"Necromancer. Such work" Sergey Demyanov. Necromancer. Such work Demyanov necromancer such work

MY THANKS

Andrey Ulanov - for answers to all questions regarding weapons,

Olga Gromyko for keeping me confident, and the entire L’Borro team for giving me the physical opportunity to finish this book.

This story could not be told without your help.

Sometimes it seems to me that some people do not understand human language at all. It's no use telling them that you don't want to and won't do something. They will simply lounge opposite you in your own chair, cross their legs, maybe light a cigarette and ask: “Well, how much do you want for this?”

Money is a great thing, but it spoils many people. There is nothing worse than deciding that you can buy absolutely everything. This is a seductive but very dangerous myth: one day you may find out that what you really need is not for sale at all. Even for a lot of money. Sometimes the owners of this big money are not satisfied with this state of affairs.

I know someone who believes that having principles is a luxury these days. But I am sure that any person should have the right to say “no” if he is disgusted with doing something. And even without “sorry.”

I don't eat bean curd.

I don't listen to Dima Bilan.

I don't raise the dead.

So what, I have to apologize for this? Don't think.

Alas, for some reason my “no” does not seem convincing to some. That is why I take clients only by recommendation, but even this does not always help. Not all people are able to think carefully before giving someone my phone number.

It was New Year's Eve. All supermarkets were decorated with snowflakes, tinsel and multi-colored light bulbs, and at every significant intersection, Uzbeks in puffer jackets were selling firecrackers and fireworks. Christmas trees were brought to the city, and now the sidewalks near metro stations were strewn with pine needles. Christmas tree decorations, cardboard boxes with candies and cans of artificial frost for forty rubles each appeared in stores. They found it very convenient to draw pentagrams on glass.

The man sitting opposite me was very, very scared. Apparently, this is what made him be so impudent. Even more arrogant than me.

Perhaps it was also because he was the embodiment of evil.

Mind you, I didn't think that because he had his black suede sneakers on my favorite desk that cost me almost a grand.

“I hope, Kirill Alekseevich, we will come to an agreement,” he purred, smiling broadly.

I repeat again, for the stupid: I don’t raise the dead,” I responded. “And besides, I don’t work for the undead.”

Don't insult your future employer. - My interlocutor shook his head. - You know, we don’t like it when they call us that...

“I don’t like white chocolate,” I said. - And you know what?

What? - He frowned, puzzled.

“I don’t buy it,” I answered. - And everyone is happy. The door is over there.

Everyone, at least once in their life, has come across a person who does not understand hints. It could be anyone - a neighbor in the stairwell who regularly tries to borrow fifty dollars from you when he's drunk, or a colleague who is used to pushing all the dirty work onto you. As a rule, these are very self-confident types, brought up in the firm belief that the world and the people inhabiting it exist only for their pleasure. Nothing changes in their character if they become vampires. It just adds to the stupidity. You see, they think that they are in no danger since they are dead.

They are wrong.

You don't believe that vampires exist? I'm very happy for you. This means that you live the calm and safe life of a person who is not interested in anything. My guest today was fanged, poorly brought up and hopelessly dead. It seemed to me that this was quite enough to refuse to work for him. But he himself thought differently.

Kirill, I would like to think that you are a reasonable person, and we can come to an agreement,” he said softly, without moving from his place.

One has nothing to do with the other. - I shrugged my shoulders. - The fact that I am a reasonable person does not oblige me to agree to everything that is offered to me.

You understand that they will insist... - He chuckled and shook his head, apparently unable to believe that there are still people in the world who have principles. I mean such special whims that cannot be exchanged for any large amount of money.

Here's the thing... - I said. - I can insist on being made Queen of England. But do you understand how this will end?

Oh yeah! - my interlocutor agreed. “But it seems you don’t understand how this could end.”

I'm not a brawler by nature. I relate well to most people. I love dogs, cats and aquarium fish. I almost always speak quietly and politely, I don’t wave my arms, I don’t splash saliva - in general, I can be called a fairly reserved person. I usually talk to my clients with great respect: after all, these are the same people who pay for my food, clothes and apartment. There are only two things in the world that I truly hate.

