeared into thin air, Maddy finally managed to get rid of the spider in her throat by spitting it out into her palm. The first thing she did was go down to the lab to compare the insect with the ones she had caught that morning, and later whant to scold Danny for putting himself in danger by keeping otherworldly stuff in the room without informing her or Jack. However, there was nothing to compare it with. Lying in the container, the insects curled up and shriveled, starting to literally fall apart. A thin pool of ectoplasm flowed under the corpses. Smeared on the glass container and drying quickly, it became more like some inconspicuous stains left after insufficiently thorough washing. Was such a quick death of insects a coincidence? Did they react to the change in altitude and pressure? Or maybe there was something in the lab that killed them? Maddie didn't know the exact answer to the question, but unfortunately for herself, she realized that Charlotte was right. The spiders did not survive, having descended below the second floor. And their diligent desire to get out was probably caused by an instinctive attempt to avoid death, to return to more comfortable living conditions. Did that mean that Charlotte was actually telling the truth? Maddy was doubtful. The ghost was vindictive, cruel, and deceitful. It had been less than a year since she had interacted with the little parasite the last time. Even people don't change in such a short period of time. What can we say about ghosts, for whom time is an ephemeral illusion. — How long have you been here? Why haven't you been noticed before? “The time... Time is a relative unit. By human standards, it's been a long time, I guess. According to my personal data, it's a couple of hours. And about the second question... You should be asking yourself that. I told you. The living don't understand the hints at all.” The ghost's words sounded strange. It was frightening to realize that the little demon had been so close all this time and just hadn't done anything on his own whim. Not just by the fact that there was an embittered and cruel something in the shell of a little girl all the time, for almost a year, but by the fact that her motives became completely incomprehensible to Maddie, as well as ways to get what she wanted. The demon was in no hurry, acting like a predatory plant. She sat in one place quietly and calmly, opening a colorful flower trap in the form of spiders. And Maddie bought it. She stepped into this trap, allowing the little demon to pull her into some kind of murky swamp. She followed the glowing bait like a small victim of a deep-sea anglerfish. Charlotte answered evasively. She avoided answering questions that she obviously didn't like. She avoided talking about anything that didn't relate to her obvious purpose in one way or another. The victim she chose was an even more naive Jack. Attempts to get her to talk, chat, or take her at her word proved futile. In the far corner of the laboratory, there was an inconspicuous door leading to another level below. “The basement of the basement," as Danny called it when he was a baby. There should have been old equipment and objects of their earliest research there now, which the tight-fisted husband was simply unable to part with. There were many questionable items and reports stored there, which now the woman would prefer not to show to anyone, and to erase the memory of those who saw them. These were things from the days of her and Jack's obsession. Bright and stormy, uncluttered by such silly and simple, as it seemed then, things like everyday life. Maddie realized now how naive she had been back then. Ignoring the public's opinion about herself and her work, she sincerely believed that reputation was not important. That it's just a zilch. “What difference does it make who and what thinks of us as people when there is irrefutable evidence?” Jack was saying then. But she didn't think that science wasn't a charming lady who flirted with young scientists, but a cruel and scrupulous old lady, like her own grandmother, who would ruthlessly wipe out everything you did for the slightest mistake, forcing you to start over. You can ignore it, you can pretend that the mistake is just a small error, but it was impossible to live in this illusion and not drown in your own fantasies. Only the reputation of the scientists actually helped to stay afloat, smooth out the corners after failures, making criticism of their early work at least a little more polite. While she was correcting mistakes, using her reputation as a scientist, Jack sometimes went ahead ignoring all doubts and arguments. As a result, the mild criticism became tougher and tougher for him each time, until it turned into a cruel mockery: “Fenton is crazy. He's going to start talking to mirrors soon, like that weirdo professor. What happened to him, by the way? It seems his relatives took him to an insane asylum, is he that carried away?” Maddy knew how she and her husband were perceived. But she realized too late that the reputation and trust in their research had become almost zero. She been working for a long time to fix this somehow. Jack was perceived by everyone around her as an anchor that pulls her to