Night Watch

Prologue

The escalator crept along slowly, straining upward. In an old station like this, what else could you expect? But the wind swirled like a wild thing inside the concrete pipe—ruffling his hair, tugging the hood off his head, sneaking under his scarf, pressing him downward.

The wind didn't want Egor to go up.

The wind was pushing him to go back.

Strange, but no one else seemed to notice the wind. There was hardly anyone around—by midnight the station was already emptying. Only a few people riding down toward Egor and hardly anyone on the escalator beside him either. One person ahead of him, two or three behind. That was it.

Except, of course, for that wind.

Egor stuck his hands in his pockets and turned to look back. For a couple of minutes already, from the moment he'd stepped out of the train, he'd had the feeling of being watched. It wasn't a frightening kind of feeling at all; it felt fascinating, a sudden, pricking sensation.

Down at the bottom of the escalator was a tall man in uniform. Not police, a soldier. Then there was a woman with a sleepy little child, clutching her hand. And another man, young, wearing a bright orange jacket, with a Walkman. He looked just about dead on his feet as well.

Nothing suspicious. Not even for a boy going home too late. Egor looked up again, to where a policeman was lounging against the gleaming handrails, dejectedly trying to spot some easy prey in this sparse stream of passengers.

Nothing to be afraid of.

The wind gave Egor one last nudge and suddenly dropped away, apparently resigned to the pointlessness of the struggle. The boy glanced back once more and started running up the moving steps as they flattened under his feet. He had to hurry. He didn't know why, but he had to. Again he felt that pricking sensation of senseless anxiety, and a cold shudder ran through his body.

It was the wind again.

Egor slipped out through the half-opened doors and the piercing cold attacked him with renewed fury. His hair, still wet from the pool—the dryer was broken again—was instantly stiff with ice. Egor pulled the hood farther forward over his head, darted past the vendor kiosks without stopping, and hurried into the underpass. Up on the surface there were far more people, but the feeling of alarm was still there. He glanced behind him now, without slowing down, but there was no one following him. The woman with the small child was walking toward a streetcar stop; the man with the Walkman had stopped in front of a kiosk, studying the bottles; the soldier still hadn't come out of the subway.

The boy walked faster and faster through the underpass. There was music coming from somewhere, so quiet he could hardly hear it, but incredibly soothing. The delicate trilling of a flute, the strumming of guitar strings, the chiming of a xylophone. The music was calling to him, telling him to hurry. Egor dodged past a group of people hurrying in the opposite direction, overtook a happy little drunk who was barely staggering. All his thoughts seemed to have been blown out of his head; he was almost running now.

The music was calling.

And now there were words weaving themselves into it… not clear yet, still too quiet to make out, but just as alluring. Egor bounded out of the underpass and stopped for a moment, gulping in the cold air. A trolley was just rolling up to the stop. He could ride just one stop, almost all the way to his house…

The boy set off toward the trolley, walking slowly, as if his legs had suddenly become numb. The trolley stood there for a few seconds with its doors open; then the hinged flaps swung together and it moved away from the stop. Egor watched it go with dull, glazed eyes; the music was getting louder all the time, filling the whole world, from the semi-circular lobby of the high-rise hotel to the «box on stilts»—his own house—that he could see not far away. The music was prompting him to walk along the wide, brightly lit avenue, where there were still plenty of people around at this hour. The entrance to his house was only five minutes away.

But the music was even closer…

When Egor had walked about a hundred meters, the hotel suddenly stopped sheltering him from the wind. The icy blast stung his face, nearly drowning out the melody that was calling to him. The boy began to stagger, almost coming to a halt. The enchantment was shattered, but the feeling of being watched was back, this time with a strong undercurrent of fear. He glanced back. There was another trolley approaching the stop. And he caught a glimpse of an orange jacket in the light of the street-lamps. The man who had ridden up the escalator with him was walking behind him, with his eyes still half-closed in the same way, but he moved with surprising speed and purpose, as if he could see Egor.

The boy started to run.

The music resumed louder than ever, breaking through the curtain of wind. He could already make out the words… he could, but he didn't want to.

He should walk along the avenue, past the shops that were closed but still brightly lit, alongside the late-nighters on the sidewalk, in full view of the cars rushing by.

But Egor turned into an alleyway, to where the music was calling him.

It was almost completely dark in there; the only moving things were two shadows by the wall. Egor seemed to see them through a dense haze, as if they were lit up by some ghastly bluish glow: a young man and a young woman, very lightly dressed, as if the night air were not twenty degrees below zero.

The music rose to a final, crashing, triumphant chord; then it stopped. The boy felt his body go limp. He was covered in sweat; his legs were giving way; he wanted to sit down on the slippery, ice-covered sidewalk.

«A pretty one…« the girl said in a quiet voice. She had a thin face, with sunken cheeks and a pale complexion. Only her eyes seemed to be alive: black, huge, magnetic.

«You can leave… just a little bit…« the young man said with a smile. They were as alike as brother and sister, not in their features, but in some indefinable quality that they shared, as if their faces were covered by dusty, semi-transparent gauze.

«For you?» For an instant the girl turned her gaze away from Egor. The numbness eased slightly and terror flooded his mind. The boy opened his mouth, but his eyes met the young man's and he couldn't shout, as if he were suddenly wrapped in some cold, elastic membrane.

«Yes. You hold him!»

The girl gave a mocking snort. Turning her gaze back to Egor, she stretched out her lips as if she were blowing a kiss. In a quiet voice she pronounced those familiar words, the ones that had been woven into the alluring music.

«Come, come… come to me…«

Egor stood there without moving. He had no strength to run away, despite all the horror, despite the scream that had burst out of his lungs and stuck in his throat. But at least he could simply stand there.

A woman walked past the end of the alley with two massive German shepherds on leashes. Walking in slow motion, as if she were moving under water, as if she were part of his terrible dream. Out of the corner of his eye, Egor saw the dogs turn sharply toward the alley, tugging at their leashes, and for a moment an insane hope flared in his soul. The German shepherds started growling uncertainly, with a mixture of loathing and fear. The woman stopped for a moment and glanced suspiciously into the alley. Egor caught her glance—indifferent, as if she were looking into empty space.

«Come on!» She tugged at their leashes, and the dogs gladly returned to her side.

The young man laughed quietly.

The woman with the dogs quickened her step and disappeared from view.

«He's not coming to me!» the girl exclaimed. «Look, will you, look, he's not coming!»

«Try harder,» the young man said curtly. He frowned. «Learn.»

«Come! Come to me!» the girl said, emphasizing each word. Egor was standing only two meters away, but it seemed to be important to her for him to cross that gap himself.

Then Egor realized that he had no more strength to resist. The girl's gaze held him, binding him with an invisible elastic tether; the words summoned him and he could not help himself. He knew that he must not move, but still he took a step forward. The girl smiled, and her white, even teeth flashed. She said:

«Take off your scarf.»

He couldn't hold out any longer. His hands trembled as he threw back his hood and pulled off his scarf without unwinding it. He stepped toward those alluring black eyes.

Something was happening to the girl's face. Her lower jaw was stretching down, her teeth were moving, curving. He saw the flash of long fangs that were not human.

Egor took another step.

Chapter 1

The night got off to a bad start.

It was barely even dark when I woke up. I just lay there, watching the final gleams of daylight fading away in the cracks of the blinds, thinking things over. This was the fifth night of the hunt—and there was still nothing to show for it. And I wasn't likely to get lucky tonight either.

It was cold in the apartment; the radiators gave off hardly any heat at all. The only thing I like about winter is that it gets dark quickly, so there aren't many people out on the streets. If not for that, I'd have dropped the whole business ages ago and left Moscow for someplace like Yalta or Sochi. It would have to be the Black Sea, not some faraway island in a warm foreign ocean: I like to hear the sound of my own native language around me…

Stupid dreams, of course.

It's still too soon for me to be thinking of retiring to somewhere a bit warmer.

I haven't earned it yet.

The telephone must have been waiting for me to wake up—it started trilling in that loathsome, nagging way it has. I fumbled for the receiver and held it to my ear—quietly, without saying a word.

«Anton, answer.»

I didn't say anything. Larissa's voice was brisk and focused, but already tired. She obviously hadn't slept all day long.

«Anton, shall I put you through to the boss?»

«No, don't do that,» I growled.

«That's more like it. Are you awake?»

«Yes.»

«It's the same again for you today.»

«Anything new happen?»

«No, not a thing. Have you got anything for breakfast?»

«I'll find something.»

«Okay. Good luck.»

It sounded feeble and unconvincing. Larissa didn't have any faith in me. No doubt the boss didn't either.

«Thanks,» I said to the dial tone. I got up and made the trip to the toilet and the bathroom. I was just about to spread toothpaste on the brush when I realized I was getting ahead of myself and put it back down on the edge of the sink.

It was completely dark in the kitchen, but of course I didn't bother turning on the light. I opened the door of the refrigerator—the small light bulb I'd screwed out of its socket lay there freezing with the food. I looked at the saucepan with the colander sitting on top of it. Lying in the colander was a lump of half-defrosted meat. I lifted out the colander, raised the saucepan to my lips, and took a gulp.

If anyone thinks pig's blood tastes good, then he's wrong.

I put the saucepan with the remains of the thawed-out blood back in the refrigerator and walked through to the bathroom. The dull blue lamp hardly lightened the darkness at all. I took a long time cleaning my teeth, brushing furiously, then I gave in, made another trip to the kitchen and took a gulp of icy vodka from the refrigerator. Now my stomach didn't just feel warm, it felt hot. A wonderful set of sensations: frost on my teeth and fire in my stomach.

«I hope you…« I started thinking, about the boss, but I caught myself just in time. He was quite capable of sensing even a half-formed curse. I went through into my room and started gathering together the clothing scattered all over the place. I discovered my pants under the bed, my socks on the windowsill, and for some reason my shirt was hanging on the mask of Chkhoen.

