The room had a very particular smell to it: dry wood shavings, cured leather, and the sharp bite of chemicals that would make an unaccustomed person’s eyes water. But to Ksenia, that thick, heavy air felt familiar. With calm, practiced care, she was stretching a fox pelt over a form. Taxidermy was not work that allowed haste. It demanded a surgeon’s hands and an artist’s spirit to restore the likeness of life to something that had already lost it.
Ksenia loved her work for its silence. Dead animals did not lie, betray, or ask for anything except respect for the shape they were given in the end.
The workshop door swung open without a knock, letting in the noise of the street and a wave of sickly sweet perfume. Larisa stood in the doorway. Igor’s sister looked like the display window of an expensive boutique after a truck full of makeup had crashed into it—too bright, too much, too eager to impress.
“Ugh, what a stink,” Larisa said, wrinkling her nose without crossing the threshold, as though she were afraid the sawdust might ruin her suede shoes. “How can you stand being in here? It’s like a morgue.”
Ksenia did not turn around. She kept smoothing the fur over the fox’s ear.
“Hello, Larisa. This is a workshop. Did something happen?”
“It did,” her sister-in-law said, walking inside, her heels clicking over the wooden floor. She looked over the shelves lined with glass eyes, jars, and tools with open disgust. “Vadik and I decided it’s time for us to move up. Business is booming, and we need something more presentable.”
“Good for you,” Ksenia replied evenly, wiping her hands on a rag.
“I knew you’d understand.” Larisa dropped onto the only client chair, brushing away dust that was not there. “Your apartment on the embankment is perfect for us. Central location, great view, good square footage. We’re moving in on Saturday.”
Ksenia went still. Slowly, she turned to face her sister-in-law. In her eyes, usually calm and the color of cooled tea, a flicker of disbelief appeared.
“What do you mean, moving in? It’s being renovated. I’m getting it ready for Igor and me.”
“Oh, come on.” Larisa waved her hand, her heavy rings flashing. “That place is too much for just the two of you. You’re young, you can stay here among your stuffed animals. Or with Igor’s aunt—she’s rattling around alone anyway. Vadik and I need status. Clients, partners… where are we supposed to receive them? In a one-room flat? Besides, Grandma Nina said this is only fair. Igor is the younger one. He should help his sister.”
Larisa’s arrogance was not just part of her personality—it was the beam holding her entire character together. She genuinely believed the world revolved around her desires.
“Larisa,” Ksenia said, and her voice became as firm as wire, “the apartment on the embankment was a gift from my grandfather. It is in my name. Neither you, nor your husband, nor your grandmother have anything to do with it.”
Her sister-in-law stood up.
“Oh, so that’s how it is? You begrudge family? We’re family! Igor is my brother! That means everything is shared. What, do you want to leave Vadik and me out on the street? We already chose not to renew the lease on our place because we were counting on some understanding!”
“That is your problem,” Ksenia said sharply. “This conversation is over. I have work to do.”
Larisa narrowed her eyes.
“You’ll regret this, taxidermy freak,” she hissed. “You think a property deed is going to save you? In our family, Grandma is the one in charge, and whatever she says is what happens. And Igor… Igor will do what I tell him. He’s spineless, unlike you, you office rat. Although no—stuffing rats is probably more your thing.”
She turned and walked out. The fox on the table seemed to be watching Ksenia with its new, not yet fully set eyes, as if warning her that danger was coming.
The wind over the airfield tore at clothing as if trying to knock people off their feet. Igor was used to it. He adjusted the heavy leather glove on his left hand. A huge saker falcon perched on his forearm, clicking and shifting uneasily, sensing strangers approaching. Working as an ornithologist at the airport demanded a complete merging of nature and machinery: Igor’s birds protected the skies by driving other birds away so they would not end up in aircraft turbines.
A black SUV pulled up near the hangar. Out climbed Vadim—Larisa’s husband, built like an oversized wardrobe with a tiny head—and Grandma Nina, leaning on a cane topped with a wolf’s-head handle.
