And why, Viola Tarakanova, can’t I say “no”? The PR director at the publishing house that issues my books under the pseudonym Arina Violova invited me over—and now I’m standing at her house with a box of pizza tucked under my arm. The door was open, and the house was empty… Then I saw through the window how unfeeling Vera was carried away on someone’s shoulder… a werewolf! Of course, I was convinced it was just erotic games, but the next day Vera was found dead! She died the night of December fifteenth, and it turned out that for the third year in a row, on this not-at-all “red” day on the calendar, someone has been killing women who share one sign—a different-colored eyes. People still consider them witches! The investigation is led by my ex-husband, Oleg Kuprin, so for me it’s a matter of honor to find out everything before he does. But first, I have to fulfill an unusual request from the publisher—help my devoted fan, Ivan Zaretsky. He wants to arrange… his own funeral in advance!