The ancient king of Korea eyed me disapprovingly.

«Why can't you just watch over me?» I growled, and then the phone started screeching again. I hopped around the room until I found the receiver.

«Anton, was there something you wanted to say to me?» the disembodied voice asked.

«Not a thing,» I said sullenly.

«I see. Now add 'glad to serve, your honor' to that.»

«I'm not glad. And there's nothing to be done about it… your honor.»

The boss paused for a moment:

«Anton, I really would like you to take this situation we have on our hands a bit more seriously. All right? I expect you to report back in the morning, in any case. And… good luck.»

I didn't exactly feel ashamed. But I wasn't feeling quite so irritated anymore. I put my cell phone in my jacket pocket, opened the cupboard in the hallway, and wondered for a while what else I ought to pack. I had a few novel items of equipment that some friends had given me the previous week. But I settled on the usual selection anyway—it's fairly compact and gives pretty good all-round coverage.

Plus the mini-disc Walkman. I don't need my sense of hearing for anything, and boredom is an implacable enemy.

Before I went out I took a long look at the staircase through the spy-hole. Nobody there.

And that was the beginning of one more night.

I rode the metro for about six hours, switching aimlessly from line to line without any plan, sometimes dozing, letting my conscious mind take a break and my senses roam free. There was nothing going down. Well, I did see a few interesting things, but they were all ordinary incidents, tame beginners' stuff. It wasn't until about eleven, when the metro got less crowded, that the situation changed.

I was sitting there with my eyes closed, listening to Manfredini's Fifth Symphony for the third time that evening. The mini-disc in the player was totally eccentric; my personal selection, medieval Italian composers and Bach alternating with the rock group Alisa, Richie Blackmore, and Picnic. It's always interesting to see which melody coincides with which event. Today it was Manfredini.

I felt this sudden cramp—it ran all the way up from my toes to the back of my head. I even hissed as I opened my eyes and scanned the subway car.

I picked the woman out right away.

Very pretty, young. In a stylish fur coat, with a little purse and a book in her hands. And with a black vortex spinning above her head like I hadn't seen for at least three years!

I imagine I looked crazy, staring at her like that. The girl sensed it, took one look at me, back at me, and immediately turned away.

Try looking over your head instead!

No, of course, she's not able to see the twister anyway. The most she could possibly feel is a slight prickling of alarm. And out of the corner of her eye she can't get any more than the vaguest glimpse of that flickering above her head… like a swarm of midges swirling round and round, like the shimmering above the asphalt on a hot day…

She can't see a thing. Not a thing. And she'll go on living for another day or two, until she misses her step on the black ice, falls, and bangs her head so hard it kills her. Or ends up under a car. Or runs into a thug's knife in the hallway… a thug who has no real idea why he's killing this girl. And everyone will say: «She was so young, with her whole life ahead of her; everybody loved her…«

Yes. Of course. I believe it, she's a very good person, kind. There's weariness there, but no bitterness or spite. When you're with a girl like that you feel like a different person. You try to be better, and that's a strain. Men prefer to be friends with her kind, flirt a bit, share confidences. They don't often fall in love with girls like that, but everybody loves them.

Apart from one certain person, someone who has hired a Dark Magician.

A black vortex is actually a fairly ordinary phenomenon. If I looked closely, I could make out another five or six of them hanging above other passengers' heads. But they were all blurred and pale, barely even spinning. The results of perfectly ordinary, non-professional curses. Someone yelling after someone else: «I hope you die, you bastard.» Someone had put it more simply and forcefully: «Go to hell, will you!» And a little black whirlwind had moved across from the Dark Side, draining good fortune and sucking in energy.

But an ordinary, amateurish, formless curse lasts no more than an hour or two, twenty-four hours at most. And its consequences may be unpleasant, but they're not fatal. That black twister hanging over the girl was the genuine article, stabilized and set in motion by an experienced magician. The girl didn't know it yet, but she was already dead.

I automatically reached for my pocket, then remembered where I was and frowned. Why don't cell phones work in the subway? Don't the people who have them ride underground?

Now I was torn between my principal assignment, which I had to carry through, even without any hope of success, and the doomed girl. I didn't know if she could still be helped, but I had to track down whoever had created this vortex…

Just at that moment I got a second jolt. But this time it was different. There was no cramp or pain; my throat just went dry and my gums went numb, the blood started pounding in my temples, and my fingertips started itching.

This was it!

But the timing couldn't have been worse.

I got up—the train was already braking as it pulled into a station. I walked past the girl and felt her eyes on me, following me. She was afraid. There was no way she could see the black vortex, but it was obviously making her feel anxious, making her pay close attention to the people around her.

Maybe that was why she was still alive?

Trying not to look in her direction, I lowered my hand into my pocket and fingered the amulet—a smooth rod carved out of cool onyx. I hesitated for a moment, trying to come up with some other course of action.

No, there was no other way.

I squeezed the amulet tight in the palm of my hand, feeling a prickly sensation in my fingers as the stone started warming up, giving out its accumulated energy. The sensation was no illusion, but you can't measure this heat with any thermometer. It felt like I was squeezing a coal taken out of a fire… it was covered with cold ash, but still red hot at the center.

When I'd drained the amulet completely, I glanced at the girl. The black twister was shuddering, leaning over slightly in my direction. This vortex was so powerful that it even possessed a rudimentary intelligence.

I struck.

If there'd been any Others in the carriage, or even anywhere in the train, they'd have seen a blinding flash that could pierce metal or concrete with equal ease…

I'd never tried striking at a black vortex with such a complex structure before. And I'd never used an amulet with such a powerful charge.

The effect was totally unexpected. The feeble curses hanging over other people's heads were completely swept away. An elderly woman who'd been rubbing her forehead looked at her hand in amazement: Her vicious migraine had suddenly disappeared. A young guy who'd been gazing dully out the window shuddered. His face relaxed and the look of hopeless misery disappeared from his eyes.

The black vortex above the girl was tossed back five meters; it even slipped halfway out of the carriage. But it maintained its structure and came zigzagging back through the air to its victim.

This was real power!

With real perseverance!

They say, though I've never actually seen it myself, that if a vortex is pushed even two or three meters away from its victim, it gets disoriented and attaches itself to the nearest person it can find. That's a pretty lousy thing to happen to anyone, but at least a curse meant for someone else has a much weaker effect, and the new victim has a good chance of escaping.

But this vortex just came straight back, like a faithful dog running to its master in trouble.

The train was stopping. I threw one last glance at the vortex—it was back in place, hanging there above the young woman's head; it had even started spinning faster… and there was nothing, absolutely nothing I could do about it. The target I'd been hunting all over Moscow for a week was somewhere close, right here in the station. My boss would have eaten me alive… and maybe not just in the figurative sense…

When the doors parted with a hiss, I gave the woman a final glance, hastily memorizing her aura. There wasn't much chance of ever finding her again in this massive city. But even so, I would have to try.

Only not right now.

I jumped out of the carriage and looked around. It was true, I was a bit short of field-work experience; the boss is absolutely right about that. But I didn't like the method he'd chosen for training me at all.

How in hell's name was I supposed to find the target?

Not one of the people I could see with my normal vision looked even slightly suspicious. There were plenty of them still jostling each other here—it was the circle line, after all, the Kursk station; there were passengers who'd just arrived on the main line, street traders making their way home, people in a hurry to change trains and ride out to the suburbs… But if I closed my eyes I could observe a more fascinating picture. Pale auras, the way they usually are by evening, and in among them the bright scarlet blob of fury, the strident orange glow of a couple obviously in a rush to get to bed, the washed-out, brownish-gray stripes of the disintegrating auras of the drunks.

But there wasn't a single trace of the target, apart from the dryness in my throat, the itching in my gums, the insane pounding of my heart. The faint taste of blood on my lips. A mounting sense of excitement.

The signs were all circumstantial, but at the same time they were too obvious to be ignored.

Who was it? Who?

The train started moving behind me. The feeling that the target was near didn't get any weaker, so we had to be still close to each other. The train going in the opposite direction appeared. I felt the target tremble and start moving toward it.

Forward!

I crossed the platform, weaving between the new arrivals staring up at the indicator boards, then set off toward the back of the train—and my sense of the target began to get weaker. I ran toward the front of the train—there it was again… closer…

It was like that children's game: First I was «cold,» then I was «hot.»

The people were boarding the cars. I ran along the train, feeling the sticky saliva filling up my mouth, my teeth starting to ache, my fingers starting to cramp up… The music was roaring in my earphones.

In the shadow of the moon

She danced in the starlight,

Whispering a haunting tune

To the night…

How appropriate. The song was absolutely perfect.

But it was a bad omen.

I jumped in through the closing doors and froze, concentrating on what I could feel. Had I guessed right or wrong? I still couldn't get a visual fix on the target…

I'd guessed right.

The train hurtled on around the circle line. My instincts were raging, shouting at me: «Right here! Beside you!»

Maybe I'd even got the right car?

I gave my fellow passengers a surreptitious looking-over and dropped the idea. There was no one there worth taking any interest in.

I'd just have to wait, then…

Feel no sorrow, feel no pain,

Feel no hurt, there's nothing gained…

Only love will then remain,

She would say.

At Marx Prospect I sensed my target moving away from me. I jumped from the car and set off toward the other line. Right here, somewhere right beside me…

At the radial line station the feeling of the target became almost unbearably strong. I'd already picked out a few likely prospects: two girls, a young guy, a boy. They were all potential targets, but which one of them was it?

My four candidates got into the same car. That was a stroke of luck at last. I followed them in and waited.

One girl got out at Rizhskaya station.

The feeling of the target didn't get any weaker.

The young guy got out at Alekseevskaya.

Great. Was it the girl or the boy? Which one of them?

I risked a stealthy glance at both. The girl was plump and pink-cheeked; she was absorbed in reading her MK newspaper, showing no signs of any kind of agitation. The boy, in contrast, was skinny and frail, standing by the door and tracing his finger across the glass.