Grandma Nina was the matriarch of the clan. Dry, wiry, and thin-lipped, she kept the whole family in fear, except perhaps for Igor, who had always tried to keep as much distance from her as possible.
“Igoryok!” Vadim shouted as he came closer, his voice nearly swallowed by the roar of warming engines. “Need a word, brother!”
Igor placed the falcon on its perch, put the hood over the bird’s head to calm it, and stepped toward them.
“Hi, Vadim. Hello, Grandma. What are you doing here? Outsiders aren’t allowed in here.”
“For family, there are no closed doors,” Grandma Nina rasped. She looked at her grandson as though he were a foolish child. “Larisa came home in tears. Your girl insulted her.”
“Ksenia didn’t insult anybody,” Igor said, frowning. “Larisa demanded the keys to her apartment. That’s outrageous.”
“That’s fairness!” Vadim barked, flexing the biceps straining against his tight jacket. “Larisa and I are drowning in debt. We need a fresh start. A proper place to live, somewhere we can bring people. And your wife… she’s selfish. Her grandfather was loaded—he probably left enough for ten more places like that. But we’re your own blood. You need to talk to her.”
“I’m not talking anyone into anything,” Igor said, crossing his arms over his chest. “The apartment belongs to Ksyusha. End of story. Stay out of our lives.”
Grandma Nina stepped right up to him and jabbed a bony finger into his chest.
“You forgot who raised you, you little wretch? When your parents were away working, who took care of you? Larisa did. She wiped your nose for you. And now you’re throwing her out on the street for some woman?”
“She’s my wife, Grandma.”
“A wife is not a wall,” the old woman snapped, striking her cane against the concrete. “Today one, tomorrow another. Blood is forever. If you don’t make her hand over those keys, we’ll curse you. You know I carry a heavy eye. And you’ll start having trouble at work too. Vadim can arrange that.”
Vadim smirked, showing a row of yellow teeth.
“Don’t upset Grandma, Igoryok. And don’t upset me. Larisa is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She needs comfort so she can recover. That apartment on the embankment is perfect. We’ll be moving in next week, so bring the keys.”
They turned and headed back to the car, fully convinced they were in the right. Igor watched them go. He knew how to handle birds of prey, but faced with predators in human form, he always seemed to lose himself.
The old garden had grown so wild that apple branches knocked against the veranda windows. Aunt Tamara, the only sensible relative on Igor’s side, was setting the table. It was meant to be a quiet family dinner, but the “clan” had decided otherwise.
Larisa did not come alone. She brought her friend Sveta—the same one who worked for a notary and was always handing out “valuable legal advice.” Vadim was outside grilling kebabs into charcoal, while Grandma Nina sat at the head of the table like a queen mother.
Ksenia and Igor sat side by side, untouched food in front of them. The atmosphere was crackling with tension.
“Ksyusha, dear,” Grandma Nina began in a syrupy voice that made the skin crawl, “we’ve discussed everything and decided we don’t want conflict. We’re willing to make a compromise.”
“What kind of compromise?” Ksenia asked.
“You transfer half the apartment into Igor’s name,” Sveta cut in, adjusting her glasses. “That guarantees his rights. And then Igor, as a loving brother, lets Larisa and Vadim live there. For an indefinite period. Free of charge. Legally, it’s a very sound arrangement.”
“Are you all out of your minds?” Ksenia swept her gaze over the whole absurd gathering. “It was a gift. I’m not transferring anything.”
“You’re greedy,” Larisa spat, biting into a cucumber with a loud crunch. “Greedy and cruel. We came to you in good faith, and you…”
“In good faith? You’re extortionists!” Aunt Tamara snapped, setting down a dish of potatoes. “Leave these kids alone! Larisa, you’re a healthy grown woman—go get a job instead of wasting your life in beauty salons!”
“Shut up, old woman!” Vadim roared from the grill. “No one asked you. This is family business.”
