The Blue Nightmare

"Do you hear the clicking?" When I heard Kaya's voice, I looked at him out of the corner of my eye; he was staring straight at the pit in front of us. "What clicking?" I asked in a low voice. While still staring in that direction, he spoke, "The sound your shoes make." I exhaled loudly and turned to him with an exhausted expression, "So what?" This time, Kaya decided to look at my face and turned to me, "That will be the last sound he hears." He was truly talking nonsense. A few men had entered the dug pit, placed the coffin, and were covering it with soil, and Kaya was saying the last sound the man in the coffin heard was the clicking of footsteps. "If you're so upset, lean over and say a few sentences to the man," I said, turning away and starting to walk away from the graveside. Though I thought Kaya would continue to stand there, I could hear him following a few steps behind me.

"Don't you think it's strange? Two people died within two weeks." I was aware of what he was saying, but I tried not to care. I spoke while opening my bag and searching for my keys, "Is that so?" I asked as if indifferent. Kaya suddenly caught up to me and closed the door of my car, which I had opened and was about to get into, "Exactly so," he said, leaning toward my face. Finally giving up, I took a deep breath and looked into his face, "So, Kaya? What can I do about this situation? If there's really something you suspect, go talk to my uncle or my father."

Just as Kaya was about to say something, I saw my uncle behind him trying to get our attention and nudged Kaya to look that way. When Kaya made gestures and facial expressions to his father meaning 'what is it?', my uncle pointed to the phone in his hand. Along with Kaya, I took out my phone and saw that one of those self-destructing messages had arrived. It said that when the funeral ceremony was over, everyone should return to the Mahzen (The Vault), and a meeting would be held. I held up the phone and signaled to Kaya, "You got what you wanted; they'll probably talk about this at the meeting."

When Kaya was done with me, he left my side; I got into my car without anyone blocking me, started it, and left the street where the cemetery was. The Mahzen was not very far from here; like the cemetery, it was quite far outside the city. After a while, almost all the black vehicles following me passed me, but I didn't increase my speed; I was in no hurry.

My vehicle was the last one to enter the Mahzen's garden; I got out without lingering and, while entering the building, took off my sunglasses and put them in my bag. There was a stifling air in the Mahzen today; I suppose two consecutive funerals had scared people. When I entered the meeting hall, I saw it wasn't completely full yet. Besides my uncle, my father, and Kaya, Orya and Noris were here. Orya was a pleasant woman in her late thirties. Noris was a young man around Kaya's age.

I stopped lingering at the door, walked to the table, and settled into my chair next to my father; before I could even take out my phone to pass the time, the hall suddenly filled up. All but two of the empty chairs were filled, and Valnikov took his place at the head of the table. "May our friends rest in peace, but we have things to talk about," he began. The "Table" in the Mahzen consisted of twelve families; the seat owners at the Table were free to leave their places to any of their own lineage or to give a new seat to any of their lineage. However, the head seat was special; it had its own unique sovereignty. The person in the head seat would sit there until he left it to a healthy son. In the past, I had heard a few times of dominant names passing the head seat to their daughters after them, but I had never witnessed it with my own eyes; it was said to be an extremely rare event.

Now there were ten families left at the Table. Neither the member we buried last week nor the one today had brought anyone from their own lineage to the Table, meaning their surnames were erased from the Table forever. Valnikov continued, "It was no coincidence that both of our friends were the only ones representing their families here; an evil power is trying to destroy us by reducing the number of families at our Table and eventually bringing it to zero. This evil power could be among us, or it could be someone from the outside." He moved his pale blue eyes over all of us one by one as if wanting to intimidate us and continued, "Until we find out who did this, all of you are suspects as well as potential victims. Not one more person will leave the Table; everyone will protect the lineage or lineages they brought to the Table."