In my opinion the girl was a lot more… tempting. Two to one it was her.

But then, in judgments like that the question of sex decides pretty much everything.

I'd already begun hearing the Call. Still not verbalized yet, just a slow, gentle melody. I immediately stopped hearing the sound from the earphones. The Call easily drowned out the music.

Neither the girl nor the boy showed any signs of alarm. The target either had a very high threshold of resistance or had simply succumbed right away.

The train stopped at Exhibition. The boy took his hand away from the glass, stepped out onto the platform, and strode off rapidly toward the old exit. The girl stayed.

Damn!

They were both still too close to me. I couldn't tell which one I was sensing!

And then the melody of the Call soared triumphantly and words began insinuating themselves into it.

A female voice!

I jumped out through the closing doors and hurried after the boy.

Great. The hunt was nearing its end at last.

But how was I going to handle things with no charge in my amulet? I didn't have a clue.

Only a few people had got off the train, and there were four of us riding the escalator up. The boy at the front, a woman with a small child behind him, then me, followed by an aging, seedy-looking army colonel. The colonel's aura was beautiful, a glittering mass of steel-gray and light-blue tones. I thought with weary humor that I could call on him to help. Even these days people like that still believe in the idea of «officer's honor.»

Except that any help I could get from the colonel would be about as much use as a fly swatter in an elephant hunt.

I dropped the stupid idea and took another look at the boy, with my eyes closed, scanning his aura.

The result was disheartening.

He was surrounded by a shimmering, semi-transparent glow. Sometimes it was tinged with red, sometimes it was flooded with a dense green, and sometimes it flared up in dark blue tones.

It was a rare case. A destiny still undefined. Undifferentiated potential. This boy could grow up to be a great villain, he could become a good and just person, or he could turn out to be a nobody, an empty space, which is actually what most people in the world are anyway. It was all still ahead of him, as they say. Auras like that are normal for children up to the age of two or three, but they disappear almost completely as people get older.

Now I could see why he was the one the Call was addressed to. There was no denying it—he was a real delicacy.

I felt my mouth starting to fill up with saliva.

This had all been going on for too long, far too long… I looked at the boy, at the thin neck under his scarf, and I cursed my boss and the traditions, and the rituals—everything that went to make up my job. My gums itched; my throat was parched.

Blood has a bitter, salty taste, but this thirst can't be quenched by anything else.

Damn!

The boy hopped off the escalator, ran across the lobby, and out through the glass doors. Just for a moment I felt relieved. I slowed down as I followed him out, and just caught his movement out of the corner of my eye as he ducked down into an underpass. He was already running, physically pulled by the lure of the Call.

Faster!

I ran over to a kiosk and said, trying not to show my teeth:

«The stuff for six rubles, with the ring.»

The young guy with a pimply face handed me the quarter-liter bottle with a slow, sluggish movement—like he'd been taking a drop to keep warm on the job. He warned me honestly.

«It's not great vodka. Not gut-rot, of course, it's Dorokhov, but, you know…«

«Got to look after my health, anyway,» I rapped. The vodka was obviously fake, but right now that was okay by me. With one hand I tore off the cap with the wire ring attached to it, and with the other I took out my cell phone and switched it to repeat dial. The young salesman's eyes popped out of his head; not many people who can afford a cellular would buy a cheap surrogate vodka. I took a swallow as I walked along—the vodka stank like kerosene and tasted even worse; it was obviously boot-leg liquor, bottled in the back of someone's garage—and ran to the underpass.

«Hello.»

Larissa wasn't there anymore. Pavel's usually on duty at night.

«This is Anton. It's somewhere near the Cosmos hotel, in the back alleys. I'm in pursuit.»

«You want the team?» The voice was beginning to sound interested.

«Yes. I've already discharged the amulet.»

«What happened?»

A street bum bedded down halfway along the underpass reached out a hand as if he were hoping I'd gave him the bottle I'd just started. I ran on past.

«Something else came up… Make it quick, Pavel.»

«The guys are already on their way.»

I suddenly felt as if a red-hot wire had been stuck through my jaws. Ah, hell and damnation…

«Pasha, I can't answer for myself,» I said quickly and broke off contact. I pulled up short, facing a police patrol.

Isn't that always the way? Why do the human guardians of law and order always turn up at the most inappropriate moment?

«Sergeant Kampinsky,» a young policeman announced briskly. «Your papers…«

I wondered what they were planning to pin on me. Being drunk in a public place? That was probably it.

I put my hand into my pocket and touched the amulet. Just barely warm. But this wouldn't take a lot.

«I'm not here,» I said.

The four eyes that had been probing me in anticipation of easy pickings went blank as the last spark of reason in them died.

«You're not here,» both of them echoed in chorus.

There was no time to program them. I blurted out the first thing that came into my head:

«Buy some vodka and take a break. Immediately. Quick march!»

The order clearly fell on fertile ground. The policemen linked arms like kids out looking for fun and dashed off along the underpass toward the vending kiosks. I felt vaguely uncomfortable, picturing the consequences of my instructions, but there was no time to put things right.

I bounded up out of the underpass, certain I was already too late. But oddly enough, the boy still hadn't got very far. He was just standing there, swaying slightly, about a hundred meters away. That was serious resistance. The Call was so loud now, it seemed strange to me that the occasional passersby walking down the street didn't launch into a dance, that the trolleys didn't swing off the main avenue, forcing their way down along the alley toward their sweet fate…

The boy glanced around. I thought he looked at me. Then he set off, walking quickly.

That was it, he'd broken.

I followed him, frantically trying to decide what I was going to do. I ought to wait for the team—it would take them only ten minutes to get here, at most.

But that might not turn out so good—for the boy.

Pity's a dangerous thing. I gave way to it twice that day. The first time in the metro, when I spent the charge of the amulet in a fruitless attempt to displace the black vortex. And now the second time, when I set out after the boy.

Many years ago someone told me something that I flatly refused to accept. And I still don't accept it now, despite all the times I've seen it proved right.

«The common good and the individual good rarely coincide…«

Sure, I know. It's true.

But some truths are probably worse than lies.

I started running toward the Call. What I heard was probably not what the boy did. For him the Call was an alluring, enchanting melody, sapping his will and his strength. For me it was just the opposite, an alarm call stirring my blood.

Stirring up my blood…

The body I'd been treating so badly all week was rebelling. I was thirsty, but not for water—I could quite safely slake my thirst with the dirty city snow without doing myself any harm. And not for strong drink either—I had that bottle of lousy vodka with me and even that wouldn't do me any damage. What I wanted was blood.

Not pig's blood, or cow's blood, but real human blood. Curse this hunt…

«You have to go through this,» the boss had said. «Five years in the analytical department's a bit too long, don't you think?» I don't know, maybe it is a bit too long, but I like it. And after all, the boss himself hasn't worked out in the field for more than a hundred years now. I ran past the bright shop windows with their displays of fake Gzhel ceramics and stage-set heaps of food. There were cars rushing past me along the avenue, a few pedestrians. That was all fake too, an illusion, just one facet of the world, the only one accessible to human beings. I was glad I wasn't one of them.

Without breaking my rapid stride, I summoned the Twilight.

The world sighed as it opened up. It was as if airport searchlights had suddenly come on behind me, casting a long, thin, sharp shadow. The shadow swirled up, acquiring volume; the shadow was drawing me into itself—into a dimension where there are no shadows. The shadow detached itself from the dirty asphalt surface, swirling and swaying like a column of heavy smoke. The shadow was running ahead of me…

Quickening my stride, I broke through the gray silhouette into the Twilight. The colors of the world dimmed and the cars on the avenue slowed, as if they were suddenly bogged down.

I was getting close to my goal.

As I dodged into the alleyway, I thought I would just catch the final scene. The boy's motionless, ravaged body, drained dry, the vampires disappearing.

But I wasn't too late after all.

The boy was standing in front of a girl-vampire who had already extended her fangs, slowly taking off his scarf. He was probably not afraid now—the Call completely numbs the conscious mind. More likely he was longing to feel the touch of those sharp, gleaming fangs.

There was a young male vampire standing beside them. I sensed immediately that he was the leader of the pair: He was the one who was initiating her, he was introducing her to the scent of blood. And the most sickening thing about it was that he had a Moscow registration tag. What a bastard!

But then, that only improved my chances…

The vampires turned toward me in confusion, not understanding what was going on. The boy was in their Twilight, I shouldn't have been able to see him… or them either.

Then the male vampire's face began to relax, he even smiled—a calm, friendly smile.

«Hi there…«

He'd taken me for one of his own. And he could hardly be blamed for his mistake: I really was one of them now. Almost. The week of preparation had not been wasted: I had begun to sense them… but I'd almost gone over to the Dark Side myself.

«Night Watch,» I said. I held my hand out, holding the amulet. It was discharged, but that's not so easy to sense at a distance. «Leave the Twilight!»

The young guy would probably have obeyed me, hoping that I didn't know about the trail of blood he'd left behind him, that the whole business could just be classified as «an attempt at unauthorized interaction with a human being.» But the girl lacked his self-control; she didn't understand.

«A-a-a-agh!» She threw herself at me with a long, drawn-out howl. It was a good thing she still hadn't sunk her teeth into the boy; she was out of her mind now, like a desperate junkie who's just stuck a needle in his vein only to have it jerked back out again, like a nymphomaniac after her man pulled out just a moment before orgasm.

Her lunge would have been too fast for any human being; no one could have parried it.

But I was in the same dimension of reality as the girl-vampire.

I threw up my arm and splashed the liquid out of the open bottle into the hideously transformed face.

Why do vampires tolerate alcohol so poorly?

The menacing scream changed to a shrill squeal. The girl-vampire began whirling around on the spot, beating her hands against her face as it shed layers of skin and grayish flesh. The male vampire swung round, all set to dart away.

