I headed for the pedestrian passage between the two gardens, and before I crossed the shadow line, I knew what I would do. I will simply try to buy the van advertised by the missing tradesman Kolonov. I'll see what turns out of it. Before that, however, I wanted to learn something about the local environment. And I'll start by getting to know the nightlife.

I decided not to return straight to the hotel, I took a detour through the park lining the side of the main road towards Khust. It seemed bigger to me than I remembered, today, on one side of it, according to the map, the School District was situated. There used to be small ugly houses, though I can't remember what was in them. Today, artificially created nooks, to which the street lighting has been adapted to create romantically darkened places.

Someone was waiting in one. He smoked, or at least recently spent considerable time in a very smoky environment. Healthy food probably wasn't on his diet, and he drunk a lot of beer. Not today, more like yesterday.

I forgot how oversensitive my senses can be, in fact I deliberately suppressed them for a long time so that they would not remind me of certain things. When I did not register the smell of freshly planted explosives, I allowed myself to use at least part of my innate abilities. But here the sensitivity returned to me unexpectedly. And to a level I didn't think was possible. Maybe it was because I came home. Maybe because the whole pack was endangered. Maybe.

There were four. One smoked, the other regularly drank a large quantum of beer, the third a drug addict and the fourth - I could not say anything interesting about him. Otherwise, they all smelled similarly, with their neglected clothes and unwashed bodies.

"Dude, your wallet," the beer guy said.

"And shoes, pants, and underpants," the smoker chuckled.

He liked humor, that's basically a positive trait.

"Let's take him down," the addict growled

It wasn't about wallet, that was clear.

A metallic sound, it took me a moment to figure out what it was: the fourth was putting on a boxer with a ring on his finger.

"Here it is," I said, reaching into my pocket and handing the beer guy my wallet.

He liked how easy it was; he reached for it, light reflecting off his hair in the darkness. It was very bright, he probably dyed it himself. I let go of the wallet, when his hand was inches away, and he instinctively tried to grab it in the air. He lowered his hand and leaned forward slightly.

I grabbed his palm, pulled him close, twisted his arm at the same time, and positioned him against the boxer who was already on the move. They collided with grace, and for a second their arms tangled together. Without thinking, I took the boxers head in my hands, and before he even realized what was going on, I gently pushed his eyes deep into the skull, but it almost caved in instead. Oh well.

I used his dying body as a support, and did a back kick. I could hear a cracking sound when my leg connected with the beer guys chest, sounded like two, no three ribs. He ended up on the ground, but it seemed he'd survive.

Pop-up knife click.

The smoker still did not understand that he had just moved from the village championship to the super league. But he swung the knife very quickly, though a little awkwardly. These are the worst.

There was a bench right next to me. I pulled one of the boards out of it, it was harder than I expected, but I succeeded. Only when I broke through both of his hands at the same time did I realize that it was, in fact, a reinforced concrete pillar. Maybe I overdid it.

The junkie was now the only one left.

He stood in the deepest shadow, all I could distinguish were his eyes. Pupils a little too big, he took something.

"Run," I sighed.

There was no point in hurting him.

As if saying a magic word, he raised his hand, which he held loosely along his body the whole time. I didn't see it because he was wearing a loose ruffled cloak or poncho, or something like that. It was too dark for me too.

That motion was his last. I lunged at him with inhuman speed, and holding the concrete pillar like a sword, I drove it into his chest ending his life instantly.

This time I definitely overdid it.

Damn. I've been cursing a lot lately.

All I could hear was my own quick breathing, and feel the first drops of sweat on my forehead in the cold air as usual after a fight. I looked around.

The beer guy lay curled up in a ball, focusing only on himself. I didn't have to kill him. The smoker was in a similar situation, concentrating on his broken hands instead. I didn't have to kill him either. He won't remember anything. At the same time, however, I didn't need a forensic expert to investigate what amount of force had to be exerted to pierce the torso with such a blunt tool. What I had to do was nothing pleasant, but I had to cover my tracks. I took a breath, yanked the concrete club from the torso, and began pounding systematically on the dead body, until it lost its human shape and turned into a bag made of skin, which was full of crushed entrails and shattered bones. That should be enough. They won't have a clue what happened here.