The first is vampires.

The second is when they threaten me.

My interlocutor was the personification of both of them. Can you blame me for the fact that I still snapped?

A stiff stand-up collar is unimportant protection for those whose neck is the most vulnerable spot.

A-awh! Grrr! - my interlocutor lamented.

Well, at least he took his feet off the table - and that was bread. He was very scared now. Actually, he screamed not so much because he was in pain, but because he was afraid. I could have damaged something important to him. True, vampires have few organs that are truly necessary for survival.

Necromancer. This kind of work

MY THANKS

Andrey Ulanov - for answers to all questions regarding weapons,

Olga Gromyko for keeping me confident, and the entire L’Borro team for giving me the physical opportunity to finish this book.

This story could not be told without your help.

Sometimes it seems to me that some people do not understand human language at all. It's no use telling them that you don't want to and won't do something. They will simply lounge opposite you in your own chair, cross their legs, maybe light a cigarette and ask: “Well, how much do you want for this?”

Money is a great thing, but it spoils many people. There is nothing worse than deciding that you can buy absolutely everything. This is a seductive but very dangerous myth: one day you may find out that what you really need is not for sale at all. Even for a lot of money. Sometimes the owners of this big money are not satisfied with this state of affairs.

I know someone who believes that having principles is a luxury these days. But I am sure that any person should have the right to say “no” if he is disgusted with doing something. And even without “sorry.”

I don't eat bean curd.

I don't listen to Dima Bilan.

I don't raise the dead.

So what, I have to apologize for this? Don't think.

Alas, for some reason my “no” does not seem convincing to some. That is why I take clients only by recommendation, but even this does not always help. Not all people are able to think carefully before giving someone my phone number.

It was New Year's Eve. All supermarkets were decorated with snowflakes, tinsel and multi-colored light bulbs, and at every significant intersection, Uzbeks in puffer jackets were selling firecrackers and fireworks. Christmas trees were brought to the city, and now the sidewalks near metro stations were strewn with pine needles. Christmas tree decorations, cardboard boxes with candies and cans of artificial frost for forty rubles each appeared in stores. They found it very convenient to draw pentagrams on glass.

The man sitting opposite me was very, very scared. Apparently, this is what made him be so impudent. Even more arrogant than me.

Perhaps it was also because he was the embodiment of evil.

Mind you, I didn't think that because he had his black suede sneakers on my favorite desk that cost me almost a grand.

“I hope, Kirill Alekseevich, we will come to an agreement,” he purred, smiling broadly.

I repeat again, for the stupid: I don’t raise the dead,” I responded. “And besides, I don’t work for the undead.”

Don't insult your future employer. - My interlocutor shook his head. - You know, we don’t like it when they call us that...

“I don’t like white chocolate,” I said. - And you know what?

What? - He frowned, puzzled.

“I don’t buy it,” I answered. - And everyone is happy. The door is over there.

Everyone, at least once in their life, has come across a person who does not understand hints. It could be anyone - a neighbor in the stairwell who regularly tries to borrow fifty dollars from you when he's drunk, or a colleague who is used to pushing all the dirty work onto you. As a rule, these are very self-confident types, brought up in the firm belief that the world and the people inhabiting it exist only for their pleasure. Nothing changes in their character if they become vampires. It just adds to the stupidity. You see, they think that they are in no danger since they are dead.

They are wrong.

You don't believe that vampires exist? I'm very happy for you. This means that you live the calm and safe life of a person who is not interested in anything. My guest today was fanged, poorly brought up and hopelessly dead. It seemed to me that this was quite enough to refuse to work for him. But he himself thought differently.

Kirill, I would like to think that you are a reasonable person, and we can come to an agreement,” he said softly, without moving from his place.

One has nothing to do with the other. - I shrugged my shoulders. - The fact that I am a reasonable person does not oblige me to agree to everything that is offered to me.

You understand that they will insist... - He chuckled and shook his head, apparently unable to believe that there are still people in the world who have principles. I mean such special whims that cannot be exchanged for any large amount of money.

Here’s the thing... - I said. - I can insist that I be made Queen of England. But do you understand how this will end?

