17

Jordan Helks didn't want to leave on principle.

When Friedrich sent him away, something unpleasant was still sitting in his brain.

He was always chasing the company at a distance at which, he hoped, his scent would not be felt.

Things like sniper sight points are one of the few things that people have learned to recognize much better than animals.

A sniper is always bad.

Jordan put aside his fear and approached. When he saw two wolves grappling, he froze for a second.

"How beautiful she is, the northern queen..."Helks thought and, pushing a couple of branches aside, resolutely climbed up.

Friedrich was somewhere very close, Jordan could hear him swearing now.

Helks grabs the sniper's arm and pulls the rifle in his direction. If it's a wolf, it's extremely slow, even worse if it's a human...

A shot whistled and something like a bowling ball falls down on the snow.

The sniper's head...

Jordan grabs the rifle tighter and jumps up, grabbing another branch with his other hand - this one still couldn't stand it.

Crunch. Dry shot.

Jordan didn't even remember how his hands opened.

He think his bones cracked... or twigs?

The taste of blood in his mouth...

***

Wentforth had been shot in the shoulder and was lying on the ice now, assuming human form.

He no longer had the strength.

Olga, noticing that almost everyone was already there, forgetting about the fight, got up and also turned back into a person.

— Just one last step...—She said softly, picking up the sword from the ice.

She thought of taking her sword first, but it would be better to kill the viper with her own poison.

It seems that Karsten has already resigned himself. No, it's even better to remove the word "it seems".

Wentworth looked calmly into the eyes of his death.

— Come on...— he whispered.— Finish me off...—

— If I could make you suffer the way I suffered...—Olga raised her sword.

— And yet I love you and always...—suddenly he whispered hoarsely in Spanish, smiling sadly.

A blow... A hit...

And everyone knelt before Olga Karsten, the new queen of the north.

Olga stuck her sword deeper into the ice.

— Glory to the Queen!—suddenly someone shouted and everyone echoed him.

All those who remained alive.

***

Friedrich was found a little deeper in the forest.

— Jordan!! Jordan! No...— the slanted eyes turned red.

— I'm sorry...— Maria approached the bloody Helks.— Friedrich! He's still alive! Not so much that medicine could save him...—

— It's too early for him to die...—Friedrich said sadly.— I know we should have asked him... Come on.—

Maria cut her hand and squeezed drops of blood into Jordan's mouth.

— Bury it in the ground, and with darkness you will come here. We will help you dig...— said the girl.— His character, however, will be terrible at first ... —

***

Olga was looking at the notes.

— Sell all the houses, and Friedrich is appointed my personal secretary!— she said.—You will bring the money from the sale to me in cash. Burn all photos of Wentworth. Release the captives.—

— Hey, Queen! Don't you want to pay attention to me?—Vegard, already normally and cleanly dressed, but with a wet head, approached her.

His golden hair shone in the light of the sun and this picture was truly the most beautiful.

Olga admired her husband.

Suddenly Mathias the kitten, sitting on her shoulder like a parrot, meowed indignantly.

— Jealous.—Olga grinned.—When I'm done with my business, we'll go into the bedchamber. I saw a fabulously large bed. Anyway, we'll have to live here now...—

The residence has stopped looking so gloomy.

Although it still smells of death here, this place became more alive, changed its appearance ...

***

The royal residence changed its appearance, the walls and facade turned from crimson-red to emerald-green, the appearance became more regal than pompous.

Olga took one of Wentworth's favorite paintings off the wall. When she lived here as the king's wife, she hated this "Execution in Valencia". Vampires on pillars and the sun is rising...

She has never loved genocides and will never love them.

Olga will try to teach vampires and werewolves to live without fighting and not to attack people.

Stefan walked past her chambers swaying.

— I think I'm lost...— the guy said softly.

— Are you drunk?—Olga asked him.

—That's right, ma'am!— the guy nodded, shaking his disheveled growing hair.

— Stefan, it won't be long! Over here!— Bjorn called him somewhere further down the corridor and the younger Martensson wandered there like a robot.

Vegard was choosing a T-shirt from his small assortment.

— Has the current been turned on yet?—he asked.

— Yes, you can turn on the TV if you want. I'll have breakfast served in bed.—

Olga froze in place when she heard a news report:

"...These creatures are referred to in the records as werewolves and vampires..."

Maria jumped out into the corridor, breaking off the kiss with Christophe.

"...The videos were checked for forgery and the videos turned out to be authentic. We invite you to view some of the submitted material..."

The story of Wentworth Carsten, written in blood.

He was born in an eclipse. On the day when 66 people died.

Therefore, his parents considered him cursed.

This boy's heart was making slow, quiet beats, his skin was cool.

This non-human was called Wentfort...

***

His mother saw how, at the age of 12, her baby moved on all fours on the ground like a dog.

It could be considered an innocent child's game, but in addition to this, her boy was also growling.

— Wentworth... Wenny...— Regina went outside and felt a chill of fear creeping into her bones.

Wentforth only responded with a low growl.

Richard, Regina's husband and Wentworth's father, went outside with an axe.

— Honey, go inside.— he ordered his wife.— I noticed it a long time ago...—

His strength was not enough against the child.

Wentworth bit his axe hand and threw it aside.

His face began to grow fur quickly.