This was going too easily altogether. A registered vampire isn't some casual visitor I have to fight on equal terms. I threw the bottle at the girl-vampire, reached out my hand and grabbed hold of the cord of his registration tag, which had unraveled on command. The vampire gave a hoarse croak and clutched at his throat.

«Leave the Twilight!» I shouted.

I think he realized things were looking really bad now. He flung himself toward me, trying to reduce the pressure from the cord, extending his fangs and transforming as he came.

If the amulet had been fully charged, I could have simply stunned him.

As it was, I had to kill him.

The tag—a seal on the vampire's chest that gave off a faint blue glow—made a crunching sound when I gave the silent order. The energy implanted in it by someone with far more skill than me flooded into the dead body. The vampire was still running. He was well-fed and strong; other people's lives were still nourishing his dead flesh. But he couldn't possibly resist such a powerful blow: His skin shriveled until it was stretched as taut as parchment over his bones; slime gushed out of his eye sockets. Then his spine shattered and the twitching remains collapsed at my feet.

I swung around—the girl-vampire could have regenerated already. But there was no danger. She was running away across the yard between the buildings, taking huge bounds. She still hadn't left the Twilight, so I was the only one who could see this astounding sight. Apart from the dogs, of course. Somewhere off to one side a small canine broke into hysterical barking, trans-fixed simultaneously by hatred and fear and all the other feelings that dogs have felt for the living dead since time immemorial.

I didn't have enough strength left to chase the vampire. I straightened up and captured a 3-D image of her aura—gray, desiccated, rotten. We'd find her. There was nowhere she could hide now.

But where was the boy?

After he emerged from the Twilight created by the vampires, he could have fainted or fallen into a trance. But he wasn't in the alley. He couldn't have run past me… I bounded out of the alley into the yard and saw him. He was bolting, moving almost as fast as the vampire. Well, good for him! That was wonderful. No help required. It was bad that he would remember everything that had happened, but then who would believe a young boy? And before morning all his memories would fade and assume the less menacing features of a fantastic nightmare.

Or should I really go after the little guy?

«Anton!»

It was Igor and Garik, our inseparable duo of operatives, running down the alley from the avenue.

«The girl got away!» I shouted.

Garik kicked out at the vampire's shriveled corpse as he ran, sending a cloud of rotten dust flying up into the frosty air. He shouted:

«The image!»

I sent him the image of the girl-vampire running away. Garik frowned and started moving faster. Both operatives dashed off in pursuit. Igor shouted as he ran:

«Clear up the trash!»

I nodded, as if they needed an answer, and emerged from my own Twilight. The world blossomed. The operatives' silhouettes melted away, and their invisible feet even stopped leaving tracks in the snow lying in the human dimension of reality.

I sighed and walked over to their gray Volvo parked at the curb. There were a few primitive implements lying on the backseat: a heavy-duty plastic bag, a shovel, and a small sweeping brush. It took me about five minutes to scrape up the vampire's feather-light remains and put the bag in the trunk. I took some dirty snow from a decaying heap left by a careless yard-keeper, scattered it in the alley, and trampled it a bit, working the final dusty, rotten remains into the slush. No human burial for you, you're not human…

That was all.

I went back to the car, got into the driver's seat, and unbuttoned my jacket. I felt good, very good, in fact. The senior vampire was dead, the guys would pick up his girlfriend, and the boy was alive.

I could just imagine how delighted the boss would be!

Chapter 2

«Sloppy work!»

I tried to say something, but the next remark stung like a slap to the cheek and shut me up.

«You screwed up!»

«But…«

«Do you at least understand your own mistakes?»

The boss had cooled off a bit, and I took the risk of raising my eyes from the floor and saying cautiously:

«It seems to me…«

I like being in that office. It stirs the kid in me to see all those amusing little trinkets standing on the shelves in the bulletproof glass cupboards, hanging all over the walls, tossed carelessly on the desk, jumbled up with the computer floppies and business papers. Every item there—from the old Japanese fan to the jagged piece of metal with a deer welded onto it, the symbol of some auto plant—had its own history. If you were lucky and the boss was in the mood you could hear some very, very interesting stories.

Only I don't seem to find him in that kind of mood too often.

«Okay.» The boss stopped striding round the office, sat down in a leather armchair, and lit up. «Let's hear it.»

His voice had turned businesslike, matching his appearance. To the human eye he looked about forty years old, and he belonged to that narrow circle of businessmen that the government likes to rely on so much.

«What do you want to hear?» I asked, at the risk of provoking yet another impartial assessment.

«The mistakes. Your mistakes.»

Right then… Okay.

«My first mistake, Boris Ignatievich,» I said with a perfectly innocent air, «was that I failed to understand the nature of the mission correctly.»

«Oh, really?» the boss replied.

«Well, I assumed my goal was to track down a vampire who had begun actively hunting in Moscow. To track him down and… er… neutralize him.»

«Go on, go on…« the boss encouraged me.

«In actual fact the basic purpose of the mission was to determine my suitability for operational activity, for field work. Starting with my incorrect understanding of the mission, that is, following the principle 'separate and protect'…«

The boss sighed and nodded. Anyone who didn't know him too well might even have thought he was ashamed.

«And did you contravene this principle in any way?»

«No, and that's why I botched the mission.»

«How did you botch it?»

«Right at the beginning…« I squinted sideways at a stuffed white polar owl standing on a shelf behind the glass. Had it really moved its head? «Right at the beginning I drained the amulet in a futile attempt to neutralize a black vortex…«

Boris Ignatievich frowned. He brushed his hair back with his hand.

«Okay, let's start with that. I've studied the image, and if you haven't touched it up…«

I shook my head indignantly.

«I believe you. Well, a vortex like that can't be removed with an amulet. Do you remember the classification?»

Damn! Why hadn't I flicked through my old notes?

«I'm sure you don't. But it doesn't matter. There is no class for this vortex. There's no way you could possibly have dealt with it…« The boss leaned over across the desk and continued in a mysterious whisper: «… and you know what…«

I was all ears.

«There's no way I could have either, Anton.»

This confession was unexpected, and I couldn't think of anything to say. Maybe no one had ever actually said out loud that the boss could do anything, but that was what everyone who worked in the office believed.

«Anton, a vortex as strong as that can be removed only by the person who created it.»

«We have to find him…« I said uncertainly. «I feel sorry for the girl…«

«This isn't about her. Not just about her.»

«Why?» I blurted out and then hastily corrected myself. «We have to stop the Dark Magician, don't we?»

The boss sighed.

«He might have a license. He might be entitled to cast the curse… This isn't even about the magician. A black vortex as powerful as that… You remember the plane that crashed last winter?»

I shuddered. We had not done anything wrong, but there was a loophole in the law: A pilot who was under a curse had lost control, and his airliner had crashed into a residential area of the city. Hundreds of perfectly innocent lives…

«Vortices like that can't act selectively. The girl's doomed, but it won't just be a brick that accidentally falls off some roof onto her head. More likely a building will explode, there'll be an epidemic, or someone will drop an atom bomb on Moscow by mistake. That's the real problem, Anton.»

The boss suddenly swung around and cast a withering glance at the owl. It folded its wings away quickly and the gleam in its glass eyes faded.

«Boris Ignatievich,» I said, horrified. «I'm at fault…«

«Of course you are. There's only one redeeming fact, Anton.» The boss cleared his throat. «When you gave way to pity, you acted quite correctly. The amulet couldn't completely detach the vortex, but it has postponed the Inferno for a while. And now we have a day to work with… maybe even two. I've always believed that ill-considered but well-intentioned actions do more good than actions that are well-considered but cruel. If you hadn't used the amulet, half of Moscow would already be lying in ruins.»

«What are we going to do?»

«Look for the girl. Protect her… as well as we can. We'll be able to destabilize the vortex again once or twice. And in the meantime we'll have to find the magician who cast the curse and make him remove the vortex.»

I nodded.

«Everybody will be involved in the search,» the boss said casually. «I've recalled all the guys from vacation, Ilya will be back from Ceylon by morning and the others will be here by lunch. The weather's bad in Europe. I've asked our colleagues in the European office to help, but by the time they can disperse the clouds…«

«By morning?» I asked, glancing at my watch. «Another whole day.»

«No, this morning,» the boss replied, as if unaware of the midday sunshine outside the window. «You'll be searching too. Perhaps you'll get lucky again… Shall we continue with our analysis of your mistakes?»

«Can we afford to waste the time?» I asked timidly.

«Don't worry; it won't be wasted.» The boss got up, walked over to the glass cupboard, took out the owl, and set it down on the desk. From close up you could see it really was a stuffed bird, with no more life in it than a fur collar… «Let's move on to the vampires and their victim.»

«I lost the girl-vampire. And the guys didn't catch her,» I confirmed penitently.

«No complaints there. You fought worthily enough. The point is—the victim…«

«Sure, the boy kept his memories. But he took off so fast…«

«Anton! Wake up! They hooked the boy with the Call from a distance of several kilometers! When he walked into that alley he ought to have been a helpless puppet! And when the Twilight disappeared, he ought to have fainted! Anton, if he was still able to move after everything that had happened—he possesses superb magical potential!»

The boss paused.

«I'm an idiot.»

«No, but you have been sitting on your backside in the lab far too long. Anton, this boy is potentially more powerful than I am!»

«Oh, come on…«

«Drop the flattery…«

The telephone on the desk rang. It was obviously something urgent; not many people know the boss's direct number. I don't.

«Quiet!» the boss snapped at the innocent phone. It stopped. «Anton, you have to find that young boy. The girl-vampire who got away is not dangerous in herself. Either our guys will find her or an ordinary patrol will pick her up. But if she drinks the boy's blood or, even worse, initiates him… You've no idea what a full-fledged vampire's like. These modern ones are mere mosquitoes compared with some Nosferatu. And with all the airs he put on, he still wasn't one of the best… So the boy must be found, examined, and, if possible, taken into the Watch. We have no right to let him go over to the Dark Side; the balance of power in Moscow would totally collapse.»