the bottom, a ballast that needs to be disposed of, and what Vlad said when visiting her in the hospital is another confirmation of that. But she loved him for something. How can Maddy just give up on someone you've lived and worked with for so many years? Leave him behind? Should she treat him the same way as a dog that a bad owner takes away from home and throws out of the car on the move? Opening the door to the basement, Maddie watched the lights slowly come on, remembering what Charlotte had told her. The little demon was terribly eloquent and skillfully played with words. Her speech was sometimes ornate and complex, but if she wanted to, she could squeeze a lot into a short phrase of perfectly chosen words. But the role of a moody ten-year-old girl obviously gave her special pleasure. — What are you doing in my son's room? “Ask him,” — Charlotte laughed, though her jaw was still clenched. She looked like an old talking doll whose voice came from anywhere but her mouth. Going down the steep stairs without a handrail with a sore leg was not an easy task. Maddie walked carefully, with unhurried steps, without putting too much strain on the limb in a special supportive bandage. She hadn't been to this place in a very long time. It was originally planned as Jack's lair, which he needed to mind his own business and take a break from everyday life. Her mother-in-law believed that men needed a place to be alone with themselves, because too much communication could tire them and turn them away from their family. This attitude of the elderly was the very reason why Maddy stayed away from them, and if possible, did not let the children near. Even the customs of the hillbillies from her native village and the habits of a strict grandmother did not seem so dense to her. It's a good thing that Jack didn't rely too much on the guidance of his own parents in terms of building a family. Even this place quickly turned from a workspace into an ordinary dusty warehouse. The only thing that distinguished it from the barn on the street was the relatively high value of the things stored here. From technology to objects that were previously famous for some kind of paranormal activity, which young researchers sought to know and study. Ouija boards, mystical artifacts, even the Iron Maiden. While the old computer was starting up and the dust creaked on the monitor from the electrical voltage, Maddy involuntarily shivered and turned to the iron sarcophagus with a woman's face. The empty eye sockets stared at her as if there was actually someone inside the thing at the moment. It seems that once the system unit is quiet, it will be possible to hear someone's breathing in the silence that follows, muffled by a layer of iron. “Jack, you can't put children in a medieval torture chamber,” — Charlotte mimicked her, as if she had actually been with them a few years ago, at the moment when an irritated woman scolded her husband for trying to punish children for some relatively innocent offense in the style of the medieval Inquisition. He'd made a bad joke, as it turned out, and had nearly driven her crazy with it. The fact that the little demon knew so much was not just frightening, but naturally terrifying. Little Charlotte was more than just an evil spirit killed by Jack Fenton's distant ancestor, according to the documents Jess found. — I'm tired of your insinuations. “Oh, don't get so mad, there will be another reason. The main thing is to remember the path: The Challenge. Maid. Danny.” Those were the last words before the demon disappeared into thin air, leaving her alone with a saliva-covered spider stuck in her throat. They made a lot more sense than the average Salem resident of the one thousand six hundred years could understand. More than a small child from the seventeenth century could have put into them, which was what Charlotte was, according to the information from the city archives during the active witch hunt. What she called was not a physical path, but a sequence of folders that needed to be opened on the hard drive to see what she wanted to show her. And it took Maddie a while to realize that. Maddy remember that “Challenge” was the name of all their early experiments related to attempts to establish contact with the other side. The acceptance of this information was difficult, because the girl who died many centuries ago simply could not know such terms. The ghost had clearly been among the living for longer than brief visits to the kids with the help of mirrors. She wasn't detached from reality, but had been living with people all these years? Have you watched the world change? Can a creature so ancient and obviously having seen much more than a mere mortal can see and analyze in his entire life, after more than three hundred years, remain just an offended child fixated on revenge? The folder naimd "Maid" should logically have been almost empty. All their experiments did not give much result, and Maddy considered it an unjustified risk to put any of them inside. After all, they already had children back then, who knows what would happen to them if one of their parents got hurt like that. By that time, they already had a pretty bad reputation among their neighbors as mad