Red chains. Samples K.A.

The dull and stiff spirit of the old city remains the same: the spirit of the dead man who arrogantly looks at the vanity of the world of the living. It seems that even the inhabitants of the houses remain the same as a hundred years ago: people similar to ghosts, and ghosts, similar to people. The giant swamp, buried under the heavy grave of the city, exhales fog, leaking through raw stones to the blasphemer sky, and its rotten evaporation impregnes the mind, souls and bodies of living...

Petersburg, our days. In the city there are brutal killings, clearly committed by adherents of some bloody cult. Two-a funeral agent that stores its own gloomy secrets, and a foreman-criminal-by the will of the case begins their investigation: official services are inactive, and unknown killers protects someone's powerful patronage. Such is the tie this eerie and confusing story, in which the crimson-red links of medieval mysteries, criminal passions, madness and loneliness were weaved into a single chain.