Alchemy of Blood. Olga Shakirovna Isyanova

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      The man looked up from his paperwork and finally turned his attention to the girl.

      “Selene, there you are. Fine,” he said with a tight smile, tucking the folded papers into the inside pocket of his black jacket.

      Prince Adrian ruled the vampire empire for more than a thousand and a half years, raising it from the ashes of disparate clans and uniting all vampires under his powerful hand. He established centralized power, created a code of laws and punishments that put an end to centuries of chaos and violence. His wise policy was followed by the leaders of other supernatural races, who recognized the wisdom and power of unified government. Selene always respected the Prince and supported his views, but there were also those who did not share her opinion.

      “Our scouts have captured a suspected spy from the First Pack,” the Prince began without preamble. “He entered the city a few days ago and was collecting information.”

      Selene frowned at the news. Why would the werewolves send a spy? She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it than met the eye.

      “What makes you so sure it’s a spy?” she asked after a moment’s thought. “Perhaps he came for another purpose?”

      Adrian shook his head, “If that were the case, he would have come to court first, as he should,” he replied, pacing the room nervously, hands clasped behind his back. “Yes, we made a peace treaty with the previous Elder Alpha, but who knows if the new one will follow it?”

      His pale, usually unreadable face was tense and anxious, even in the dim candlelight. Selene understood the reason for his agitation: the Prince and the Elder Alpha had once been allies, if not friends. The unexpected death of the werewolf leader a few years ago shocked and saddened the entire supernatural world. Together, the two leaders reached an agreement that ensured a fragile peace between their peoples. But after the new Alpha ascended to the throne, there was turmoil among the werewolves. Many did not share the radical views of the new leader and deserted from the First Pack. Others, on the contrary, flocked to it, strengthening its ranks.

      “Maria is currently interrogating the prisoner, but so far to no avail,” Adrian said with a wry smile. “Do it while there’s still something left of him. You know how much she gets carried away sometimes. As soon as you’re done, let me know immediately.”

      Selene, trying to hide her annoyance, left with a bow.

      ***

      Selene grew increasingly uneasy as the elevator sank into the depths of the dungeon. The oppressive atmosphere of the upcoming interrogation weighed heavily on her. She had hoped for a quick and painless testimony, avoiding a scene of bloodshed.

      The smooth elevator doors swung open, looking out of place on the old, damp stone of the dungeon. Selene approached the massive metal door and entered the access code. The surveillance camera was like a cyclopean eye, watching her every move intently. The green light came on, and the door slid open with a crash.

      Animal howls and desperate human screams reached Selene’s ears. She strode resolutely down the narrow stone corridors, her heels clicking loudly.

      The detention cells were located opposite each other. As she neared the right camera, Selene’s sense of smell picked up the sharp smell of a wolf mixed with the metallic tang of blood. Finally, as she turned the corner, she saw Thomas and Greg, the Prince’s bodyguards, standing at the end of the corridor. Together with Maria and Selene, they formed the Prince’s Personal Guard – an elite group of clan members who performed particularly important tasks.

      The bodyguards, dressed in severe black doublets, stood silently in front of the cell’s entrance. Their faces and clothing bore the marks of a recent battle. There were fresh wounds on their skin that were just beginning to heal. Noticing Selene’s approach, the vampires started up.

      “Here comes the ‘good’ cop,” Greg said, smiling and narrowing his bright red eyes.

      “You look amazing, boys, go freshen up,” Selene suggested, walking over to them.

      “Yeah, we look pretty good. That big guy was a tough nut to crack,” Thomas said, tugging at his clothes as if that might help.

      There was another roar outside the door. Selene glanced at the guardians with displeasure. Thomas averted his blue eyes, and Greg grinned into his beard.

      “Come on, let the girl have some fun,” he said.

      “Open it,” Selene ordered, nodding toward the door.

      Greg punched in the access code, and Thomas opened the door, inviting her inside. The first thing Selene saw was a bold and bloodthirsty look in those huge scarlet eyes. Maria had a smile on her face that made her look like a creepy porcelain doll.

      She was so tiny that she was almost as tall as the prisoner who was kneeling. The girl was standing behind him, running pale fingers through his snow-white hair.

      The man was breathing heavily, head down. His white shirt was stained with blood. Wavy hair, just below his shoulders, was soaked with sweat and fell over his face. His hands were shackled in front of him.

      An enchanted silver collar, attached to the floor with a thick chain, on which shone the bindrun of the god Tyr, who once bound the divine wolf Fenrir, prevented the werewolf from turning.

      “That’s enough, Maria,” Selene said calmly. “I’ll handle it myself.”

      “I can do just fine without you,” Maria chirped, and her smile widened, making her plump cheeks dimple.

      “You can’t, or I wouldn’t be here,” Selene said coldly. “The Prince needs information, not a mess of wolf’s brain.”

      Selene was annoyed that the Prince was indulging Maria’s sadistic tendencies, allowing her to use her gift to harm others. Maria could reach into people’s minds and read their past, causing unbearable pain. And the harder the victim resisted, the more suffering they experienced.

      Maria stared at Selene for a few seconds, her short-cropped blond head cocked to one side. Then, she deliberately walked towards the exit. Greg and Thomas watched in silence from the doorway.

      Selene walked over to the prisoner and squatted down in front of him. She gently lifted his head by the chin and looked up into his face.

      As is often the case with immortals, it was not easy to determine his age at first glance. He could have been about forty or six hundred years old. His face, pleasant and noble, like streams of rain on glass, trickled blood from his eyes, nose and the corners of his mouth.

      He was gnashing his teeth, his square jaw tense. The werewolf lifted his eyelids with an effort, and Selene’s silver gaze met the gold of his eyes. They stared at each other for a few moments, then his eyes closed again and his head fell limply on the broad chest.

      Selene looked down at his cuffed hands and noticed a round gold ring on the middle finger of his right hand. It showed the Fenrir wolf leaping to swallow the sun. Without knowing why, she touched the ring, but then she pulled her hand away – it was so cold that it burned her fingers. She even thought she heard a low growl somewhere on the edge of consciousness.

      As she straightened up and took another look at the captive, Selene realized that СКАЧАТЬ