Дмитрий Мансуров - Invasion

The second man stared at the mill. The blades were rotating slowly. They made a quarter turn after that and stood under a straight angle in relation to the ground.

Another quarter turn, and the cross appeared. The curse of vampires and a protective amulet for people.

“To hell with that!” the second man barked. “We’ll stop the blades and that’s it!”

The window at the top opened, and they heard the miller’s voice, “Why the hell are you so obsessed? Go away!”

The window slammed back shut with a demonstrative thud.

The indignant vampires gave a long speech and raged until they remembered that their main goal was not inventing the worst insults for the miller but using his blood for gastronomic purposes. Spitting loudly, the vampire went to the nearest birch and struck it hard. The birch couldn’t resist the powerful blows and collapsed soon. The vampire exhaled, tired, and blew on his hands. His fists ached desperately, and if not for his dream to turn the miller and his mill into a pile of dust, he would have dropped everything and gone in search of a village. The second man picked up the birch with his tremendous strength and propped it up against the mill, not allowing the blades to rotate.

When they froze, the miller froze as well. The flour stopped spilling out of the groove, leaving the sac half-full. A wild laughter came after that, accompanied by the sound of blows on the door, a crashing of the planks, and the footsteps of the bloodsuckers that began to quickly approach the miller’s room. Soon, they burst into the it. The miller grabbed his stool.

“Got you, old man!” the second vampire cried out, looking mockingly at the miller’s attempts to defend himself. He quickly approached, pulled the stool out of the miller’s hands, and grabbed him by his clothes. But the vampires’ goal was not about to come to fruition. There was an incomprehensible monotonous sound behind, the surprised cry of the second vampire, and the glazed glance of the miller who was staring not at his attackers but at something else. The bewildered vampire turned and dropped the miller to the floor in fright. The creature standing in the doorway could have been called an ordinary dog if it wasn’t covered in blood from head to tail and didn’t have bloodied teeth along with eerily glowing green eyes. The vampire gulped. He had never seen anything like this before. The miller crawled to the wall while the creature growled with triple force.

“Go away!” the second vampire clapped his hands, intending to scare the dog, but in response, it rushed to him and bit into his leg. The vampire roared in pain. The dog jumped to the miller, stopped in front of him, and turned to the vampires, making it clear that it would protect him.

A quiet screeching sound came from the street. The first vampire tried to kick the dog but received such a painful bite in response that he lost his ability to think straight. Furious, he jumped on the dog. It leapt, and he found himself face to face with the miller again. The vampire reached out to strangle him. At this point, he didn’t even want to eat the man. He just wanted to avenge humiliation, but the dog jumped on his back and clung to his neck with its sharp teeth. The vampire howled, but then his partner approached and kicked the dog aside. The dog growled so loudly that the vampires lost their hearing for a while. The miller had little idea as to what was going on. His hands were searching for any object to protect himself from the enemies.

The screech sounded again. The birch that was leaning against the mill couldn’t resist the blades for long, so it slowly tilted to the side. The millstones twitched slightly. The vampire grabbed the miller and shook him violently. The latter spread his arms, and his open palm passed under the groove just as some flour fell from it. The miller’s hand clenched around it automatically, and he threw a handful at the vampire’s face. The vampire shrieked piercingly in unbearable pain. The flour glowed with a ghostly blue light and burned right through his body. The vampire dropped the miller, jumped up, and spun around, still shrieking loudly.

The dog attacked the second vampire, who grabbed it by the throat and tried to keep it at a safe distance. The bloodied fangs clanked, grabbing the air right before his nose, and only now he understood what all victims of vampires felt before death.

The screeching turned into a continuous noise, the blades swirled, the birch fell to the ground, and the miller followed its example, feeling absolutely exhausted. The first vampire was filling the forest with his pained cries. The second was fighting the dog, and then the blade stopped at the sign of the cross, sending the mill ablaze.

The explosion shook the mill and pushed it toward the logs.

The silence brought the miller back to his senses. The last thing he remembered before falling briefly unconscious was a blinding glow that engulfed the mill and the vampires who exploded at same time.

He opened his eyes. The vampires were gone without a trace, just like the mill. He himself was lying on the grass, weighed down by a part of the log, and the dog was wagging its tail next to him. It was covered in blood, with wild green eyes, and it was whimpering anxiously, looking at the miller. The man stared more closely, and then the realization hit him. The dog seemed vaguely familiar, and if not for the blood on its fur… and the weird eyes… it looked like…

“Hunter?” the miller asked quietly. The dog almost stood at his full height from happiness. Wildly wagging his tail, he licked the miller’s cheek with a bloody tongue and yelped in excitement. Then he squinted at the miller, saw he was smiling faintly, and began to yelp happily again.

And then the dog turned, wagged his tail for the last time, and ran away. The miller carefully pushed the log aside and stood up, checking whether his bones were still intact. It looked they were, but he still hurt a lot. “I’m too old for this,” he grumbled.

Early morning. Yaga’s house.

The plate with an apple was glowing, the apple rolling on its rim. The image of a cow chewing grass appeared. The cow raised its head and bellowed lowly. Yaga jumped up from the stove in fright and stared at the plate.

She spat, feeling vexed, yawned, and said, “Stop!”

After a quick breakfast, Yaga rushed to the village to check whether everything was going according to her plan. She flew to the oak tree with the observation tower, took out her telescope, and peeked into the open window of Alena’s house. The goat was asleep.

“Damn.”

What about the dog?

“Hey, dog!” Yaga called, staring at the darkness of the kennel and vainly trying to see something. “Dog! What a dog you are! You didn’t follow my plan at all. Barbarians! You sent my plan down the drain! Is the leash the only thing left from that creature? Everything had to be different!”

Wait… Come to think of it, this was exactly what was meant to happen. Given the fact that the leash was not in the kennel, but rather lying on the street, the dog had managed to locate the playful beast… But was it someone else?

“Which idiot decided to play in front of this house last night?” Yaga asked herself nervously. One hundred and forty countries, thousands of towns and villages, tens of thousands of homes, millions of animals and birds on this Earth, and some fool decided to play with this particular dog! Did he or she lack enough free space or something?

Who had the dog decided to chase instead of the goat? And where was he now?

She had to come up with the likeliest version quickly. For example, the dog could go for a walk in the neighborhood to show off his updated eyes. No, absolutely not. The hypnosis wouldn’t allow him to escape from the yard before doing his job. What else could be there?