Oh yeah! - my interlocutor agreed. “But it seems you don’t understand how this could end.”

I'm not a brawler by nature. I relate well to most people. I love dogs, cats and aquarium fish. I almost always speak quietly and politely, I don’t wave my arms, I don’t splash saliva - in general, I can be called a fairly reserved person. I usually talk to my clients with great respect: after all, these are the same people who pay for my food, clothes and apartment. There are only two things in the world that I truly hate.

The first is vampires.

The second is when they threaten me.

My interlocutor was the personification of both of them. Can you blame me for the fact that I still snapped?

A stiff stand-up collar is unimportant protection for those whose neck is the most vulnerable spot.

A-awh! Grrr! - my interlocutor lamented.

Well, at least he took his feet off the table - and that was bread. He was very scared now. Actually, he screamed not so much because he was in pain, but because he was afraid. I could have damaged something important to him. True, vampires have few organs that are truly necessary for survival.

I know everything.

For an older undead, I would choose an axe, or better yet, a shotgun loaded with buckshot. Don't tell anyone, but hidden under the lid of my desktop is an IZH-81 Jaguar with a walnut handle. I would prefer a lightweight Benelli Nova or a 500 Mossberg Cruiser, but it’s quite difficult to get one in Moscow for reasonable money. In addition, it was this old pump-action shotgun, bought secondhand through an advertisement on some forum for two hundred and fifty dollars, that had already saved my health, if not my life, a couple of times.

Necromancer. This kind of work

MY THANKS

Andrey Ulanov - for answers to all questions regarding weapons,

Olga Gromyko for keeping me confident, and the entire L’Borro team for giving me the physical opportunity to finish this book.

This story could not be told without your help.

Sometimes it seems to me that some people do not understand human language at all. It's no use telling them that you don't want to and won't do something. They will simply lounge opposite you in your own chair, cross their legs, maybe light a cigarette and ask: “Well, how much do you want for this?”

Money is a great thing, but it spoils many people. There is nothing worse than deciding that you can buy absolutely everything. This is a seductive but very dangerous myth: one day you may find out that what you really need is not for sale at all. Even for a lot of money. Sometimes the owners of this big money are not satisfied with this state of affairs.

I know someone who believes that having principles is a luxury these days. But I am sure that any person should have the right to say “no” if he is disgusted with doing something. And even without “sorry.”

I don't eat bean curd.

I don't listen to Dima Bilan.

I don't raise the dead.

So what, I have to apologize for this? Don't think.

Alas, for some reason my “no” does not seem convincing to some. That is why I take clients only by recommendation, but even this does not always help. Not all people are able to think carefully before giving someone my phone number.

It was New Year's Eve. All supermarkets were decorated with snowflakes, tinsel and multi-colored light bulbs, and at every significant intersection, Uzbeks in puffer jackets were selling firecrackers and fireworks. Christmas trees were brought to the city, and now the sidewalks near metro stations were strewn with pine needles. Christmas tree decorations, cardboard boxes with candies and cans of artificial frost for forty rubles each appeared in stores. They found it very convenient to draw pentagrams on glass.

The man sitting opposite me was very, very scared. Apparently, this is what made him be so impudent. Even more arrogant than me.

Perhaps it was also because he was the embodiment of evil.

Mind you, I didn't think that because he had his black suede sneakers on my favorite desk that cost me almost a grand.

“I hope, Kirill Alekseevich, we will come to an agreement,” he purred, smiling broadly.

I repeat again, for the stupid: I don’t raise the dead,” I responded. “And besides, I don’t work for the undead.”

Don't insult your future employer. - My interlocutor shook his head. - You know, we don’t like it when they call us that...

“I don’t like white chocolate,” I said. - And you know what?

What? - He frowned, puzzled.

“I don’t buy it,” I answered. - And everyone is happy. The door is over there.

Everyone, at least once in their life, has come across a person who does not understand hints. It could be anyone - a neighbor in the stairwell who regularly tries to borrow fifty dollars from you when he's drunk, or a colleague who is used to pushing all the dirty work onto you. As a rule, these are very self-confident types, brought up in the firm belief that the world and the people inhabiting it exist only for their pleasure. Nothing changes in their character if they become vampires. It just adds to the stupidity. You see, they think that they are in no danger since they are dead.