"The police aren't going to find the killer, we will; we need to know how our friends died." Valnikov turned toward the direction of the voice and nodded; the speaker was one of the few members he liked. He signaled to the guard standing behind him; the man took a file from his inner jacket pocket and gave it to him. Valnikov took a small flash drive from inside the file and gave it to the guard; this time, the man went toward the projector and computer with the flash drive. Before long, crime scene photos were reflected on the wall behind Valnikov. I grimaced when I saw the first one; the man's throat had been slit. When the photo changed, we saw a close-up of a perfume bottle standing at the head of the corpse. Without anyone being given a chance to comment, the photo changed again, and we saw the body of the member whose funeral we went to today; this was a more bearable and familiar image; the man had been shot in the head. I slowly leaned toward Kaya and whispered, "So the last sound he heard was the sound of the bullet hitting his head."

When the picture changed again, I gave it my attention; my eyebrows furrowed at the detail I noticed. There was a wide shot of the crime scene in the photo, and on the console in the back stood the perfume bottle that was at the head of the previous corpse. Before speaking up, I leaned toward Kaya again, "Did Mahir ever go home with a woman?" Kaya naturally found my question odd and looked at my face with a strange expression, but seeing that I was waiting for him to answer, he said, "I haven't even seen a female cat near him; I think he was gay." If gay men don't use women's perfume—which a gay man who came to the Mahzen four days a week would never do—there was something strange about this perfume business.

"Can you zoom in on that photo a bit?" Because the perfume was in a place that didn't draw much attention, I thought I was the only one who noticed it, but apparently I was wrong; Pusat Demirhan must have noticed the same thing because he asked them to zoom in on the photo. When the background of the photo was enlarged, everyone saw the perfume bottle. "What on earth is this? Why are we paying attention to this?" asked the member who originally wanted to see the crime scene. "The same bottle was standing at the head of the previous corpse," Pusat explained. When everyone started looking at the picture more carefully, I spoke, "This is one of Dior's most famous perfumes. Its name is Hypnotic Poison." Remembering that both deceased were men, I added so they wouldn't think the perfumes belonged to them, "It's a woman's perfume."

"What does Hypnotic Poison even mean? Is someone trying to give a message?" I shrugged in response to my uncle's question, meaning I didn't know, "Why not."

"Perhaps it's just a coincidence." Valnikov closed the subject that way and continued giving information about the incident from the file in his hand. Although some asked for a copy of the file saying they would investigate, I couldn't ask for a copy because my father didn't have such a request; at the Table, the elder's word carried weight.

However, having a copy of the file wouldn't have been bad because the perfume issue stuck in my mind, especially after what Pusat said. It could also be just a single perfume bottle. The killer might be leaving the bottle at the crime scene as a signature, taking it back, and leaving it at the crime scene where he will kill his next victim. My idea sounded ridiculous to an ordinary ear, but everyone at the Table had a signature. For example, Valnikov would fire three times—one to the forehead and two to the legs—drawing a triangle. Orya would cover her victims' faces with their hats and leave a carnation in their laps. My father never told me his signature, but I knew that my uncle wrote his own initial with the blood of the person he killed. Everyone had signatures like these that seemed ridiculous but which they believed were necessary; they were advertising that they were the executioner of the person they killed to intimidate others.

While I was lost in thought, Valnikov must have finished his speech because everyone was packing up; I came to my senses when Kaya nudged my arm. "Come on, get up, do you have more work?" he asked. I shook my head no, took my bag, pushed my chair, and stood up. "Why are you waiting for me, are you going to say something?" I said as I walked toward the door. "You spoke at the Table for the first time, what's up with that?" he asked, getting straight to the point. "What, what's up? I just said the name of the perfume," I said.

"I don't know, I didn't understand how you guys brought the matter to that point from a perfume anyway," he said. When we reached my car, I grabbed the door handle. "In that case, you keep thinking about what the last sound Mahir heard was; I have things to do." I opened the door, got into the driver's seat, waved at Kaya, and started the car. As I was pulling out of the parking spot, he disappeared toward his own car.

When I left the Mahzen and entered the turn-off to the ring road, I had separated from the other vehicles, and there was no one else around. This caused me to feel spooked, so I increased my speed a bit. The fact that two families had been completely erased from the Table was making me uneasy. My father, I, my uncle, and Kaya were members of one family at the Table, the Erginsoy family. Unfortunately, I was the weak link; if it were our family's turn, I would be the first target. This was weighing on me so much that I couldn't ignore the fact that there might be a killer out to destroy the Table. Two people being killed in a row could be a one-in-a-thousand coincidence, but I didn't want to cling to that small possibility and comfort myself.