«Is that an order?»

«Given under license,» the boss said darkly. «I have the right to issue that kind of order, you know that.»

«Yes, I know,» I said quietly. «But where do I begin? That is, which one do I begin with?»

«Whoever you like. I'd say with the girl. But try to find the boy too.»

«Shall I go now?»

«Catch up on your sleep first.»

«I slept long enough, Boris Ignatievich…«

«I doubt it. I'd recommend an hour at least.»

I didn't understand. I'd got up at eleven and dashed straight to the office. I felt perfectly fresh and full of energy.

«Here's someone to help you.» The boss flicked the stuffed owl with his finger. The bird stretched out its wings and started screeching indignantly.

I swallowed hard and risked a question:

«Who is it? Or what is it?»

«Why do you need to know?» asked the boss, looking into the owl's eyes.

«To decide whether I want to work with it!»

The owl glared at me and hissed like an enraged cat.

«That's the wrong way of putting it,» said the boss, shaking his head. «Will she agree to work with you, that's the real question.»

The owl started screeching again.

«Yes,» said the boss, talking to the bird now, not to me. «There's a lot of truth in what you say. But who was it that requested a new appeal?»

The bird froze.

«I promise I'll intercede for you. And this time there is a chance.»

«Boris Ignatievich, in my opinion…« I began.

«I'm sorry, Anton, that doesn't bother me…« The boss stretched out his arm; the owl took a clumsy stride with its fluffy legs and stood on his open hand. «You don't know just how lucky you are.»

I didn't answer that. The boss went across to the window, opened it wide, and stuck his hand out. The owl flapped its wings and went hurtling downward, moving really well for a stuffed dummy.

«Where has… it… gone?»

«To your place. You'll be working as partners…« The boss rubbed the bridge of his nose. «Oh yes! Don't forget, her name's Olga.»

«The owl?»

«The owl. Feed her and take care of her and everything will be fine. And now… get a bit of sleep. No need to come into the office when you get up; wait for Olga to arrive and get on with the job. Check out the circle line in the metro, for instance…«

«How can I get back to sleep…« I began. But the world around me was already turning dim, fading away, dissolving. The corner of a pillow jutted painfully into my cheek.

I was lying in my own bed.

My head felt heavy; my eyes were full of sand. My throat felt parched and painful.

«Agh…« I gasped hoarsely, turning over onto my back. Through the heavy curtains I couldn't see whether it was still night or the day was well advanced. I squinted at the clock: The glowing figures showed eight.

It was the first time I'd been granted an audience with the boss in my sleep.

It's not a very pleasant business, especially for the boss—he must have broken through into my mind.

Time must really be short if he'd decided it was necessary to hold his briefing in the world of dreams. And it had all seemed much more real than I would have expected. The mission analysis, that stupid owl…

The sound of tapping on the window made me start. A rapid, gentle tapping that sounded like claws. I heard a muffled screeching.

But what else was I really expecting?

I jumped up, adjusted my shorts awkwardly, and hurried across to the window. All the garbage that I'd swallowed as part of the preparation for the hunt was still affecting me, and I could distinguish the outlines of objects quite clearly.

I tore the curtains aside and raised the blind.

The owl was sitting on the windowsill, screwing up its eyes—indeed, the sun was already up and the light was too bright for it. From down in the street, of course, it would have been hard to tell what kind of bird had landed on the tenth-floor window. But if the neighbors had happened to glance out, they'd have got a real surprise. A polar owl in the center of Moscow…

«What the hell…« I grunted.

I felt like being more specific. But that was a habit they'd cured me of when I first started working in the Watch. Or rather, I'd cured myself. Once you've seen a couple of Dark twisters above the heads of people you've sworn at, you soon learn to hold your tongue.

The owl was looking at me, waiting.

All the birds nearby went wild. A swarm of sparrows sitting in a tree not far away started chirping crazily. The crows were a bit bolder. They settled on the next-door balcony and the nearest trees and started squawking, every now and then launching off from the branches and circling near the window. Their instincts told them this surprising new neighbor meant trouble.

But the owl didn't react at all. She didn't give a damn about the sparrows, or the crows.

«Just who are you?» I muttered as I threw open the window, ripping off the paper strips glued over the cracks. The boss had really saddled me with this new partner…

The owl flapped its wings once and flew into the room. It landed on the wardrobe and closed its eyes, as though it had always lived here. Maybe it got cold on the way over? But then again, it was a polar owl…

I started closing the window, trying to think what to do now. How would I communicate with her, what would I feed her, and how, in God's name, could this feathered creature possibly help me?

«Is your name Olga?» I asked, when I'd finished with the window. There was a draft from the cracks now, but I could fix that later. «Hey, bird!»

The owl half-opened one eye, taking no more notice of me than of the fussy, chattering sparrows.

I was feeling more awkward with every moment. In the first place I had a partner I couldn't even talk to. And in the second place my partner was a woman!

Even if she were an owl.

Maybe I ought to put my pants on? I wasn't really awake yet, standing there in just my crumpled shorts, I hadn't shaved…

Feeling like a total idiot, I grabbed my clothes and dashed out of the room. I muttered to the owl, «Excuse me, I'll just be a moment.»

If this bird really were what I thought it was, I couldn't have made the best of impressions.

What I really wanted was to take a shower, but I couldn't afford to waste that much time. I made do with a shave and sticking my buzzing head under the cold faucet. On the little shelf, between the shampoo and the deodorant, I found some eau de cologne, which I don't normally use.

«Olga?» I called as I stuck my head out into the corridor.

I found the owl in the kitchen, on the refrigerator. Just sitting there looking dead, like a stuffed dummy stuck up there as a joke. Almost the way it had looked on the boss's shelves.

«Are you alive?» I asked.

One amber-yellow eye peered at me.

«All right,» I said, spreading my hands. «Why don't we start from the beginning? I realize I haven't made a very good impression. And I'll be honest about it, I do that all the time.»

The owl was listening.

«I don't know who you are,» I said, straddling a stool and facing the refrigerator. «And you can't tell me either. But I can introduce myself. My name's Anton. Five years ago I discovered that I was one of the Others.»

The owl made a sound that was more like a muffled laugh than anything else.

«Yes,» I agreed. «Only five years ago. That was just the way things went. I had a very high level of resistance. I didn't want to see the Twilight world. So I didn't, until the boss found me.»

The owl seemed to be getting interested.

«He was doing a practical exercise, briefing agents on how to identify secret Others. When he came across me…« I laughed as I remembered. «He broke through my resistance, of course. After that it was very simple… I did the adaptation course and started working in the analytical section… Nothing much really changed in my life. I became one of the Others, but I didn't notice any big difference in my life. The boss wasn't too pleased, but he didn't say anything. I was good at my job, and he had no right to interfere in anything else. But a week ago this vampire maniac turned up in town, and they gave me the job of neutralizing him. Supposedly because all the agents were busy. But really to get me out there in the firing line. Maybe they were right. But during the week another three people were killed. A professional would have caught that vampire duo in a day…«

I really wanted to know what Olga thought about all this. But the owl didn't make a sound.

«What's more important for maintaining the balance?» I asked anyway. «Giving me some operational experience or saving the lives of three innocent people?»

The owl said nothing.

«I couldn't sense the vampires with the usual methods,» I went on. «I had to attune myself to them. I didn't drink human blood though, I made do with pig's blood. And all those drugs… but then, you know all about those anyway…«

When I mentioned the drugs, I got up, opened the little cupboard above the stove, and took out a glass jar with a tight-fitting ground-glass stopper. There was only a little bit of the lumpy brown powder left; it made no sense to hand it back in to the department. I tipped the powder into the sink and rinsed it away—the kitchen was filled with a pungent, dizzying odor. I rinsed out the jar and dropped it into the garbage pail.

«I almost went over the edge,» I said. «I was well on the way. Yesterday morning, on my way back from the hunt… I ran into the little girl from next door. I didn't even dare say hello; my fangs had already sprouted. And last night, when I felt the Call summoning the boy… I almost joined the vampires.»

The owl was looking into my eyes.

«Why do you think the boss gave me the job?»

A stuffed dummy. Clumps of dusty feathers stuffed with cotton wool.

«So I could see things through their eyes?»

The doorbell rang in the hallway. I sighed and shrugged: It was her own fault, after all; anyone would be better to talk to than this boring bird. I flipped the light on as I walked to the door and opened it.

Standing there in the doorway was a vampire.

«Come in, Kostya,» I said, «come in.»

He hesitated at the door, but then came in. He ran his hand through his hair—I noticed that his palms were sweaty and his eyes were restless.

Kostya was only seventeen. He was born a vampire, a perfectly ordinary city vampire. It's really tough: With vampire parents a child has almost no chance of growing up human.

«I've brought back the CDs,» Kostya muttered. «Here.»

I took the pile of compact discs from the boy, not surprised there were so many. I usually had to nag him for ages to bring them back: He was terribly absentminded.

«Did you listen to them all?» I asked. «Did you copy any?»

«Well, um… I'll be going…«

«Wait.» I grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him into the room. «What's going on?»

He didn't answer.

«You already know?» I asked, beginning to catch on.

«There aren't many of us, Anton,» said Kostya, looking me in the eye. «When one of us passes away, we sense it immediately.»

«Okay. Take your shoes off; let's go into the kitchen and have a serious talk.»

Kostya didn't argue. But I was desperately trying to figure out what to do. Five years earlier, when I became an Other and the Twilight side of the world was revealed to me, I'd made plenty of surprising discoveries. And one of the most shocking was the fact that a family of vampires was living right over my head.