They are wrong.

You don't believe that vampires exist? I'm very happy for you. This means that you live the calm and safe life of a person who is not interested in anything. My guest today was fanged, poorly brought up and hopelessly dead. It seemed to me that this was quite enough to refuse to work for him. But he himself thought differently.

Kirill, I would like to think that you are a reasonable person, and we can come to an agreement,” he said softly, without moving from his place.

One has nothing to do with the other. - I shrugged my shoulders. - The fact that I am a reasonable person does not oblige me to agree to everything that is offered to me.

You understand that they will insist... - He chuckled and shook his head, apparently unable to believe that there are still people in the world who have principles. I mean such special whims that cannot be exchanged for any large amount of money.

Here's the thing... - I said. - I can insist on being made Queen of England. But do you understand how this will end?

Oh yeah! - my interlocutor agreed. “But it seems you don’t understand how this could end.”

I'm not a brawler by nature. I relate well to most people. I love dogs, cats and aquarium fish. I almost always speak quietly and politely, I don’t wave my arms, I don’t splash saliva - in general, I can be called a fairly reserved person. I usually talk to my clients with great respect: after all, these are the same people who pay for my food, clothes and apartment. There are only two things in the world that I truly hate.

The first is vampires.

The second is when they threaten me.

My interlocutor was the personification of both of them. Can you blame me for the fact that I still snapped?

A stiff stand-up collar is unimportant protection for those whose neck is the most vulnerable spot.

A-awh! Grrr! - my interlocutor lamented.

Well, at least he took his feet off the table - and that was bread. He was very scared now. Actually, he screamed not so much because he was in pain, but because he was afraid. I could have damaged something important to him. True, vampires have few organs that are truly necessary for survival.

I know everything.

For an older undead, I would choose an axe, or better yet, a shotgun loaded with buckshot. Don't tell anyone, but hidden under the lid of my desktop is an IZH-81 Jaguar with a walnut handle. I would prefer a lightweight Benelli Nova or a 500 Mossberg Cruiser, but it’s quite difficult to get one in Moscow for reasonable money. In addition, it was this old pump-action shotgun, bought secondhand through an advertisement on some forum for two hundred and fifty dollars, that had already saved my health, if not my life, a couple of times.

There was no need to be especially afraid of my current guest: he was converted less than a year ago and, moreover, did not expect such an outburst from me. I understood him. I'm human, and normal people don't usually try to kill someone out of the blue. We need a very good reason to even think about it.

Necromancer. This kind of work

MY THANKS

Andrey Ulanov - for answers to all questions regarding weapons,

Olga Gromyko for keeping me confident, and the entire L’Borro team for giving me the physical opportunity to finish this book.

This story could not be told without your help.

Sometimes it seems to me that some people do not understand human language at all. It's no use telling them that you don't want to and won't do something. They will simply lounge opposite you in your own chair, cross their legs, maybe light a cigarette and ask: “Well, how much do you want for this?”

Money is a great thing, but it spoils many people. There is nothing worse than deciding that you can buy absolutely everything. This is a seductive but very dangerous myth: one day you may find out that what you really need is not for sale at all. Even for a lot of money. Sometimes the owners of this big money are not satisfied with this state of affairs.

I know someone who believes that having principles is a luxury these days. But I am sure that any person should have the right to say “no” if he is disgusted with doing something. And even without “sorry.”

I don't eat bean curd.

I don't listen to Dima Bilan.

I don't raise the dead.

So what, I have to apologize for this? Don't think.

Alas, for some reason my “no” does not seem convincing to some. That is why I take clients only by recommendation, but even this does not always help. Not all people are able to think carefully before giving someone my phone number.

It was New Year's Eve. All supermarkets were decorated with snowflakes, tinsel and multi-colored light bulbs, and at every significant intersection, Uzbeks in puffer jackets were selling firecrackers and fireworks. Christmas trees were brought to the city, and now the sidewalks near metro stations were strewn with pine needles. Christmas tree decorations, cardboard boxes with candies and cans of artificial frost for forty rubles each appeared in stores. They found it very convenient to draw pentagrams on glass.

