Fact: no one writes original about necromancers among Russian authors. Against the background of languid beauties and hero-lovers with a vile character and a specific profession, the necromancer Kirill of Sergei Demyanov stands out very, very much. This is the first time I have come across an attempt to transfer the features of this profession to a psychological portrait of the hero’s personality, and frankly speaking, the attempt was quite successful.

The main complaint readers have about the book is the abundance of philosophical digressions. I think many people skim through it, and, in my opinion, they lose a lot - the constant internal dialogue of the hero emphasizes this point - Kirill does not want to be a necromancer at all. He yearns for the usual routine work of a middle manager with a standardized work schedule, weekends and barbecues with friends. He lacks the well-fed peace of everyday life instead of the constant fear for his life, or even worse... Kirill is indeed very lonely and he doesn’t have a “true necromancer’s self-instruction manual” at hand, every “quirk” of his was invented by himself - here and selfless nobility when he and his friends clear the city of zombies, and paranoid suspicion when someone from the undead or living offers him help or a lucrative deal. But all these self-restraints are his way to remain human, as opposed to Nick, his opponent.

Kirill is a very complex person. He understood what loneliness and helplessness were as a child. When a child sees creatures that do not exist for an ordinary person, he cannot ask his father for help or protection. When friendship with this creature more than once brings him to the brink of death, it is not surprising to stop trusting altogether. And when a loved one turns into a monster and even after death wants to take revenge on you for some invented grievances... Is it time to give up on love?

However, the author assigns a very important role to Love in the novel. She is the power that can make a being omnipotent, or turn it into dust. It can be used, it can be given free of charge... It can be treasured as the greatest treasure in the world, or it can be mediocrely squandered without noticing... But most importantly: life without love is a very sad sight...

The book has shortcomings: a ragged narrative (the first third is dismemberment and zombie hunting, the last third slides into a love story...), borrowing from other authors (Carlos Castaneda and the Allies, uh-huh!). But what can’t be taken away from the book is the original interpretation of the characters’ images, a fascinating plot, a successful attempt to look into the soul of a necromancer and, last but not least, the author’s ability to evoke empathy in the reader... Honestly, I like Kirill, with all his outrageous cool, exotic hobbies (like shooting evil spirits in abandoned warehouses and destroying zombies in the subway) and super-earnings were very sad...

If this is a debut, then I look forward to new works by the author with great hope!

I like it. That's why...

Rating: 10

Rating: 6

To be honest, I only bought it because of Olga Gromyko’s review. Everywhere it was indicated that this was a terrible noir, darkness, mysticism, etc. During the entire reading, I didn’t even flinch even once, although I don’t consider myself a daredevil. The plot is interesting, unusual, I would even say original, I personally think that much more could have been gleaned from this topic, but oh well, maybe we’ll see a continuation.

I categorically did not like the GG, because of it the gloomy atmosphere, and good descriptions and an interesting plot faded. He annoyed me so much that I stopped every three or four pages just to say, “Be a man, damn it!” A whiner, a wimp and a home-grown philosopher. There is a LOT of reasoning, so much that I was drowning in it like in a swamp, despite the fact that I caught several interesting thoughts. If only they had been expressed more briefly... I never liked the deaths of book characters, but here I sincerely wished for him to die in the end. Purely because of the disgusting GG, my assessment is as follows.

Rating: 6

I read 100 pages, and all the time I was tempted to call the GG not Cyrus, but Harry (Harry Dresden is Jim Butcher’s “Dresden Archive” cycle, for those who don’t know). Both the plot and the characters are completely ripped off from Butcher, but this is the first work in this genre, written by a Russian author, which ended up on my shelf, (not counting Lukyanenko’s Dozorov, which does not need comments), I will read to the end, if only for the sake of interest.

Rating: 4

A sort of cocktail of Anita Blake, Harry Dresden and the Watch. If you are familiar with the ingredients, then the borrowings will jump right into your eyes, but if, like me, you are not a fan, then it will go fine. The winter gloom of Moscow is well shown, especially noticeable for a person who came here from the south. All this is diluted with the hero’s long philosophizing, but not a bad dilution.

The book could use some editing, since there are too many repetitions in Cyrus’s reasoning, and when I came across the same phrase twice on the same page, I realized that the editor had not spent the night there.

Spoiler (plot reveal) (click on it to see)

The elevator was already very close, but I would prefer not to get home today at all than to enter it with her.

The elevator arrived, the doors opened, and Veronica, sliding towards them, made an inviting gesture. Come on in, buddy, it's time to go upstairs. But I would rather not return home at all today than go into it with her.

This is bad, I'm taking off a point for that.