— Oh, my God! Werewolf! Regina, go hoooooo...—the scream stopped.

Wentworth was grinning at his mother.

In the hands of the child was the father's head...

***

Rodi is the only one in the world whom Wentfort Karsten trusted.

The guy didn't even ask for Rody's full name, from the first second he was just pleased to be around.

— You're a werewolf.—Rody said, gutting the rabbits he had caught.—So am I.—

— Why are you throwing out the guts? It's good giblets and extra food!— the guy exclaims indignantly.

— Are you eating guts too? It is better to throw away the giblets if possible, otherwise you will get sick. Only one small particle is important here.— a tiny crimson piece remained in Rody's hands.— The heart. In any slain creature, the heart contains all the powers. If one of us dies, then the second one will have to take the skills of the killed one for himself.—

Rody's voice was quiet and calm, drowning out the fire that was raging in Wentforth.

Eating rabbits ended unnaturally for Wentworth with a comfortable overnight stay.

Rody seemed to know absolutely everything about the forest. He made a big bed in a huge old hollow made of needles and leaves, he closed the hole of the hollow with woven branches.

How good it is to have your own fortress!

As a boy, having discovered his abilities, Wentworth did not understand that there is such a thing as trust... And now it seemed to him that he realized that it was...

— You are like that... you are so... good?— the guy whispered with some doubt.

It seemed to him that everything he said would lose its charm, which these words have in mind...

Rody was already asleep. Wentworth longed to look at him, but alas. It was impossible to get up here...

***

Riding horses increasingly seemed to be an unpleasant business for Wentworth. Even as a little boy, he felt that the horses were afraid of him, and now the guy has passed twenty-five.

— I'll walk, Rody.— He said angrily. —it's better to wipe your feet in the blood than to ride a mare! —

— Wentworth! Sit down! Get on a horse, there's someone riding!—Rody hissed.

— Why?— the guy exclaims indignantly.

After all, his trust in Rody took over.

— Oooooh, I see the fugitive king is here!— suddenly there is a grin.

— What are they about?— Wentfort tries to drive closer to Rody, but he suddenly threw his bag on his saddle and hit the horse with a backhand hand:

— Run away! Keep my bag safe!—

The horse jerked as if all the demons of hell had scared it.

Wentworth was hit on the head with a bag, but he still did not let go of the burden.

Blood poured down his temple and plunged the world into darkness ...

***

Wentfort woke up at the old oak tree.

He did not feel sad now, anger ran through the blood vessels like an icy fire, it pricked and swelled the body.

A practically blue Rody was sitting next to him.

— You kicked me out!—fierce eyes flashed.— You so calmly took and kicked me out, Rodi! Like some kind of puppy! As if...—

— You are very important to me, that's why I sent you away. Wentworth... You can't be mad at the whole world. I love you and that's why I don't want to lose you...—The pale man said softly. His face was contorted with pain.

Stroking the guy's hair, Rody hugged Wentworth and looked at the sparkling flames of the campfire.

—You're very dear to me, Wentworth... You've become like a son to me. In other things, you are also suitable for age...—

—- Well, you!—Wentworth chuckles, a little morally withdrawn.

It seems to him that everything is fine again...

***

Wentworth Karsten has never been afraid, maybe this is a bad quality. Or maybe not, because he has practically no equal in battle.

Every day Rodi is getting worse and worse, he is getting worse and worse.

— It's bleeding again.—Wentworth said, examining his friend's handkerchief.

— Come on. Not for the first time and not for the last. I'll be fine, I'll be fine very soon...—

They pass through five villages, he often notices that Rodi does not sleep even sometimes for weeks. The pain keeps him awake.

— So why did they call you "king", those people from the forest? And you killed them?— one morning, Wentworth was bombarding a man with questions in an old barn where they were allowed to spend the night for a couple of coins.

— Maybe you can help me with polishing first? There are a lot of things to do, and we will soon be driven out of here...— the breath breaks into a quiet cough.

— Come on.— Wentfort takes out of the bag what Rody has been sitting with for so long in the morning.

The crown is strange, it smells of animals and grass.

The rag already smells strongly of some unpleasant mixture.

— Beautiful... is that your crown?—Wentfort asks, rubbing the crown.

— Well... How to explain it to you more precisely... Crown is mine for now. But I was made to promise that I would give her only to the one she chooses...— Rody blew the composition off the crown.— It doesn't hold on my head, it burns my skin.—

— It burns?— the guy asks perplexedly.

— Yes. I don't want to show it. You'll see when the crown chooses the right one...—inhale, exhale, cough and blood again.

— You feel bad again... We need to go to the healer to find out what kind of ailment it is... It's bad, the disease never goes away without consequences. Have you been ill for a long time?—the guy asked, dipping a rag into the water.

— Get up, we have to go... And there is nothing to talk about any nonsense!—

They packed up in silence. Yes, and there were a lot of things that the cat cried. Just their beds, made of all kinds of rags.

The saddle hurt his back and something lower.

The horse bucked a little and the old bruise on the inside of his thigh ached to tears.

Such a wild pain...

Wentworth mentally cursed the horse for what it was worth and began to dangle his legs in order to accidentally pry and kick the old mare.

If Rody didn't cherish these grumpy mare sisters so much, he would have definitely killed his own...