I remember it clearly. I was on my way home from classes that seemed so ordinary, they reminded me of my old college. Three double class periods, a lecturer, heat that glued the white coats to our bodies—we rented the lecture hall from a medical college. I was fooling around as I walked home, dropping into the Twilight in short bursts—I couldn't manage it for any longer back then. Then I began feeling out the people walking down the street, and at the entrance I ran into my neighbors.

They're really nice people. I wanted to borrow a drill from them once, and Kostya's father, Gennady, a contractor, just came around and had some fun helping out with the concrete walls, demonstrating conclusively that the intelligentsia can't survive without the proletariat…

And now suddenly I could see they weren't human beings at all.

It was terrifying. The brownish-gray auras, the hideous pressure. I stopped dead, staring at them in horror. Polina, Kostya's mother, looked surprised; the boy froze and turned his face away. But the head of the family walked toward me, moving deeper into the Twilight as he came, walking with the elegant stride that only vampires, alive and dead at the same time, have. The Twilight is their natural habitat.

«Hello, Anton,» he said.

The world around me was gray and dead. I'd dived into the Twilight after him without even noticing it.

«I knew you'd cross the barrier some day,» he said. «Everything's okay.»

I took a step back—and Gennady's face quivered.

«Everything's okay,» he said. He opened his shirt and I saw the registration tag, a blue imprint on the gray skin. «We're all registered. Polina! Kostya!»

His wife also crossed into the Twilight and unfastened her blouse. The boy didn't move, and it took a stern glance from his father to get him to show his blue seal.

«I have to check,» I whispered. My passes were clumsy; I lost track twice and had to start again. Finally the seal responded. Permanent registration, no known violations…

«Is everything okay?» asked Gennady. «Can we go now?»

«Don't worry about it. We knew you'd become an Other someday.»

«Go on,» I said. It was against the rules, but that was the last thing I was bothered about.

«Yes…« Gennady paused for a moment before he left the Twilight. «I've been in your home… Anton, I return to you your invitation to enter…«

Everything was just as it should be.

They walked away, and I sat down on a bench, beside an old granny warming herself in the sunshine. I lit a cigarette, trying to sort out my thoughts. The granny looked at me and said:

«Nice people, aren't they, Arkasha?»

She was always getting my name wrong. She only had two or three months left to live, I could see that quite clearly now.

«Not exactly…« I said. I smoked three cigarettes, then trudged off into the house. I stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the gray «vampire's trail» fade away. I'd just learned how to see it that very day…

I moped into the evening. I leafed through my notes, which meant I had to withdraw into the Twilight. For the ordinary world, the pages of those standard exercise books were a pure, unsullied white. I wanted to call our group's supervisor or the boss himself—I was his personal responsibility. But I felt I had to make the decision myself.

When it was dark already I couldn't stand it any longer. I went up to the next floor and rang the bell. When Kostya opened the door, he shuddered. But he actually looked perfectly ordinary, like all of his family…

«Call your folks, will you,» I asked.

«What for?» he muttered.

«I want to invite you all for tea.»

Gennady appeared behind his son's back, appeared out of nowhere; he was far more skillful than me, the newly fledged adept of the Light.

«Are you sure, Anton?» he asked doubtfully. «There's no need. Everything's okay.»

«I'm sure.»

He paused and then shrugged.

«We'll come around tomorrow. If you invite us. Don't rush things.»

By midnight I was feeling absolutely delighted they'd refused. At three I tried to get to sleep, reassured in the knowledge that they couldn't enter my home and never would be able to.

In the morning, still not having slept a wink, I stood at the window, looking out at the city. There weren't many vampires. Very few, in fact. There wasn't another within a radius of two or three kilometers.

How did it feel to be an outcast? To be punished, not for committing a crime, but for the potential ability to commit it? And how did it feel for them to live… well, not live, some other word was required here… alongside their own guard?

On the way back from classes I bought a cake for tea.

And now here was Kostya, a fine, intelligent young man, a student at the physics faculty of Moscow University, who had the misfortune to have been born a living corpse, sitting beside me and raking the spoon around in the sugar bowl like he was too shy to take any. What could have made him so bashful?

At first he used to come around almost every day. I was his direct opposite; I was on the side of the Light. But I let him into my home, and he didn't have to pretend with me. He could simply sit and talk, or he could plunge into the Twilight and boast about the new abilities he'd developed. «Anton, I actually transformed!»—«And now my fangs have started to grow, r-r-r-r!»

And the strange thing was, it was all quite normal. I laughed as I watched the young vampire's attempts to transform himself into a bat—that's a trick for a top-flight vampire, but he's not one of them and, may the Light grant, he never will be. Just sometimes I would scold him: «Kostya… you mustn't ever do that. Do you understand?» And that was quite normal too.

«Kostya, I was doing my job.»

«You shouldn't have.»

«They were breaking the law. Do you understand? Not just our law, mind you. It's not just the Light Ones who have accepted it, all the Others have. That young guy…«

«I knew him,» Kostya suddenly said. «He was fun to be around.»

Damn.

«Did he suffer?»

«No.» I shook my head. «The seal kills instantaneously.»

Kostya shuddered and squinted down at his own chest for a second. If you enter the Twilight, you can see the seal even through a vampire's clothes, and if you don't, you'll never find it. I don't think he actually moved across. But how should I know what the seal feels like to a vampire?

«What was I supposed to do?» I asked. «He'd already killed. Killed entirely innocent people, who had absolutely no defenses against him. He initiated a girl… by crude force; she should never have become a vampire. Yesterday he almost killed a boy. Just for the sake of it. Not because he was hungry.»

«Do you know what our hunger's like?» Kostya asked after a pause.

He was growing up. Right in front of my eyes…

«Yes. Yesterday I… almost became a vampire.»

Just a moment's silence.

«I know. I could feel it… I was hoping.»

Hell and damnation! While I was conducting my hunt, they'd been hunting me too. Or rather, lying in ambush for me, hoping the hunter would turn into the hunted beast.

«No,» I said. «Sorry, no way.»

«Okay, so he was guilty,» Kostya went on stubbornly. «But why did you have to kill him? He should have been tried. A tribunal, an attorney, a proper charge, the way the law says things should be done…«

«The law says that human beings must not be involved in our business!» I roared. And for the first time that tone of voice failed to make any impression on Kostya.

«You were a human being for too long!»

«And I don't regret it for a moment!»

«Why did you kill him?»

«If I hadn't, he would have killed me!»

«Initiated you!»

«That's even worse!»

Kostya didn't answer that. He put down his tea and stood up. A perfectly ordinary, rather insolent, and morally pained young man.

Except that he was a vampire.

«Wait.» I stepped across to the refrigerator. «Take this; they issued it to me, but I didn't need it.»

I pulled out the two-hundred-gram bottles of donor's blood from between the bottles of Borzhomi mineral water.

«No thanks.»

«Kostya, I know this is a constant problem for you. It's of no use to me. Take it.»

«Are you trying to bribe me?»

I started getting angry.

«Why would I need to bribe you? It's just stupid to throw it out, that's all. It's blood. People gave it to help someone.»

Kostya suddenly laughed. He reached out, took one of the bottles, and opened it, tearing off the tinfoil cap with practiced ease. He raised the bottle to his lips, laughed again, and took a swallow.

I'd never seen them feed. And never really wanted to.

«Stop that,» I said. «Don't be ridiculous.»

Kostya's lips were covered with blood, and there was a fine trickle of it running down his neck. Not just running down, but soaking into the skin.

«Do you find the way we feed ourselves disagreeable?»

«Yes.»

«So you find me disagreeable as well? All of us?»

I shook my head. We'd never talked about this before. It had been easier that way.

«Kostya, in order to live, you need blood. And, sometimes at least, human blood.»

«We don't live.»

«I meant in the more general sense. In order to move, think, speak, dream.»

«What do you care about a vampire's dreams?»

«Listen, son. There are plenty of people living in the world who need regular blood transfusions. There are at least as many of them as there are of you. And then there are all the emergencies. That's why people give blood, that's why it's such an honorable and respected thing to do… I know about your kind's contributions to the development of medicine and the way you promoted the giving of blood. Kostya, if someone needs blood in order to live… to exist—that's no big deal. And whether it goes in through the veins or the stomach is irrelevant too. The important thing is how you get hold of it.»

«Empty words,» Kostya snorted. I got the feeling he'd crossed over into the Twilight for an instant and then popped straight back out. The boy was growing up, all right. And he was getting really strong.

«You showed the way you really feel about us yesterday.»

«You're wrong.»

«Ah, drop it…« He put the bottle down, then changed his mind and turned it upside down over the sink. «We don't need your…«

I heard a hoot behind me and swung around. I'd completely forgotten about the owl, but now it had turned its head toward Kostya and spread its wings.

«Agh…« he said. «Agh…«

The owl folded its wings and closed its eyes.

«Olga, we're talking,» I growled. «Just give us a moment…«

The bird didn't respond. Kostya glanced from me to the owl and back again. Then he sat down and folded his hands on his knees.

«What's wrong with you?» I asked.

«Can I go now?»

He wasn't just surprised or frightened; he was in shock.

«Okay. But take this, will you…«

Kostya began hastily grabbing up the bottles and putting them in his pockets.

«Take a plastic bag, you idiot! What if there's someone in the hallway?»

The vampire obediently packed all the bottles into a plastic bag bearing the noble inscription «For the resurrection of Russian culture!» He gave the owl a sideways glance, went out into the hallway, and began hastily putting on his shoes.

«Come around again,» I said. «I'm not your enemy. Not until you cross that line, I'm not.»

He nodded and shot out of my apartment like a bullet. I shrugged and closed the door, then went back into the kitchen and looked at the owl.

«Well? What happened there?»

It was impossible to read anything in those amber-yellow eyes. I threw my hands up.

«How can we work together? Eh? How are we going to collaborate? Do you have any way of communicating? I'm trying to be frank with you, do you hear me? A frank conversation!»

I didn't shift all the way into the Twilight, just reached in there with my thoughts. It's not good to trust anyone you don't know like that, but the boss wouldn't have given me a partner I couldn't trust, would he?