If I didn't have to die for it to happen, the idea of the Table being destroyed wasn't actually a bad one. I wasn't happy to be a member, but unfortunately, it wasn't up to me. Members were determined in their childhood. If a member wanted to bring his heir to the Table, when he had a child, if the child was healthy, he would show them as his future heir regardless of gender. I was my parents' only child; they had no other children, so my father had shown his daughter as his heir. My mother had hated this situation from the very beginning, but my father had managed to convince her somehow. I thought he was lying to my mother because the only way to leave the Table was to die or lose one's physical or mental health.

As it began to get dark, I slowed down a bit and urged myself not to think about the Table. Shortly after, when the familiar cypress trees came into my field of vision, I was glad to realize I had finally arrived home and turned into the path leading to the house. When the automatic gate recognized my license plate and opened, I entered the garden, parked next to my father's car, and got out. I walked to the door with unhurried steps, went up the stairs, smiled at the girl who opened the door for me, and went inside.

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When I got home, I had gone to my room to change without joining dinner, and I had examined the photos the agency sent; later, I had removed my makeup and nail polish and taken a shower. Although my time in the shower was long, I finally came out; I wiped the fog off the mirror, leaned in, and looked at my skin; it looked good. Still, I took a face mask out of the drawer, opened the package, and carefully placed the mask on my face. Realizing I had forgotten to pin back my hair, I struggled to keep the mask from falling while taking two clips and pinning my hair from the sides. Later, I took the face roller and moved it over the mask on my face for a few seconds. I also set aside the stone I used for face yoga to use after removing the mask and left the bathroom in my room.

When I went into my room, my first task was to light the scented candles on the nightstand and the console. While they were burning and spreading their scent, I sat down at the vanity, sprayed a clean and light scent that wouldn't bother me while sleeping, opened the drawer where my nail polishes were, and took my shiniest black polish and closed it. I had to remove the mask fifteen minutes later, and applying nail polish now was not logical at all because even if I finished applying it by the time I removed the mask, it wouldn't be dry, and the polish would be ruined while I removed the mask and did face yoga. But my head was too full right now; despite being aware, I had already started applying it.

After applying the polish to all my nails, I started sitting aimlessly at the vanity; I was cold because I hadn't put on my underwear either, but I couldn't get up. After sitting for a long time, I touched the polish with the tip of my nail to check it and, seeing that no mark was left, I was convinced it was dry. I got up, walked to the bathroom, removed the mask, and threw it in the trash. I took the stone and started massaging my jaw and cheekbones. When I had done enough massage and the lotion of the mask was almost completely gone, I stopped and cleaned the stone and put it back. I washed and dried my face, applied moisturizer, and left the bathroom. I went into the dressing room, took a set of black underwear and put it on, and opened the closet door to get pajamas, but my hand wouldn't go to the pajamas.

I was seriously obsessed with the perfume. What would I lose if I went to Mahir's house and looked for the perfume?

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"I really can't believe you, Vera!" I took my eyes off the rearview mirror and turned them to my hands wrapped around the steering wheel, lifted my fingers and looked at them, "I spent all evening doing self-care and applying nail polish, and instead of getting into my warm bed and sleeping, what am I doing?" I said to myself. Unfortunately, I couldn't stop the curious woman inside me and had come all the way to Mahir's house. I didn't know what I was trusting to come here while there was a killer around, but I hoped the killer wouldn't come back here; besides, there was no reason for him to. While he was focused on his new victims, he wouldn't find me while I was here, would he?

I took my phone and small flashlight from my bag on the passenger seat, got out of the car, locked it, threw the key along with my phone into the pocket of the sleeveless puffer vest I was wearing, and zipped it up. I had parked the car a bit far away to avoid drawing attention; I started walking from the darker corners of the walls to avoid being seen until I walked to the house, and I walked to Mahir's house with fast but silent steps. Since the front garden gate wouldn't open as there was no one inside, including security, I would have to climb.