The man sitting opposite me was very, very scared. Apparently, this is what made him be so impudent. Even more arrogant than me.

Perhaps it was also because he was the embodiment of evil.

Mind you, I didn't think that because he had his black suede sneakers on my favorite desk that cost me almost a grand.

“I hope, Kirill Alekseevich, we will come to an agreement,” he purred, smiling broadly.

I repeat again, for the stupid: I don’t raise the dead,” I responded. “And besides, I don’t work for the undead.”

Don't insult your future employer. - My interlocutor shook his head. - You know, we don’t like it when they call us that...

“I don’t like white chocolate,” I said. - And you know what?

What? - He frowned, puzzled.

“I don’t buy it,” I answered. - And everyone is happy. The door is over there.

Everyone, at least once in their life, has come across a person who does not understand hints. It could be anyone - a neighbor in the stairwell who regularly tries to borrow fifty dollars from you when he's drunk, or a colleague who is used to pushing all the dirty work onto you. As a rule, these are very self-confident types, brought up in the firm belief that the world and the people inhabiting it exist only for their pleasure. Nothing changes in their character if they become vampires. It just adds to the stupidity. You see, they think that they are in no danger since they are dead.

They are wrong.

You don't believe that vampires exist? I'm very happy for you. This means that you live the calm and safe life of a person who is not interested in anything. My guest today was fanged, poorly brought up and hopelessly dead. It seemed to me that this was quite enough to refuse to work for him. But he himself thought differently.

Kirill, I would like to think that you are a reasonable person, and we can come to an agreement,” he said softly, without moving from his place.

One has nothing to do with the other. - I shrugged my shoulders. - The fact that I am a reasonable person does not oblige me to agree to everything that is offered to me.

You understand that they will insist... - He chuckled and shook his head, apparently unable to believe that there are still people in the world who have principles. I mean such special whims that cannot be exchanged for any large amount of money.

Here’s the thing... - I said. - I can insist that I be made Queen of England. But do you understand how this will end?

Oh yeah! - my interlocutor agreed. “But it seems you don’t understand how this could end.”

I'm not a brawler by nature. I relate well to most people. I love dogs, cats and aquarium fish. I almost always speak quietly and politely, I don’t wave my arms, I don’t splash saliva - in general, I can be called a fairly reserved person. I usually talk to my clients with great respect: after all, these are the same people who pay for my food, clothes and apartment. There are only two things in the world that I truly hate.

The first is vampires.

The second is when they threaten me.

My interlocutor was the personification of both of them. Can you blame me for the fact that I still snapped?

A stiff stand-up collar is unimportant protection for those whose neck is the most vulnerable spot.

A-awh! Grrr! - my interlocutor lamented.

Well, at least he took his feet off the table - and that was bread. He was very scared now. Actually, he screamed not so much because he was in pain, but because he was afraid. I could have damaged something important to him. True, vampires have few organs that are truly necessary for survival.

I know everything.

For an older undead, I would choose an axe, or better yet, a shotgun loaded with buckshot. Don't tell anyone, but hidden under the lid of my desktop is an IZH-81 Jaguar with a walnut handle. I would prefer a lightweight Benelli Nova or a 500 Mossberg Cruiser, but it’s quite difficult to get one in Moscow for reasonable money. In addition, it was this old pump-action shotgun, bought secondhand through an advertisement on some forum for two hundred and fifty dollars, that had already saved my health, if not my life, a couple of times.

There was no need to be especially afraid of my current guest: he was converted less than a year ago and, moreover, did not expect such an outburst from me. I understood him. I'm human, and normal people don't usually try to kill someone out of the blue. We need a very good reason to even think about it.

In addition, it is unlikely that he often encountered people who were always ready for a vampire attack.

Well, or to attack a vampire.

On my right hand I usually wear a wide leather bracelet with silver studs - for soul-saving conversations; a sheath is fastened to my left forearm - in it I hold a twelve-centimeter double-edged knife with a symmetrical sharpening for those who remain deaf to the voice of reason. And I also have a rather thick silver braided string. An excellent thing, invented just for such cases.