No answer. Even if Olga could communicate telepathically, she wasn't going to.

«What shall we do? We need to look for that girl. Will you accept her image?»

No reply. I sighed and tossed the scrap of my memory at the bird anyway.

The owl stretched its wings and soared across onto my shoulder.

«Ah, so we do hear when we're spoken to? But we don't condescend to reply. All right, have it your own way. What shall I do?»

She still wouldn't speak.

In fact, I knew what to do. There was no hope of success, but that was a different matter.

«And how am I going to wander around the streets with you sitting on my shoulder?»

A mocking glance, definitely mocking. And the bird on my shoulder shifted into the Twilight.

So that was it. An invisible observer. And no ordinary observer—Kostya's reaction to the owl had been very instructive. Apparently I'd been given a partner that the powers of Darkness knew better than the rank-and-file servants of the Light did.

«Agreed,» I said cheerfully. «I'll just grab a bite to eat, okay?»

I took out some yogurt and poured a glass of orange juice. The very thought of what I'd been feeding myself with for the last week—half-raw steaks and meat juices that were not much different from blood—made me feel sick.

«Maybe you'd like a bit of meat?»

The owl turned away.

«Have it your own way,» I said. «No doubt when you get hungry you'll find some way to communicate.»

Chapter 3

I like walking around town inside the twilight. You don't actually become invisible, or you'd have people bumping into you all the time. They just somehow look straight through you and don't notice you. But this time I'd have to work out in the open.

The day's not our time. Funny as it may seem, the adherents of the Light work at night, when the Dark Ones become active. Just at the moment there wasn't too much the Dark Ones could do. During the daytime vampires, werewolves, and Dark Magicians are obliged to live like ordinary people.

Most of them, that is.

I was walking around the Tulskaya metro station. Following the boss's advice, I'd worked through all the stations on the circle line where the girl with the black Inferno vortex could possibly have left the metro. She should have left a trail behind, a weak one maybe, but still detectable. Now I'd decided to work my way out along the radial lines.

It was a stupid station in a stupid district, with two exits set quite a distance apart from each other. A market, the pompous-looking skyscraper occupied by the tax police, a massive apartment block. With all those dark emanations all around, any chance of picking up the trail of the black vortex was looking pretty doubtful.

Especially if it had never even been there.

I walked around everything, trying to sniff out the girl's aura, sometimes glancing into the Twilight at the invisible bird nestling on my shoulder. The owl was dozing. It couldn't sense anything either, and for some reason I felt certain its reconnaissance skills were better than mine.

Once a militiaman checked my papers. Twice I was pestered by crazy young guys who wanted to give me, absolutely free—that is, for only fifty bucks—a Chinese fan, a child's toy, and a dirt-cheap Korean telephone.

And again I couldn't control myself. I brushed aside the next sidewalk salesman who pestered me and performed a remoralization. Only a slight one, right on the very edge of what's allowed. Maybe the young guy would start looking for a different kind of work. Or maybe he wouldn't…

But that very instant someone grabbed hold of my elbows. One minute there was no one there—then the next suddenly there was a young couple: an attractive-looking young woman with red hair and a solid-looking guy with a surly expression on his face.

«Hold it,» said the girl. She was the leader, I could tell that right away. «Day Watch.»

Light and Darkness!

I shrugged and looked at them.

«Give your name,» the girl demanded.

There was no point in lying; they'd captured the image of my aura already, and after that, identifying the individual is only a matter of time.

«Anton Gorodetsky.»

They waited.

«Other,» I confessed. «Night Watch agent.»

They lifted their hands off my elbows, and even took a step back. But they didn't seem disappointed.

«Okay, let's enter the Twilight,» said the guy.

They didn't look like vampires. That was one good thing. At least I could hope for a certain degree of objectivity. I sighed and shifted from one reality into another.

The first surprise was that the couple turned out to be genuinely young. A witch about twenty-five years old and a warlock about thirty, roughly my age. I thought that if I needed to, I could probably even recall their names; there weren't that many witches and warlocks born in the late seventies.

The second surprise was that the owl wasn't there on my shoulder. Or rather, she was: I could feel her claws and I could see her, but only with a bit of an effort. It was as if the bird had shifted realities at the same time as I had and moved into a deeper level of the Twilight.

This was getting really interesting!

«Day Watch,» the girl repeated. «Alisa Donnikova, Other.»

«Pyotr Nesterov, Other,» the young guy muttered.

«You have some kind of problem?»

The girl drilled me with one of those specialty «witch's glances.» She started looking even more delightful and beguiling with every moment. Of course, I'm protected against direct influence; it's not possible to bewitch me, but it certainly was impressive.

«We're not the ones with the problem. Anton Gorodetsky, you have entered into unsanctioned contact with a human being.»

«Yes? And what was that?»

«Only a seventh-degree intervention,» the witch admitted reluctantly. «But a fact is a fact. And you also urged him toward the Light.»

«Are we going to draw up a charge report?» I suddenly found the entire situation amusing. Seventh degree was next to nothing—a level of influence on the borderline between magic and ordinary conversation.

«We are.»

«And what are we going to write? A Night Watch agent slightly increased one human being's aversion to deception?»

«Thereby disrupting the established balance,» the warlock rapped out.

«Really? And what harm does it do to the Darkness? If the guy stops working as a petty crook, his life is bound to get worse. He'll be more moral, but more unhappy too. Under the terms of the commentaries to the treaty on the balance of power, that's not regarded as a violation of the balance.»

«Sophistry,» the young woman said curtly. «You're a Night Watch agent. What might be pardonable for an ordinary Other is not acceptable from you.»

She was right. It was still a violation, even if it was petty.

«He was obstructing me. I have the right to use magical intervention in the course of conducting an investigation.»

«Are you on duty, Anton?»

«Yes.»

«Why during the day?»

«I have a special assignment. You can direct your inquiry to my superiors. Or rather, you have the right to address your inquiry to your superiors.»

The witch and the warlock exchanged glances. No matter how opposed our goals and our moralities might be, the two hierarchies had to collaborate.

Only, to be quite frank about it, nobody really likes to get the bosses involved.

«Very well,» the witch agreed reluctantly. «Anton, we can limit ourselves to a verbal warning.»

I looked around. All around me there were people moving slowly through the gray gloom. Ordinary people, incapable of moving out of their own little world. We were Others, and though I stood on the side of Light and the other two were on the side of Darkness, we had far more in common with each other than with any of those ordinary human beings.

«On what terms?»

You must never try to second-guess the Darkness. You must never make any concessions. And it's even more dangerous to accept any gifts from it. But rules are made only in order to be broken.

«No terms.»

Well, that was a surprise!

I looked at Alisa, trying to figure out the catch in what she'd said. Pyotr was obviously indignant at his partner's behavior; he was angry, he wanted to expose an adept of the Light as a criminal. That meant I didn't have to worry about him.

Where was the trap?

«That's not acceptable to me,» I said, with a sigh of relief—I'd spotted the catch. «Alisa, thank you for your offer of a peaceful resolution. I can accept it, but in a similar situation I promise to forgive you a minor magical intervention, up to and including the seventh degree.»

«Very well, Other,» Alisa agreed readily. She held out her hand and I automatically shook it. «We have a personal agreement.»

The owl on my shoulder flapped its wings. There was a furious screech right in my ear. And a moment later the bird materialized in the Twilight world.

Alisa took a step back and the pupils of her eyes rapidly extended into vertical slits. The young warlock took up a defensive posture.

«We have an agreement,» the witch repeated sullenly.

What was going on?

I realized too late that I shouldn't have entered into an agreement with Olga there. But then—what was so terrible about what had happened? As if I hadn't been there when other guys from the Watch had concluded alliances like this, made concessions, agreed to terms for cooperating with the Dark Ones; even the boss himself had done it! Sure, it's undesirable, but sometimes you have to do it!

Our goal is not to exterminate the Dark Ones. Our goal is to maintain the balance. The Dark Ones will disappear only when human beings conquer the Evil in themselves. Or we'll disappear, if they decide they like the Darkness better than the Light.

«The agreement's been made,» I told the owl. «Cool it. It's no big deal. Just standard collaboration.»

Alisa smiled and gave me a wave. She took the warlock by the elbow, and they moved away. A couple of moments later they were out of the Twilight and setting off along the sidewalk. An ordinary young couple.

«What's eating you?» I asked. «Well? Field work has always been built on compromises!»

«You made a mistake.»

Olga's voice was strange; it didn't match her appearance. It was soft, velvety, musical. The way werecats talk, not birds.

«Oho! So you can talk now?»

«Yes.»

«Then why didn't you say anything before?»

«Everything was okay before.»

I laughed, remembering the old joke about the child who didn't speak for years.

«I'll leave the Twilight, okay? And meanwhile you can explain what mistake I've made. Minor compromises with the Dark Ones ate inevitable in this line of work.»

«You're not well-enough qualified to make compromises.»

The world around me turned colored. It was like switching modes in a video camera, when you change from «sepia» or «old movie» to the standard view. The comparison is really quite apt in some ways: The Twilight is an «old movie,» a really old one that humankind has managed to forget. It finds it easier to live that way.

I set off toward the steps down into the metro, snarling to my invisible companion on the way:

«And just what have qualifications got to do with it?»

«A high-ranking Watch member is able to foresee the consequences of a compromise. Whether it's no more than just a minor bilateral trade-off and the effects will be self-neutralizing, or a trap, a trick—and you'll lose out.»

«I doubt if a seventh-grade intervention's likely to lead to disaster!»

A man walking along beside me glanced at me in surprise. I was just about to tell him something like: «I'm harmless, the non-violent kind of psycho.» It's a great way of curing excessive curiosity. But the man had already sped up; he must have come to a similar conclusion himself.