When I looked at the walls, I saw that it was not possible for me to climb; there wasn't a single protrusion on the walls. I came in front of the iron gate and tried to reach out with the spaced bars at the top. When I realized I could hold on to the gap between two bars, I came to the part closest to the wall, hung onto where I was holding, and tried to pull myself up, while also getting support from the wall with my foot. When I finally managed to throw one hand high enough to hold onto the very top of the gate, realizing I couldn't hold on any longer, I pulled up the leg I had leaning against the wall and sat, so to speak, on top of the gate. Realizing I couldn't jump from here, I pushed myself toward the wall and leaned my back against the wall. When I slowly looked down and saw it was very high, I bit my lips, "Well done, idiot! How am I going to get down from here..."

Deciding it was best to jump toward the grass, I took a deep breath, gripped the bars tightly with both hands, separated my back from the wall, and dangled my body down from the gate. Hoping nothing would happen to my legs, I released my hands and closed my eyes. When I opened my eyes, I was standing on both legs. Taking a deep breath, I moved a few steps away from the gate. "Oh well, it wasn't that bad."

I moved away from the iron gate, bypassed the front door of the house, and headed to the back. When I saw that the door opening from the veranda to the living room was ajar, I thanked God that I wouldn't have to break the glass or find another way. After glancing around and making sure there was nothing strange, I came to the door, opened it a bit more, and entered silently. Since the wall on this side of the living room was glass from top to bottom, the inside was considered bright enough; for now, I was just holding the flashlight in my palm without turning it on.

The living room was still as messy as it was in the photos; in fact, I could say everything was everywhere. Since Mahir lived alone anyway, I didn't think his house was normally tidy; he had gone to the other side with the same mess, and clearly no one had come to his house to clean up after him.

In front of the fireplace stood a dirty glass and an empty alcohol bottle; I knew this was the whiskey Mahir always drank. There was no smell of alcohol in the environment at all; clearly, when he died two days ago, he was drinking that last, and since the bottle had been open since that day, the smell had long since dissipated.

I moved away from the fireplace, walked toward the door side, and stood at the point where the picture we saw in the Mahzen was taken. According to the picture, the body was lying at the point right in front of me before it was removed. Bending my knees, I crouched down and looked at the room from the exact camera angle. I looked, and looked, and looked... I stayed like that and looked for a while, and looked once more by bending even more. Accounting for the margin of error, I also looked from the right and left sides, but there was no perfume or anything in the room. The perfume, which was standing on the console right in front of me in the photo frame, was not at the crime scene where not even a speck of dust had been touched.

Straightening up, I took a troubled breath; I didn't want to decide without searching every place thoroughly. Just as I turned around to also check the consoles positioned on both sides of the door behind me, instead of seeing the door, I came face to face with a tall dark shadow; thinking my end had come, I put my hand to my heart and tried to take a step back, but my feet got tangled out of fear, and I found myself on the floor. While trying to pull back the hair that came over my face, I was also pushing myself back.

When the breath I took got stuck in my throat without reaching my lungs, I lifted my head in pain; at that moment, I saw that the dark shadow standing in front of me was still in the same place. Trusting this, when I lifted my head, my expression changed. I knew the person in front of me, but he still carried the possibility of being my end.

When he took a step toward me, I flinched and tried to go back, but my back hit the sofa. He continued coming at me as if he liked that I couldn't escape. When he raised his hand, I closed my eyes in fear. But for a few seconds, there was no movement. When I opened my eyes cautiously, I saw that he was extending his hand to me. "Don't stall, take it." When I saw that his other hand was also empty, I took the hand he extended. Before I even had a chance to lift my hips, when he pulled my arm, I had difficulty maintaining my balance. The fact that my knees were trembling from fear also had an effect on this. While leaning my hip against the arm of the sofa behind me, I was waiting to see what he would do, unable to say anything as if my tongue were tied.

He furrowed his brows, "What are you doing here?" he asked in his harsh voice. I swallowed but couldn't answer. "Answer me!" he roared; I realized he was standing too close; I wanted to throw myself onto the sofa behind me to get away and run out of this house. Still, I answered so he wouldn't shout once more.