Now I was panting like an old steam locomotive pulling a row of heavy wagons behind it.

The whole encounter did not last more than two minutes, and most of it led to a disgusting butcher's conclusion. I looked around for any witnesses, though I had no idea what to do with them. The park remained calm. I chose the path to get out of here. On the grass, among the bushes that will allow me to get out of sight of random pedestrians - if I crouch.

I stepped forward, and the moment I did so a train swept me away. If I didn't turn my toe at the moment of contact with the ground, along with bending my shoulders and throwing myself into a rotating motion, the blow would kill me. The graze alone was enough to send me flying three meters away into a lousy roll over my shoulder. I didn't get up, instead with my back on the ground I kicked out in front of me, hitting something I saw as a blur.

It was fast, light and damn tough. During the little fraction of time the kick gave me, I rejected the idea of ​​escape, and it was a mistake.

A big one.

I jumped to my feet, this time I could see him clearly. But he was closer than I expected, and before I knew his fist was blocking my view. I covered the first blow with my forearm, the second slipped on my shoulder, the third on my temple. I didn't register them, the blocks were just instinctive. But I already grasped his neck and was about to crush it, when he suddenly shot me in the stomach. No, he did not, he just swiftly hit me with both hands at the same time, but it hurt the same nonetheless, if not more. I flew through the air and slammed into a tree. Before he got close again, I was able to stand up. It took him a second longer, as he slipped a step back in response to his blow. God bless Newton' third law.

I couldn't breathe, but it had to wait. My last chance was the kukri knife.

This time he did not follow with fists, but chose a high side kick. I knew it in advance, his body told me that, but I just couldn't match the speed. It felt like another damn train. I was starting to lose the count of how many times I was sent flying already. At least this time I somehow landed on my feet after performing a somersault. A drop of blood hit the ground, I wanted to cut his stomach open, but a deep wound on his hip had to do.

That would be enough for a human, but not him.

Before I managed to take a second breath, I found myself on the ground again, second kick found my ribs, another one my head, followed by legs. With each kick, he broke one of my bones and threw me further away. Then I landed on something smelly, greasy and still warm. The guy I killed.

Another blow, the gloom took a rainbow color.

The end was near.

Another hit, my neck crunched. I fell backwards, feeling something cold under my arm. The gun of the guy I killed.

Happiness in deep shit.

Safety was on, but it didn't matter, it slipped into my palms as if it was alive, and without thinking I toggled it off.

I shot at the heel whistling against my face, then it hit me. The pistol gone, along with my nose, the skull still in one piece.

He stood there on one leg, blood gushing from his thigh. The bullet went through the foot, calf and thigh. Shot for all money.

Finish him or run away?

This time I made the right decision.

Without a second thought, I headed for the darkness of the fields and forests, away from the lights and people. Just as people of my kind did in the past, as we did today, when instincts prevailed over reason. I crossed the concrete bed of the creek, the road, and fell between two bushes so that people passing by wouldn't see me. I must have looked awful, and that would scare them.

It took a lot out of me to get up again. I succeeded on the third try. The rainbow outlines of the world gained in sharpness and strength and began to prevail over reality, I could not orient myself properly.

I stumbled across the road in a dark gap. For a while, a fence helped me along the way, maybe there were more of them, finally I felt an unpaved surface under my feet. I scrambled up the slope until I ran out of strength and blades of grass towered all around and high above me. I was having trouble breathing, I would rather lie down and do nothing. But I couldn't do that - if I wanted to survive.

During the struggle with my own weakness, helplessness and pain, I began to think again. Instinct didn't betray me this time, they would definitely get me in town. They were probably already waiting for me in my hotel room, and other guys in town were looking for someone very beaten up.

Did I kill him? Fanciful thinking, the fucking vampire was too good and too old to die from a scratch of a knife and one bullet, albeit well shot. I would have to blow his brain out of his skull to take him down.

Why the hell are vampires after us? I said us. I was gone for a third of a century, and suddenly it was us. Why?

I could still hear the cars too clearly, I was close. I had to get moving. They can smell blood all too well. There was moisture in the air. Maybe it will rain. That would help me survive. A little longer.