“Exactly, family business,” Larisa said, locking eyes with Ksenia. “You’re the outsider here. You walked into everything already made. Igor is soft—we’ve always protected him. And you’re taking advantage of that. If you don’t hand over the apartment nicely, we’ll make sure you can’t work in this city. Sveta has connections. They’ll send inspections to your little horror shop. They’ll find some contamination or violation and hit you with fines you’ll never recover from.”
Ksenia felt something tighten inside her. Fear? No.
“Don’t threaten me,” she said quietly.
“Or what?” Larisa burst into laughter. “You’ll throw one of your stuffed animals at me? You’re nobody, Ksyusha. Nothing at all. Hand the keys to Vadim right now.”
Igor tried to stand, but Vadim came up behind him and planted a heavy hand on his shoulder, pressing him back into the chair.
“Sit down, brother. Let the women sort it out.”
Ksenia stood up.
“Let’s go, Igor.”
“He’s not going anywhere!” Grandma Nina shrieked. “Not until this is settled!”
But Igor threw off his brother-in-law’s hand and followed his wife. Curses and promises of a “sweet life” followed them out. The rot in that family seeped from every crack in the old country house.
A week passed. The calls never stopped, but Ksenia had blocked every number. Igor grew darker by the day, spending whole days and nights at the airfield just so he would not have to think about his relatives.
That evening, Ksenia came home early. As she climbed to the third floor of the tall Stalin-era building, she heard a strange sound.
A buzzing. The scrape of metal.
She ran up the stairs and froze.
Her apartment door stood wide open. The lock cylinder lay on the floor, crudely drilled out and destroyed. Vadim stood in the doorway, wiping his hands on his pants. Beside him, Larisa was barking orders at two sketchy-looking movers.
“Careful with the sofa, idiots! Don’t scratch the frame!” she shouted.
“What are you doing?!” Ksenia gasped in outrage. “Get out of here! I’m calling the police!”
Vadim turned lazily toward her, his massive body blocking the entrance.
“Don’t make a scene, sister-in-law. We live here now. Grandma gave her blessing. And go ahead, call the cops. We’ll say Igor gave us the keys. Family dispute—they won’t get involved.”
“Igor gave you nothing! You broke in!”
“Prove it,” Larisa smirked, peering from behind her husband’s shoulder. “The locks were old. They broke on their own. We’ll install new ones. And while we were at it, we looked through your things too. What junk. We already took some of it down to the trash to free up space for my dresses.”
They had thrown out her belongings. Her grandfather’s things. Her tools. Her life.
“My things…” she whispered.
“Oh, who needed them? It was all old garbage anyway,” Larisa snorted. “Now get lost. Come back when you’ve calmed down, and maybe we can discuss a visitation schedule. If you behave yourself, we might even let you sleep in the kitchen.”
Vadim shoved her in the chest—not hard, but enough to humiliate. Ksenia staggered back a step, her spine hitting the railing.
“Get out,” he said in a bored voice. “Don’t get in the way while people are settling in.”
At that moment, something inside Ksenia snapped. Loudly. Completely. Fear vanished. So did her manners, her restraint, her upbringing. All that remained was a primitive, black, boiling fury. She looked at Vadim’s smug face, Larisa’s sneer, and the world seemed to wash over in red.
Ksenia let out a howl—low, raw, terrifying, like a wounded animal. In an instant, the fragile woman was gone, and something feral had taken her place.
With a savage cry, she hurled herself at Vadim. He had not expected that. He had been waiting for tears, hysteria, pleading—but not this. Ksenia slammed into him with all her weight, her nails clawing at his face.
“Ahhh! Are you insane?!” Vadim screamed, trying to tear her off him.
But Ksenia had found a mad kind of strength. She ripped at his skin, clawed toward his eyes, bit his hands. Losing his balance, Vadim crashed onto the hallway floor, dragging her down with him. The thunder of the fall drowned out Larisa’s shrieks.
Ksenia got up first. Her hair was disheveled, her blouse torn, but her eyes burned like fire from hell. Vadim whimpered on the floor, covering his scratched and bloodied face.
“She’s killing him!” Larisa shrieked, backing deeper into the corridor. “Help!”