"I came to look," I said. "At what?" he asked, but he knew perfectly well. "The perfume, at the perfume." When he didn't answer and continued looking by clenching his jaw, I couldn't help but ask, "You came for it too, didn't you?" He again didn't answer. When I realized he wouldn't kill me and that we were just here at the same time by coincidence, I pushed him by his arm, got out from where I was squeezed between him and the sofa, and took a deep breath. "I understood from your look," I said in reference to his silence.

He approached me again and fixed his eyes on mine, "Don't ever wander around underfoot again! Go sit in your house," he said when he finally moved away. "Russian bear," I muttered while looking at him. He lifted his head and looked this time, "Excuse me?" he said with a threatening expression. I wanted to tell him that he had literally kicked me out and that he should look people in the face when talking to them, but his blue eyes were looking so terrifying that I feared he would kill me even though he hadn't come here for that purpose.

"I was going," I said, heading toward the door I had entered through. I was still wondering if the perfume was around here somewhere, but I didn't want to stay here with him; anyway, we were going to have a meeting at the Mahzen again tomorrow; if he found something, he would say it there.

"Use the door like a man; everywhere is open," he said, and I stopped. Had he seen me while I was climbing? Rolling my eyes, I turned to the front door and pushed the handle down; it was indeed open. I turned and looked at him one last time; he was waiting for me to leave. I went out the door and reached the garden gate with fast steps and, when I tried to open it, saw that it wasn't locked. After going out, I slammed the gate shut and started walking to where I left my car without feeling the need to hide; whoever was going to see had already seen anyway.

When I got into my car, I took the car key from my pocket, took off the vest, and threw it onto the passenger seat. I couldn't believe I got caught! That annoying guy wouldn't leave me alone.

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"No, I don't understand these men; what did they find in one night that they called people to a meeting again?" Kaya was again asking himself questions and waiting for answers, but I had no answer to give him; I didn't really know either. I only had a guess. Kaya couldn't stand my staying silent, "Say something," he continued pestering. "I'm fed up with you! You've been asking ridiculous questions ever since you learned to speak!" Since no one expected me to explode like that, everyone in the garden suddenly turned to me. Kaya pulled my arm and leaned toward my face, "Why are you shouting like that in front of everyone?" he said, clenching his teeth.

"I'm sorry, but you're not scary at all when you're angry." Truly, after what I saw last night, I couldn't easily find anyone's angry state scary. I left Kaya's side and went inside; I was already cold outside. When I sat in my chair, I closed my eyes, leaned my neck against the top of the chair, and started waiting. After a while, two people entered; one sat across from me while one sat next to me. The one who sat next to me was Kaya; the one across from me must have been Pusat. I deliberately didn't open my eyes.

"Why is this man looking at you like he's going to kill you?" With the strange sound I heard, I opened my eyes and looked at Kaya without letting them touch Pusat. He was trying to talk with his teeth clenched like that. "What are you talking about, I don't understand?" I said, turning my chair toward him and looking at his face with uncomprehending eyes. He continued talking without separating his teeth in the same way, "I'm talking about the one across; why is he looking at you like that?" I knew perfectly well that the one across was Pusat, and I wasn't surprised at all that he was looking at me like he was going to kill me. He was probably still looking the way he looked last night.

Like Kaya, I pressed my teeth together and spoke, "Maybe he's the killer trying to kill us all?" I said, opening my eyes wide. I was probably looking scary. Kaya also opened his eyes wide at what he heard and turned forward smiling, gave Pusat a nod of greeting, and began giving his attention everywhere except Pusat. Idiot, he had made it obvious we were talking about him. Pusat really was going to kill me on the way out now.

Kaya leaned toward me and whispered, "Valo has arrived." And buttoning his front, he stood up, greeted Valnikov, and sat back down; everyone looked at him trying to make sense of it, but he didn't care. I suppose he was trying to escape the killer by sucking up or something. Kaya was truly a strange man.

After seeing Kaya, Valnikov turned forward, saying "HasbinAllah" even though he wasn't Muslim. "We owe this quick gathering to Pusat. He went to Hasan's and Mahir's houses last night and conducted an investigation." When Valnikov signaled for him to continue, Pusat cleared his throat and took over the floor, "First of all, unfortunately, there are no concrete clues in either of their houses. The killer worked cleanly. But the perfume bottles I drew attention to yesterday—or rather, the bottle. Despite the fact that they appear very clearly in the photos and the crime scenes were never touched, there is no perfume to be found."