If necessary, I could please my guest with a few more fun surprises. It’s not that I collect them, I just have a rather stressful job.

Now we probably understand each other,” I said. - Martynov, don’t come to me anymore.

He immediately began to smile and began to demonstrate in every possible way his complete agreement with me. He thought I was going to kill him, and he was wrong. If I was going to, I would kill. However, the course of his thoughts suited me quite well.

Avoiding sudden movements, I removed the string from his neck and sat back in the chair.

During his lifetime, Pavel Martynov was a small businessman, one of those who always saves by skimping on overtime for employees, and on occasion he would certainly cheat on a partner, employee or client if this did not threaten him in any way. It was very stupid of him to try to convince me that before the end of eternity he had changed for the better. This could have worked if I hadn’t known as well as he did exactly in what direction people change when they become undead. Fortunately, Martynov was not privy to the details of my personal life.

If I see you near my house again, I’ll kill you,” I warned, regaining my breathing. I don't like letting myself get screwed.

Let's talk like civilized beings... - Martynov whined. - It was just a joke.

“Jokes are inappropriate when discussing work,” I snapped. - Consider that I have no sense of humor. Get out of here and don’t even go past my door if you don’t want to become completely dead. That's all I have to tell you.

He climbed out onto the staircase looking as if he was going to talk to a commission from the SES, without having either the relevant papers or a large sum of cash in his pocket. In fact, I tend to feel sorry for people who are pathologically unlucky. I sympathize with stray cats, Charlie Chaplin's heroes and sometimes even those unlucky guys who have to hand out advertising leaflets near the subway in winter. But I didn’t feel sorry for Martynov. Perhaps he was not pretending and really expected punishment for failing to convince me to take this order.

Rated the book

Yes, I live in a very black and white world.
And I like it.
S. Demyanov, “Necromancer...”

There are zombies - they need to be put back into the grave. There are escheat creatures - they need to be destroyed. There are demons - you can contact them only if you have a clear idea of ​​what it will cost you and agree to a certain payment. There are vampires - it’s generally better not to mess with them for a number of reasons. And there are necromancers and mediums who live in the same world as you and me, only their filter of perception does not filter out all these details of existence that are supernatural for an ordinary person, and who must do their job: calm zombies, kill monsters, deal with demons and protect ordinary people from cruel and unsightly reality. Such work.

Kirill is a necromancer. At the same time, there is nothing in it from Batman, Captain America, or even Uncle Styopa (who is a policeman. By the way, I wonder if he will become a policeman in later reissues? Okay, that’s not what we’re talking about). They bite him, scratch him, beat him, scare him, scare him again, they decompose on him, they regularly try to twist his head off and even sometimes recruit him. He stoically experiences all these delights of life, pours liters of hydrogen peroxide on himself, throws out another sweater, which now in his life you will never wash out of stains or smell, eats the day with a cheeseburger from McDonald's and hopes that tomorrow will be, if not better, then at least no worse than yesterday. Such work.

Kirill also has principles. For example, don't raise the dead. In general, never, because pulling a person out of his real life and stuffing him into a dead body is not even unethical or wrong, it is evil. And the raised corpse must be put back, because it is necessary. Cyrus is also beaten and bitten for his principles. That's his job.

Our capital is not the most peaceful city in the world, neither for ordinary people, nor for those who see a little more than everyone else. Big city, big problems. And right now, one downright gigantic problem has appeared in it, and its name is... I won’t say what. But there are creatures worse than vampires.

Such a good fantasy. Without “a fireball comes out from behind the forest, from behind the mountains,” but with enough action in the right places. We will justify it with a good one, tailored to this particular world, and with correct reasoning. Without heroic swinging a two-handed sword or weaving complex spells, but with very lively and understandable people who do not the most pleasant work and not always for money. Because that's the kind of work it is.

A quality debut, a pleasure to read. Okay, stop. Don’t get me wrong - few people will enjoy reading the description of the appearance of zombies that are not the first freshness, for example, to the point of emotion, but this is as integral a part of the story as letters on paper, harmoniously fitting into the fabric of the text. And it’s always nice to see when a person knows what he’s doing and why.