Stepping over the groaning bodybuilder, Ksenia moved toward her sister-in-law.
“My home,” she rasped. The voice did not sound like hers anymore—lower, vibrating with hatred. “Out.”
Larisa snatched a heavy vase from a side table.
“Don’t come any closer! I’ll smash your skull in!”
Ksenia did not even slow down. She struck the vase aside with one sharp blow of her hand, and it shattered against the wall, spraying both of them with shards. Then she seized Larisa by the lapels of her expensive designer jacket. The fabric tore.
“You filthy creature,” Ksenia snarled, shaking her so hard Larisa’s teeth clacked together. “You thought I’d stay quiet? You thought I’d just take this?”
“Let go!” Larisa wailed, struggling to pull free, but the grip of a taxidermist—hands used to tough hide and muscle—was like steel.
Ksenia shoved her hard toward the exit. Larisa stumbled over the movers’ feet. They had flattened themselves against the wall and were watching the scene in horror.
“Get out!” Ksenia roared at them. “Or I’ll turn you into exhibits too!”
The men took one look at the wild stare and the blood on the owner’s hands, dropped the sofa in the middle of the hallway, and bolted for the door so fast they nearly tore it off its hinges. They were hired muscle, not demon fighters.
Vadim tried to get up, but Ksenia kicked him in the ribs so hard he folded over again.
“Crawl,” she barked. “Crawl out of here before I break your legs.”
She grabbed Larisa by the hair and dragged her to the door. Larisa screamed, scraping the floor with her heels, begging, but Ksenia heard none of it.
“This apartment was left to me, not to you, so gather your things!” she growled, hurling Larisa onto the landing. “And take your husband with you!”
Vadim came flying after her, half-kicked out like a misbehaving dog. His fashionable T-shirt was in shreds, his face streaked with blood.
Doors began opening up and down the staircase. An elderly neighbor from the lower landing, Maria Ivanovna, stepped out. She took in the sight of Larisa in tatters and tears, Vadim bloodied and whimpering, and Ksenia standing in the doorway.
“What on earth is happening here?” Maria Ivanovna squeaked.
“Taking out the trash,” Ksenia said flatly.
Larisa, crying, tried to gather the remnants of her dignity along with her torn jacket.
“You’ll pay for this… You psychopath… We’ll sue…” she muttered, smearing mascara across her face.
“One more word,” Ksenia said softly, but with a chill that cut through the stairwell as she stepped forward, “and I’ll forget you’re my husband’s sister. I’ll turn you into an exhibit. You know me. I’m very good with empty shells.”
Animal terror flashed in Larisa’s eyes. She understood then that the quiet little mouse was not joking. This rage was real—not the theatrical tantrums Larisa herself was used to, but a deep, dark force from someone who had been pushed all the way into a corner.
Larisa grabbed the whining Vadim under the arm, and the two of them stumbled down the stairs, limping, slipping, and leaving behind smears of blood and a long trail of humiliation. Rats fleeing a ship—only this ship was not sinking at all, but armed for battle.
Ksenia remained in the doorway until the sound of their footsteps finally faded.
A minute later, Igor came running up the stairs. He saw the broken door, the blood on the floor, and his wife sitting among the shards of the smashed vase.
“Ksyusha!” He rushed to her. “What happened? I saw Vadim’s car—they tore out of here like maniacs… Did they touch you?”
Ksenia lifted her eyes to him. The madness was gone now. Only exhaustion remained, along with a strange, unsettling calm. She looked down at her hands, marked with someone else’s blood and grime.
“No, Igor,” she said evenly. “They didn’t touch me. They just walked through the wrong door.”
She rose, brushed off her skirt, and looked coldly in the direction her tormentors had disappeared.
“Close the door, Igor. We need to clean up. And change the locks. Today.”
Igor looked at his wife, and in his expression there was not only love, but a new emotion too—something he had never felt before, a fear laced with respect. In that moment he understood that no one would ever dare hurt their family again.
Because now, their family had teeth.