"Our killer is a woman," he said, turning to me. I furrowed my brows but didn't say anything; he turned back to Valnikov and continued. "This can only be the signature of a woman. We are looking for a woman who hates the Mahzen and the Table." Valnikov nodded slowly, "The underground is full of women now; I'm not surprised at all," he said. But they were the ones who brought their daughters as heirs to the underground; sometimes women didn't even leave their sons as heirs.

Orya hated Valnikov's sexist talk. "In that case, let the sovereignty of the chairs change too; only leave your sons as heirs?" she said, tapping her nails on the table while turning to Valnikov. She knew they couldn't do this; if that happened, those whose lineage didn't produce a male would bring strangers to the Mahzen, thus disrupting the structure of the Table. Valnikov averted his narrowed eyes; he couldn't say anything.

When a clicking sound came from the farthest corner of the table, he looked that way; Zikri had struck his cane on the floor before speaking, as he always did. "It seems that soon neither heirs nor sovereignty will matter," he said, his hand trembling on top of the cane. Zikri Balta was older than everyone here; he was the oldest member, and I think he didn't care for the new members, even Valnikov.

"If you're not going to be able to see it, it won't matter to you anyway, old man; you're right." The one who said this was my uncle; it was clear where Kaya got these ridiculous questions and tactless talk from. When Zikri slowly lifted his head and looked at my uncle, I saw my uncle straighten his spine in fear but try not to show it; he was both afraid and picking fights with people. I suppose if it weren't for my father, they would have long since thrown him out by the scruff of his neck, which in the underground meant meeting one's Maker.

My father gave my uncle a look of disapproval and again diverted the subject to save him, "So, ladies and gentlemen? What are we doing in the final situation?" A silence formed for a while; the fear of death had gripped everyone. While they all had their heads bowed or their eyes lost in the distance thinking, I felt a pair of eyes on me and lifted my head. As soon as I lifted it, I came eye to eye with Pusat. His eyes were looking as if he wanted to tear me to pieces; I didn't understand why, I had just gone to look at Mahir's house like he did. Why did this interest and bother him so much?

"I will take care of this matter." With Valnikov's voice, I took my eyes off Pusat and looked at him; he had stood up. When he left the hall, everyone continued sitting in their places; some hadn't even noticed. But I quickly took my bag and jacket and stood up. I had left the hall in a few seconds, but before I could reach the side where the exit door was in the corridor, I had heard footsteps behind me, and before long, someone had gripped my arm firmly above the elbow and pulled my body backward. I knew this pull; again, I had difficulty maintaining my balance.

I looked into his face with anger and tried to pull my arm away, "What do you think you're doing?" Instead of letting go of my arm, he gripped it more tightly, pulled me a bit closer to himself, and leaned toward my face, "What were you doing there last night?" he said with the same eerie expression.

"None of your business!" Because I forgot where we were and shouted, I looked around; fortunately, no one was visible. In a slightly lower voice, "I don't know what you're trying to do, but you're wasting your time," I said, looking into his eyes.

Closing his eyes, he approached a bit more, laughed as if mocking, and pulled back a bit, "Or was the perfume your signature?"

This time I pulled my arm more sharply and managed to escape his hand. "Do you think I didn't notice you've been saying 'female killer' since morning? Maybe you're trying to shift the target." When I said this, he shook his head with the same mocking smile. "Don't dream, beautiful; I don't sign with perfume."

While continuing to look into his eyes, many things were coming to my mind to say, but I didn't want to pour out everything I thought; I had already spoken enough. "Me neither," I said, nodding my head. Pouting his lower lip, he nodded and moved out of my way.

"Don't cross my path again, Pusat Demirhan; let this be the last time I say your name." As I passed him and moved away, I heard him call out from behind me,

"Not Pusat Demirhan, though, it's Pusat Demir Han!"

"A lot that changes!" I called out without turning back. The last thing I heard before going out the door was his saying, "It better."

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