scientists. The police and people from other services added fuel to the fire, who visited the house after each excessively loud experience, ending in an explosion that worried or frightened the neighbors. An additional layer of files named “Danny” had a creation date roughly corresponding to her first serious business trip. The convention, which she had been trying her best for several years in a row to shake off her and her husband's status as freaks. To regain the trust of the scientific community at least a little. An important date, which opened the doors to the world for them, and interested the first sponsors. She had been away from home for almost two weeks at the time, and when she returned, she only realized how much she missed her children. “Maybe something happened without your participation?” — She remembered Vlad's words. “I can't give away the details of our conversations, Mrs. Fenton. But what I've heard from the boy is nothing but alarming.” — That's what Dr. Glumel said last year, when Danny started sleepwalking again after he and Jack had a big fight. Very explicit hints, which she ignored. “Can we talk, Mom?” Maddie had to stop reading reports and watching photos and videos. Large drops of tears fell from her eyelashes onto the dusty tabletop, quickly turning into dirty streaks. There were a lot of red flags. Too much. Starting with idiotic jokes about the development of weapons specifically for the killing of little-known life forms and ending with exorcism sessions conducted to help get rid of sleepwalking, which, according to deep conviction of Jack, was the result of obsession. “And I were so passionate about our work. By trying to gain recognition for the Fenton family name in the scientific world, and I completely ignored all of this!" — Maddie scolded herself, barely able to hold back her sobs. ― What are you trying to achieve? “In a global sense, you probably won't understand my goals and desires. But at the moment, I want to get Jack Fenton's immortal soul to play with for a long time.” — What makes you think I'm going to let you do that? “Because I know things about him that would make you want the same thing.” ― Honey, I'm home! — Her husband's voice sounded muffled from the upper floors. Echoing repeatedly from the walls of the iron-upholstered laboratory and the high ceilings of the basements. Looking up towards the voice, Maddie seemed to be trying to see her husband's massive figure through the layers of iron and concrete, feeling her heart grow cold, starting to beat surprisingly slowly and calmly. Her head was slightly dizzy from the abundance of information I had received in one morning. It was hard to breathe from the storm of emotions she had experienced in such a short period of time, and the basement dust only made it more difficult. She turned back to the computer monitor. The old system unit groaned noisily, trying to shake the dust off the cooler blades. It was not safe to store any information here, because the old equipment could bend at any moment along with everything she had seen. — Honey, what are you doing here? — Jack's voice radiated cheerfulness and energy as usual. — I thought I'd seen the spider specimens I found in our bedroom earlier, — she replied, folding up all the folders. ― I thought it was somewhere in one of the old jobs that we abandoned, but this piece of hardware freezes a bit. — Oh, old Macintosh is already really bad, — the man drawled nostalgically. ― But once upon a time, you and I were so happy that we managed to acquire this miracle of technology. — I'll transfer some of the files to a new hard drive just in case, — Maddy got up from her seat, leaning more on the table than on her bad leg. The dust clung filthily to his hands. ― Maybe something else will be useful. — Darling, what's wrong? — the man asked, coming closer and peering into his wife's face: into her reddened eyes and wet eyelashes. — It's very dusty in here, — she replied, forcing a smile. ― Something got into my eyes while I was wiping it off the monitor. I've told you for a long time that such things need to be covered with an awning.

***

It was surprisingly cool under the dark black awning. There was very little light here, and in the light twilight, greenish growths glistened noticeably on the exposed body areas of some of the workers who were finishing the last preparations before the evening debut of Circus Gothic on the new continent. Recently, these creatures have been completely unable to work in sunlight, and even spectacular ultraviolet lamps had to be abandoned after the aerialists started smoking in their light during one of their last performances. The audience was satisfied, which is certainly good, but because of this, the troupe lost two artists, who were fried almost to a crisp. ― Weak creatures, — the man muttered, sitting on a large wooden coffin wrapped in chains. —In the old legends, vampires didn't know fatigue, illness, or pain, but what did I get instead of indefatigable employees born to obey? He looked at one of their thinnest and most inert creatures, a girl who couldn't have been more than fifteen years old. Blonde with two thin pigtails and pale gray eyes, she looked more like a mouse than one of the circus