Rating: 6

There's no shortage of atmosphere, it's truly scary. There's too much reasoning for my taste (although it's very clever and useful), which is offset by the plot. There's a lot of blood and monsters, it's easy to read, it's hard to put down - my wife read it in a couple of evenings, she advised me to familiarize myself with Sergei's work. I don't regret it! If the author repeated the same reasoning several times, it would be something like Lukyanensky with his “good-evil” sentinels and trampling in one place. "Necromancer" is much more interesting, do not listen to those who try to compare these two works - heaven and earth. Sometimes it may seem like “I’ve already read that somewhere.” Maybe. This topic comes up quite often. But Demyanov found an unexpected angle. Which? Read a book. Yes, and don’t pay attention to the cover - the novel is wonderful, and the ending is great! Must read!

Rating: 8

A good urban dark fantasy novel.

Quite an interesting plot, although the author followed a path trodden long before him by many writers. The main character is a necromancer who refuses to raise the undead, but rather disincarnates zombies everywhere. In his free time, he helps the police solve mysterious crimes. Quite a good detective story.

The book contains several necromancers, vampires, demons, zombies and other undead. The location is Moscow. Time - 21st century. Also, the main character will visit a parallel infernal world.

Good writing, easy to read. The plot develops with acceptable dynamics. The action is interspersed with discussions about the meaning of life and the futility of everything futile. The author managed to create a gloomy atmosphere of the underbelly of a modern metropolis.

Rating: 9

Impressions about the book are twofold... On the one hand, there is an interesting and quite original plot, but the impression of it is spoiled by the excessive (in my opinion) number of thoughts by the GG. ...The hero thinks in great detail about everything and for any reason..... before any action (we immediately learn about all the characters who are going to take part in the action and a little about their lives), during this action (we learn in detail the characters of the characters and what about GG thinks about them) and after (afterwards we will once again remember all the participants and arrange a debriefing)…. Let’s add to those considerations the thought of the heavy burden of the poor necromantic, who, unlike his bad colleagues, does not raise zombies, but following his principles (although this is “VERY” difficult), only puts them to rest by refusing generous offers and spitting on all the threats...

Also, in my opinion, the author crookedly integrated magic into our realities and thereby created a bunch of logical inconsistencies….. For example, the use of zombies as free labor…. On the one hand, everything is logical. There are bad necromancers who raise zombies and force them to work for the benefit of their owner. A limited number of people know about what is happening, and the majority know nothing. Here the author is right, well, which ordinary person would look too closely at homeless people/beggars in the subway or migrant workers at some closed construction site. And with the frozen undead, everything is also understandable, what normal, mentally adequate individual, having heard the barking of dogs, will run to find out whether the dogs are really squabbling there or whether it is the pack of undead who are sorting things out... . But on the other hand, some confusion begins... . all this chaos is opposed by a small group of enthusiasts, consisting of a necromancer, mediums and individuals who have suffered from the clutches of the undead... And here the main question arises, where have the competent authorities gone (I don’t mean the police, although they should be one of the first to know what is happening, who besides them is chasing beggars from everywhere, who is helping the FMS in the hunt for guest workers...) , and more serious services? Full-fledged combat operations are underway right under their noses..... a bunch of civilians with firearms to their advantage are shooting at packs of undead... in the subway, in front of hundreds (or even thousands, if at rush hour) of people, under the guns of dozens of cameras, beggars turn into stinking heaps... . Packs of thousand-year-old vampires are walking around the world... . And no one is itching... . All the special departments seemed to have gone blind... And only in our time (well, in the period of time described by the author), they decided to become interested in what was happening (and somehow they started it stupidly)... The FSB regiment begs the necromantic to cooperate with them, although there are more than enough levers of pressure on him (carrying, storing firearms without permission... and this, by the way, is up to 4 years, plus the same violation, but by a group of people already lasts up to 6 years, add its use and we get up to 8 years)…. And the major from the special forces actually killed with his vision of using the undead (sending them to do hard and dangerous work...) and this is provided that, having a necromancer, you can get almost any secret information... After all, you just need to kill its carrier and deliver the body to your a spellbinder, he will cast a spell and now the newly raised zombie, covers the topic of interest in detail, with explanations..... I’m generally silent about the adventure of the gg in the world of demons (Clete Eastwood alone is worth something... )Rating: 3

A book of a rare genre and style for Russian literature. A well-written book, moreover, but it could have been much better if not for two shortcomings, which some have already mentioned, but I will repeat it anyway:

1) A lot of water. No, I’m not against water as such, especially in fantasy, because it adds color to the overall picture of the world, giving the reader food for thought. But there’s really a lot of it here, especially in the first two-thirds of the novel. I’d venture to suggest that this is due to the fact that this part of the novel was written in very small passages with large time gaps between each other. The author quickly lost the sense of his own world, and in this way he returned it. But in the last third the plot gained momentum, and the author almost corrected himself. But still, this water infuriated me, I also read diagonally, and, I must say, I missed little. I just think it’s wrong when the author describes how the main character is beaten, and then a heavy shoe is placed on his face, and at the same time he indulges in thoughts for a couple (!) pages about what the drawing on this shoe reminds him of how and why it’s hard to live in Moscow these days (don’t look for this scene in the novel, I just made an analogy). One sentence, well, one tiny paragraph will do. But not a couple of pages! All the hard-earned fire of the conflict seems to be sprinkled with sand at this moment. Oh, yes, with water...

