"You need to understand something," Maria led me confidently through the rooms, as if she had been inside the Smirnovs' house a hundred times before. "Everything I did, I did for you."
She moved with such certainty, passing straight through rooms via doors I had never noticed before. She knew every corner of the mansion, every secret kept beneath the high ceilings, and that knowledge frightened me. She carried herself nothing like the Maria I had known. She was no longer soft, cheerful, and a little naïve. The mother who had raised me was gone, replaced by another woman. A stranger.
"When your father and I met, things were different. The Xerton Coven was thriving, cleverly playing with the natural balance. It wasn't the strongest, but it was respected, skillfully keeping its activities hidden from the eyes of ordinary mortals, helping the local residents—in its own way, it even prospered. But there was one problem it could never solve. Undoing the work of its ancestors—the new weapon they created during the war—proved impossible."
Maria pulled the porcelain ballerina figurine on the shelf, and part of the wall slid aside, revealing a narrow corridor where two people could hardly walk side by side without discomfort. My mother motioned for me to go first, and I stepped cautiously into the darkness.
"Werewolves and vampires?" I asked, spreading my arms to either side and feeling along the walls. It was calmer to walk forward while my fingers traced the monotonous surface, which stretched all the way to a modest light source at the end.
"Exactly. I don't want to bore you with the retelling of the usual tale about those times, but—"
"Dad's already told me."
Maria faltered.
"And you call him 'Dad' more often now."
"He's earned it," I said sharply, feeling a surge of resentment toward Maria, though I couldn't quite pinpoint what made me angrier. In my head there were a thousand and one reasons, from the fact that she rarely called me to the secrets she and Kostya had wrapped around my life.
Maria exhaled noisily, not knowing what to say. She always did that when we were about to argue, and after exhaling, she would quickly change the subject. I used to think she did it out of simplicity, maybe a touch of naïveté that kept her from quarreling even with bank clerks or tax officers. Now, I didn't know what to think. Even now, when Maria continued speaking, she picked up right where she had left off earlier.
"Since you've already heard the traditional story, then listen to what happened after. The creatures that cast their shadow over all witchkind were hunted by the covens for centuries, swinging from one extreme to another. It began with the most primitive methods, like tracking and exterminating, but before the first century was out, it became clear: the stronger the weapon you used, the faster werewolves and vampires adapted to it, gradually nullifying the witches' efforts. And when the werewolves had gathered enough grudges and strength, they returned war for war, leveling many covens to the ground."
The corridor led us directly to a staircase. The passage clearly hadn't been built long ago, judging by the flawless coat of paint and the gleaming steps, which made you tread carefully—slipping here would be the last thing you'd want.
The room before us was bathed in light and golden accents. The walls, covered with gold-beige silk with delicate floral patterns, seemed far too refined for a house where people actually lived.
"While the witches and werewolves tore at each other's throats, the vampires were left to their own devices. The purebloods began increasing the numbers of the weak-blooded, whose thirst soon made them not only bloodthirsty but mad enough to successfully draw attention away from the leaders. By sending group after group to the slaughter, they aimed to take out both the wolves and the witches at once, leaving the world entirely in their hands. Luckily, the witches and werewolves quickly realized where things were headed and made a conditional truce in the face of a common enemy."
Maria walked straight through the room, and when we stepped through another door, we ended up in the familiar parking area under the house, where the Smirnovs' cars stood. Opposite the exit, Dad's car was already running, and Maria headed toward it. I kept following her, still listening.
"When I first saw your father at the institute, I knew at first sight that I was in love. I was drawn to Kostya so impossibly, so desperately, that when I realized who he was, it broke my heart. Among witches, such a bond was considered forbidden at the time. God, how I cried when I understood everything," Maria smiled, and on her lips played that familiar smile, the one that allowed me to recognize my mother in this woman again. "But Kostya didn't care what was accepted or not. He loved me and agreed to any conditions, as long as we could keep seeing each other. We met in secret, more and more often telling our families that we were staying at the institute for an extra hour, sometimes two, just to be together."
When we reached the car, I instinctively went to sit in the front seat, but Maria opened the back door and gestured for me to get in. The last thing I wanted right now was to crawl into the back and take the most uncomfortable seat—in the middle. I hated talking to someone in a car without seeing their face. I could have asked Maria to sit next to me, but I was afraid that if I brought it up, she'd lose her flow and stop talking. My protest stopped at an eye roll, and I obediently climbed inside.
The radio was playing softly, and to my surprise, Kostya was behind the wheel, wearing a light windbreaker that was clearly the wrong size for him. Dad turned toward me and pointed at the jacket.
"This is what happens when you shift carelessly and tear all your clothes. At least this was in the trunk. I have no idea how it even got there."
I examined the windbreaker: light blue, with thin pink and orange stripes running from the shoulders all the way down the sleeves.
"I think it's mine. I lost it about five years ago and could never remember where I'd left it back home in Rostov, and apparently, it's been here all along."
"That explains why it's so damn tight on me."
Maria sank into her seat and shut the door loudly, making Kostya shoot her an annoyed glance but hold back from commenting.
"I thought your midlife crisis had already passed," she said, her eyes flicking over his outfit in a pointed jab.
"Oh, and you're dressed so age-appropriately in that low-cut sweater."
The moment my parents were in a calm setting, they fell back into their old habit—bickering.
"Maria, don't get sidetracked. You were telling her about how you and Kostya met in secret."
Both of them fell silent at once. Kostya turned away from Maria and reached for the radio to switch off the music.
"You keep telling the story, I'll drive us home."
Maria gave a silent nod and tucked her hair behind her ear. She paused while Dad pulled out of the parking lot. Once we left the Smirnovs' property, Mom spoke again.
"We couldn't keep our relationship a secret for long. I don't know who found out first or how, but the news reached the High Witch and the alpha of the Xerton wolf pack. By the established rules, we should have been declared enemies and exiled, but your grandmother and grandfather, apparently, couldn't bring themselves to do it. They didn't say anything to us. They did something worse — they decided everything for us."