performers who was usually applauded by the entire auditorium. The girl was collecting magician's props while sitting on the very first bench of the spectator stand. She was breathing fast and only with her mouth. This girl was picked up in Romania just a couple of years ago, and she was already bending over, unlike the oldest specimen from the corpse that lay in the coffin right under it. — Kids aren't good for anything these days, are they? ― said the man, slapping the lid of the coffin a couple of times, from which came a muffled growl, which caused the man to laugh dryly. ― Are you still showing character? Life doesn't teach you anything, does it? The lips with a painted smile stretched into a sinister snarl. The scarlet head of the cane flared up, and the fog inside began to spiral. The eyes of the girl on the bench flashed with a blood-red light. Her hands, busy assembling the complicated mechanism of the vanishing trick box, froze, trembling slightly. All the other members of the troupe continued to work, keeping their heads low and trying not to look in the direction of the master of ceremonies. — Only spectators who bring us income, not dirty animals, can sit on the benches of the stands, — the man said, passing all the words through the crystal sphere, as if through a microphone. The girl slowly got to her feet, staggered slightly towards the exit of the circus tent. No one dared to stop her when she pulled down the canopy, letting a stream of hot summer air into the dome. Putting her left hand under the bright white light of the midday sun, she did not scream as she watched blisters form on her skin, as if boiling water was being poured onto her almost transparent skin. ― That's enough,― the master of ceremonies said lazily. The scarlet vortex in the ball went out and the girl abruptly recoiled from the exit of the tent, crying out briefly. Walking back, she did not understand the way and, tripping over a toolbox, collapsed to the ground, mechanically trying to keep her tense, burned hand in the air. She moaned softly through clenched teeth, curled up in a ball and kicking the dust with her feet. No one dared to come up and help her, for fear of becoming the one who would join someone else's punishment for the company. — This will be the case as long as you continue to resist order, — the man addressed the black coffin. ― But don't worry, I won't kill them as long as they bring benefits and money... Speaking of money, — he snapped his fingers, settling himself more comfortably on the coffin lid. A child in a red dress materialized in the air next to him. Looking at the world with empty, completely black eyes, he did not express any emotions. His gaze was focused on a single point somewhere ahead and he clearly didn't care about what was happening. — You were an example of obedience to everyone here until last night, Liu, — the man touched the ghost's temple with his fingers. ― A perfect strong shell without a hint of will. It's amazing that for centuries my family preferred to subdue pathetic bloodsuckers, rather than find a way to tame a more profitable and interesting animal. Almost tenderly, he pressed his hand in a worn black glove to the cheek of the spirit, who was still standing like an idol and did not even move. It was impossible to distinguish him from a mannequin or an elaborately made wax statue. The delicate features of the face were slightly marred by death, and the eyes of such a beautiful shape lost all vivacity. — What happened yesterday that you couldn't follow my orders properly? ― a man cooed with special tenderness with his beloved slave, even when he scolded him. “I was following orders,” — the voice echoed faintly through the semi―darkness under the dome of the circus. The Spirit did not know how to answer questions. He had no thoughts of my own at all. The perfect tool that the owner blamed for his own failure. — Everything is clear with you, ― the man said, slightly disappointed, pushing the child away from him, but he did not even stagger. He remained standing like a jade statue, as if rooted to the ground. Not a single muscle twitched on his face, not a single hair on his head moved, and not a single fold of his red dress moved. Only the circus owner snorted in annoyance. ― Okay, so be it, I forgive you for this mistake. After all, this is your first offense in the last ten years of faithful service. I'll give you another chance today, but I expect you to give me the perfect result, just like before. “Yes,” — the spirit's voice sounded colorless and monotonous. — What perfect obedience, — the master of ceremonies leaned back against the ghost, cupping his chin and running his thumb over his cold, bloodless lips. ― I'll tell you in detail what to do, but first... Circus workers tried not to look in the direction of the owner. One of them took advantage of the fact that the man was obviously busy right now and quietly helped a girl with a burned hand, who was crying silently while still lying on the ground, to get up. Frick was watched by only one pair of reddish eyes of a curious bird peering under the heavy canopy of a circus tent. It watched carefully, trying not to miss a single detail. Listened and memorized every word he said.