The ending apparently implies a continuation. We'll wait and see, and at the same time we'll decide whether to read it or not.

Rated the book

Even in the Metro you can find Peter ©

But the most interesting thing!
Deliciously dark, soaked in death like a sponge cake with liqueur. Sometimes you are tempted to think about death, to figure out what’s going on, and this feeling that no one knows what is there anyway gives a dizzying freedom. You can come up with whatever you want, and it’s better if it’s pleasant, but why think about worms and dark nothingness.
Demyanov’s thanatological theory is quite harmonious. I could be very wrong, but in my opinion, the idea that after death they will show you your life and your conscience will torture you like in a frying pan - I read something like that in The Brothers Karamazov. Although it’s unlikely, that’s more likely how I interpreted it. At one time (after reading Dostoevsky) I was wildly depressed just thinking about it. But not now, it’s just so cheerful. Either because Dostoevsky still writes better, or because I gave away my salt - this year I saved a sparrow - no matter how far the card lay - definitely, I didn’t live in vain!

In short, a very interesting book about death. Why not? Any fate can escape us: we may never jump from a parachute, swim in the ocean, gaze at the stars from a mountain top, give birth to children, grow a ficus tree, learn to knit or cook, never, ever ride a bike on the morning dawn - but death will come for everyone. This scares some people, but it rather pacifies me (if we are talking about my death, of course). Although, of course, I would like it not too soon and not too painful.

However, what else is so charming is the main character. Necromancer Kirill is such a sweetheart! It seemed to me that this was a negative of Harry Dresden from the books of Jim Butcher, even with just as much trandit.
And the world is very good - harmonious, logical, interesting. I have never met a pack of undead before. The characters from Gemalang Tanah, besides the strange name of the place itself, are very similar to fairies, but they are still cool.
And women are evil! There was a good book about death and how difficult it is to die, no, it was necessary to stuff a love triangle into it. How long?

And there were small gaps in the plot, just like without them. For example, with Marina. So the woman was burning with a blue flame, lying there behind the grave mound and even stopped moaning, and then they told her child: “You’ll go home now.” Home, are you sure?
Or where did the packages from the scene with the greyhound vampire go after shopping at the supermarket? Because after the shopping, Cyrus fought with both hands! Where are the packages? Maybe I also want to fight after the store, but shopping gets in the way. At least someone would advise me.

However, to summarize, it’s quite a decent, efficient and dark urban fantasy.

Rated the book

That night I woke up from a quiet rustling sound, a thin scraping on the glass. Approaching the window, I saw the Count behind it. It was snowing and slowly falling on the head and shoulders, enveloping the silhouette in a soft glow. The Count was sad.

Tell me, why do you always invent monsters for yourself?

We have been having this conversation for a very long time - but now I have nothing to answer the Count. I close my eyes and press my forehead against the cold glass.

Once upon a time, the Count told me a story...

One day a man became lonely in the Universe. He wandered around the world and could not understand what was happening to him. One world was not enough for man, and he came up with hundreds of worlds. He created castles and populated them with ghosts, raised the dead from their graves, created vampires, Man surrounded himself with monsters. And then, looking around him and seeing his creations, he got scared. And the man decided to kill the monsters. But the monsters did not want to die. They went into the darkness, and since then they have been lying in wait for a person there, waiting in the wings, waiting for a meeting to tell us their terrible tales.

On the table in front of me lies only a read book. A book about a monster fighter, a Necromancer. Essentially a good book. She made me think about how we perceive good and evil. Try to remember at least one book in which a kind character would be interesting, strong, bright and at the same time absolutely kind. Descriptions of evil creatures and their types are colorful and varied. They have their own worlds, their own philosophy, and one can talk about their actions endlessly. There is no limit to them. But good always has only despair, fatigue, alcoholism. And these characters are not very good, even though they fight evil. Strange, isn't it!

Why do we have no idea of ​​true good?

It’s night, cold, too wintery March. I'm probably not kind either. I won't go back to bed. I will drink bitter coffee in the kitchen, flooded with warm light. I'll go to work tomorrow. I lead an ordinary life and I like it.

Why do we always invent monsters for ourselves?