2) Short sentences that look like stumps of each other, which is why the first two-thirds of the text reads as if you are driving on gravel, but you would like to glide on smooth ice. You can close your eyes to this, but it’s still unpleasant. Between most of them you can safely erase the period and put a comma, but the author seems to be afraid of sentences longer than 40 characters. But in the last third it gets better again.

I haven’t noticed the Search for Deep Meaning Syndrome, so I’ll just go over the positive aspects of the book and other noteworthy moments.

It’s immediately clear where the book’s legs come from: stories about Harry Dresden, as well as a series of comics about John Constantine (in fact, Dresden also came from him). Vampires are overused these days, but I liked the idea that to survive it’s not enough for a vampire to just drink blood, but also do evil, it’s quite new. “Pianos in the bushes” are present, a couple of cardboard characters-extras, which could be done without, too, but at the same time there are bright personalities, and unexpected moves are also rarely found. The plot is simple, but this is not a drawback, otherwise the book would look overloaded.

I'm looking forward to the continuation.

Rating: 7

“All you need is love” (c)

I believe this is a book about love. Not about love between a man and a woman, but about LOVE: for children, for parents, for friends, for neighbors, for animals, and just for strangers. About what everyone needs, from hamsters to entities from the other world. And about what happens when this very LOVE is not there. After all, it is the absence of LOVE that makes us lonely, defenseless, vulnerable, and turns some into monsters.

The main feature of Demyanov’s hero, the necromancer Kirill, is not the ability to destroy zombies and other monsters like them, as it might seem at first, but the ability to sympathize. To sympathize with someone who, due to human cruelty and the desire for profit, has become a monster, and even with someone who just lost his dog. But it’s easy to sympathize and not help. Therefore, Kirill does not raise zombies, but puts them to rest, and that is why he searches for (and finds) missing people and animals and helps his investigator friend solve murders.

The fact that the author repeats himself in some of his reasoning is connected, it seems to me, with the desire to reach the reader, to make sure that the words evoked some kind of response in the soul, made me think again: am I living correctly? This is not about the meaning of life, but about the evil that each of us has once committed or will commit. And if, thanks to these words of the author, someone does not throw a dog into the street or helps a complete stranger, then there will be less evil in this world. A little.

Rating: 9

A highly promoted commercial dud. A lot of money has been invested - it’s noticeable. The book has just been published, and has already spread across all electronic platforms, where the hired clique filled the entire space with admiring snot. Go to Flibusta and read real reviews - you will understand the difference. GG's sickeningly long arguments are disgusting. I want to wash my hands with soap for a long, long time after this. If you squeeze all the water out of the novel, pseudo-intelligent nonsense, you will get such a strong story with a C grade. Wading through the palisade of phrases that add nothing to the plot is very difficult and dreary. The idea that Moscow is inhabited by the rotting remains of people is fresh and unique. To everyone who likes this, congratulations.

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. It's 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. - 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. It's 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. - 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.

annotation

Some people think that vampires are people like us, only they have a strange diet and a long life. This is wrong. In order to live, a vampire must do evil.
Five years ago I was sure that I knew everything about my city. I didn’t pay attention to beggars on the subway, didn’t read books about vampires and the living dead, went to work during the day, and in the evening calmly returned to a safe home, to the woman I loved. And then she tried to kill me... Since then I have made a career. Now the oldest vampire in the city wants me to raise a zombie for her, a serial killer-sorcerer is going to disembowel me alive, and the owners of Moscow's poor and disenfranchised migrant workers dream of getting rid of me. I'm ruining their business because I don't think money is the most important thing in the world. I'm a lousy Lancelot. They forgot to give me a white horse and a magic sword. But people like me don't have to have guns. I myself am a weapon. I am a necromancer.

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Even in the Metro you can find St. Petersburg ©But this is a 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 handed over 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 painfully. 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. If only someone had advised me. However, to summarize, it’s a quite suitable, efficient and dark urban fantasy.

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... Once upon a time, 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 book that I have read. 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 don’t we have ideas about true goodness? It’s night, cold, too wintry March. I'm probably not kind either. I won't go back to bed. I will drink bitter coffee in a 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?

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 fee. 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 away 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. And 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. This is his job. Our capital is not the calmest 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. This is 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 high-quality debut, it’s a pleasure to read. Okay, stop. Don’t get me wrong – few people will be thrilled to read the description of the appearance of zombies that are not the first freshness, for example, 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.

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. It's 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. - 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.