***

There was a soft knock on the window. The familiar ringing blows of the hard beak on the glass made Pauline smile excitedly. ― Finally, — she exhaled, lifting the wooden frame. But on the windowsill, among the pots of wormwood, sage and lavender planted on the street, a magpie was sitting panting from the unbearable heat of the day. — Come in quickly, Button, or you'll get sunstroke soon. The bird quickly darted into the coolness of the room, perching on the outstretched hand of the hostess. Inside, the portable electric stove on the girl's desk hummed softly. In a small pot, a fragrant drink that looked like ordinary tea was slowly boiling on it. Pin was dozing in a small makeshift nest made of an old fluffy shawl and lazily squinting, enjoying the air currents from the outdoor fan. Pauline did not turn on the air conditioner, fearing that her feathered friends might get sick. ― Oh, I was already starting to worry about you, — the girl shared her emotions, gently scratching her under the beak. ― There's not much left. I hope everything will be clearer this time. She held out her hand with the Button over the bowler hat. The bird dipped its head into the whitish steam coming from it, inhaling its fragrance. The reddish beady eyes quickly moistened and a bird's tear rolled down the sharp beak into the pot. Falling into the boiling liquid, she slowly began to color it in a dark purple color. It was thick and intense, like magpie's memory. — Now the main thing is not to rush, ― Pauline said more to herself, releasing the bird to her twin. She took hold of a small iron spoon on a long twisted handle and began to slowly stir the brew, watching as the drink slowly turned purple completely, making all the herbs inside white to transparency. Sucking out all the remaining juices from them. ― Last time, I did it more for fun. I wanted to check if it was possible to look at the answers to the annual test in this way. It seems like such irrelevant nonsense now, but it still gave me some experience, right? ― Pauline watched all the herbs slowly dissolve in the brew. The drink turned from dark purple to a delicate purple and almost transparent. ― I was too hasty that time and your memories didn't completely disappear. I hurried to do something. I wanted to try everything so much already, but this time I can't let that happen. She carefully took the spoon out of the pot, tapping it three times on the edge of the dishes to shake off the drops of priceless memories. This time, her goal wasn't some stupid test that she'd never really cared about, but something more serious. — That ghost of the girl in red looked different today, — Pauline slowly turned off the stove and picked up a pair of homemade potholders with embroidery in the form of her favorite magpies, which did not come out too well and was not suitable for decorating a new dress. ― She looked strange at all. Like an empty doll... It's weird that I'm talking about this now, isn't it? After all, they usually call me an empty doll. Carefully, trying not to spill a single drop, the girl filled her favorite porcelain cup with a purple decoction, admiring how the sunlight reflected from the surface of the drink. This time, she hoped that she had done everything right and perfect. ― When I hurried to remove the broth from the fire, the memories turned out to be fuzzy and inconsistent. They flashed through my head like an annoying slideshow and turned out to be only partially useful. And then I had a headache for almost two days. That's what bad organization do to the things you do. They begin to collapse like a human pyramid, at the very bottom of which they put insufficiently strong and prepared team members. Pauline took the cup in both hands and carefully brought it to her lips, inhaling the fragrance. The memory fragment smelled of undercooked meat and salt. A combination that made Pauline seriously frown and, closing her eyes, take several large sips, gulping down the contents. The eyes under her eyelids darted from side to side, analyzing what they saw, and with each passing second the girl became whiter and whiter, but continued to stare. They were slender, consistent, and crystal clear, but this time she wasn't happy about that quality. — What an abomination! — She couldn't stand it, starting to spit out what she had just seen. — Damn pervert, how old was that boy? Thirteen?! It was impossible to see back what he had seen. The boy in the red dress, under whose skirt the hand of an adult man in gloomy makeup got into, was forever imprinted in her memory and now she will not forget it, even if she completely throws the drink out of her stomach. Just like she won't forget what this freak said to him in the process of molesting him. ―Damn freak,― Pauline said, wiping the saliva mixed with the remains of the drink from the corner of her lips. Rage and disgust filled her completely. — It's not enough that you sent this poor guy to do your dirty work, but it's also this. Would I be even a little surprised if I found out how you had such an obedient ghost on a short leash? The magpies anxiously jumped up on their paws, jumping around their mistress and looking into her eyes. The familiars felt the power of someone else's outburst of emotions and they clearly did not like it, because Pauline was usually uncharacteristic of such a palette of feelings. She calmed the birds with a gesture, stroking their soft feathers on their heads. — I need to consult with my grandmother,― Pauline said, glancing out the window. Behind the low houses and neat roofs of the residential area, the dark houses of the old town could be seen, at the abandoned railway station of which the gloomy circus “Gothic” was located.