«Anton, you can't anticipate the consequences. You over-reacted to a minor annoyance. Your little piece of magic led to intervention by the Dark Ones. You agreed to a compromise with them. But the saddest thing of all is that there was no need for magical intervention in the first place.»

«Okay, okay, I admit it. So now what?»

The bird's voice was sounding more lifelike now, developing more expression.

I supposed it must have been a long time since she'd last spoken.

«Now—nothing. We'll have to hope for the best.»

«Are you going to tell the boss what happened?»

«No. At least, not yet. We're partners, after all.»

I felt a warm glow in my heart. This sudden improvement in relations with my partner would have made any mistakes worthwhile.

«Thanks. What do you advise?»

«You're doing everything right. Look for the trail.»

I'd have preferred rather less predictable advice…

«Let's go.»

By two o'clock, as well as the circle line, I'd combed the entire gray line too. Maybe I am a lousy operational agent, but there was no way I could have failed to spot the trail from yesterday, when I'd captured the image myself. The girl with the black vortex spinning over her head hadn't gotten out here. I'd have to go back and start again from the point where we'd met.

At Kurskaya I went up on the escalator and out of the metro and bought a plastic tub of salad and a coffee from a van right there on the street. The very sight of the hamburgers and sausages made me start feeling sick, even though the amount of meat in them was strictly symbolic.

«Will you have something?» I asked my invisible companion.

«No, thank you.»

Standing there with the fine snow falling on me, I picked at my Olivier salad with a tiny plastic fork and sipped the hot coffee. A bum who'd been counting on me buying beer, so that he could have the empty bottle, hung about for a bit and then took off into the metro to get warm. Nobody else paid any attention to me. The girl behind the counter served the hungry passersby; faceless streams of people flooded away from the station and back toward it. The salesman at a bookstall was trying wearily and unenthusiastically to foist some book or other on a customer. The customer didn't like the price.

«I must be in a bad mood or something…« I muttered.

«Why?»

«Everything looks dark and gloomy. All the people are lowlifes and idiots; the salad's frozen; my boots feel damp.»

The bird on my shoulder gave a derisive screech.

«No, Anton, it's not just your mood. You can sense the approach of the Inferno.»

«I'm not noted for being particularly sensitive.»

«That's just the point.»

I glanced at the station, tried to get a close look at people's faces. Some of them were sensing it too. The ones who stood right on the very boundary line between human being and Other were tense and depressed. They couldn't understand why, so they were compensating by acting cheerful.

«Darkness and Light…What will it be when it happens, Olga?»

«Anything at all. You stalled the time of the eruption, but now when the vortex strikes the consequences will be absolutely catastrophic. That's the effect of delay.»

«The boss didn't tell me that.»

«Why should he? You did the right thing. Now at least there's a chance.»

«Olga, how old are you?» I asked. Between human beings the question might have been taken as an insult. But for us age doesn't have any particular limits.

«Very old, Anton. For instance, I can remember the uprising.»

«The revolution?»

«The uprising on Senate Square in 1825.» The owl chortled. I didn't say anything. The owl could be even older than the boss.

«What's your rank, partner?»

«I don't have one. I was stripped of all rights.»

«I'm sorry.»

«No problem. I came to terms with it a long time ago.»

Her voice was still cheerful, even mocking. But something told me Olga had never come to terms with it.

«If you don't mind me asking… Why did they shut you in that body?»

«There was no other choice. Living in a wolf's body is much harder.»

«Wait…« I dropped the remains of the salad in a garbage can. I looked at my shoulder, but, of course, I didn't see the owl—to do that I would have had to withdraw into the Twilight. «Who are you? If you're a shape-shifter, then why are you with us? If you're a magician, then why such a strange punishment?»

«That's got nothing to do with the job, Anton.» For just a moment here was a hint of steel in her voice. «But it all started with me compromising with the Dark Ones. Only a small compromise. I thought I'd calculated the consequences, but I was wrong.»

So that was it…

«Was that why you started talking? You wanted to warn me off, but you were too late?»

No answer.

As if Olga was already regretting being so frank.

«Let's get on with the job…« I said. And just then the phone squeaked in my pocket.

It was Larissa. What was she doing working two straight shifts?

«Anton, listen carefully… They've picked up that girl's trail. Perovo station.»

«Sugar,» was all I said. Working out in the dormitory suburbs was absolute hell.

«Right,» Larissa agreed. She was no field operative… that was probably why she was sitting by the phone. But she was bright. «Anton, get across to Perovo. All our guys are being concentrated over there, they're following the trail. And another thing… they've spotted the Day Watch there.»

«I get the picture.» I folded my phone away.

I didn't get a thing. Did the Dark Ones already know about everything? Were they just yearning for the Inferno to erupt? Then maybe it was no accident that they'd stopped me?

Nonsense. A major disaster in Moscow was not in the interests of Darkness. But of course, they wouldn't try to stop the twister either: That would go against their nature.

So I didn't go into the metro after all. I stopped a car. It ought to save me a bit of time, even if not that much. I sat beside the driver, a swarthy, hook-nosed intellectual about forty years old. The car was new, and the driver himself gave the impression of doing very well for himself. It seemed a bit strange for him to be earning a bit on the side by offering a private taxi service.

… Perovo. A large city district. Crowds of people. Light and Darkness, all twisted up together into a knot. And a few institutions, casting beams of Darkness and Light in all directions. Working there was going to be like trying to find a grain of sand on the floor of a crowded discotheque with the strobe lights on…

I wouldn't be much use to anyone, or actually, I wouldn't be any use at all. But I'd been ordered to go, so I had to. Maybe they'd ask me to identify the girl.

«For some reason I was sure we'd get lucky,» I whispered, gazing at the road ahead. We drove past Elk Island Park, a pretty grim place; the Dark Ones gather there for their sabbaths. And when they do, the rights of ordinary people aren't always respected. Five nights a year we have to put up with anything. Well, almost anything.

«I thought so too,» whispered Olga.

«I can't compete with the field agents,» I said, shaking my head.

The driver squinted sideways at me; I'd accepted the price without haggling, and he'd seemed happy enough to go in our direction. But a man talking to himself always arouses suspicions.

«I just blew this job,» I told the driver with a sigh. «That is, I completely screwed it up. I thought I could make up for it today, but they got along without me.»

«So what's your hurry?» the driver asked. He didn't look like the talkative type, but he was interested enough.

«I was ordered to go,» I said.

I wondered who he thought I was.

«So what do you do?»

«I'm a programmer,» I answered. And I was telling the truth too.

«Fantastic,» the driver commented, and laughed. What did he find so fantastic about it? «Do you make a living?»

He didn't really have to ask. After all, I wasn't riding the metro. But I answered anyway:

«I do ok.»

«I wasn't just asking out of curiosity,» my driver unexpectedly confided. «My system administrator's leaving me…«

My system administrator… I see!

«I personally see the finger of fate in this. I give a man a lift and he turns out to be a programmer. I think you're already doomed.»

He laughed, like he was trying to make light of his excessive confidence.

«Have you done any work with local networks?»

«Yes.»

«A network of fifty machines. It has to be maintained. We pay well.»

I felt myself starting to smile. It was a good offer. A local network. Decent money. And no one sending you out at night to catch vampires, making you drink blood and sniff out trails on the frozen streets…

«Shall I give you my card?» The man deftly slipped one hand into his jacket pocket. «Think about it…«

«No thanks. I'm afraid no one just leaves my kind of work.»

«KGB, is it?» the driver asked with a frown.

«More serious than that,» I answered. «Much more serious. But something like it.»

«Oh, well…« the driver said, and paused. «A pity. And I thought it was a sign from on high. Do you believe in fate?»

He'd slipped into a familiar tone quite naturally. I liked that.

«No.»

«Why not?» asked the driver, genuinely surprised, as if he'd never met anyone but fatalists in his life.

«There's no such thing as fate. It's been proved.»

«By whom?»

«In the place I work.»

He laughed.

«That's great. So it's not meant to be! Where shall I stop for you?»

We were already driving down Zelyony Avenue.

I peered hard through the layer of ordinary daily reality, into the Twilight. I couldn't make anything out clearly; my powers weren't strong enough. I sensed it rather than saw it—a cluster of dim lights in the gray gloom. Almost the entire central office was there.

«Over there…«

While I was still in ordinary reality I couldn't see my colleagues. I walked over the gray city snow toward the little square buried under snowdrifts between the apartment blocks and the avenue. A few frozen little trees, a few lines of footsteps—either some kids had been having fun or a drunk had just walked straight across.

«Wave to them; they've spotted you,» Olga advised me.

I thought for a moment and followed her advice. Let them think I could see clearly from one reality into the other.

«A meeting,» Olga said mockingly. «An emergency briefing.»

I glanced around, just for form's sake, then summoned the Twilight and stepped into it.

The entire central office really was there. The whole Moscow department.

Standing in the middle was Boris Ignatievich. Lightly dressed, in a suit and a light fur cap, but wearing a scarf for some reason. I could just imagine him scrambling out of his BMW, surrounded by his bodyguards.

The field operatives were standing beside him. Igor and Garik—they were the ones really suited to the role of front-line fighters. Thickset, stony faces, square shoulders—impervious. You can tell at a glance what kind of education they'd had: eight grades of school, technical college, and the special forces. And as far as Igor's concerned that's exactly right. But Garik has two full college degrees. The appearance is similar, the behavior's almost identical, but the content's absolutely different. By comparison with them, Ilya looked like a refined intellectual, but don't be fooled by those round spectacles with the thin frames, that high forehead, and naive expression. Semyon was another exaggerated character: short, stocky, with a cunning gleam in his eyes, in a cheap nylon baseball jacket. A provincial, come up to the big city. And he'd come from somewhere out of the '60s, from the prize-winning collective farm Lenin's Stride. Absolute opposites. But what Ilya and Semyon did have in common was their beautiful tans and dejected expressions. They'd been pulled out of Sri Lanka in mid-vacation, and they weren't enjoying the Moscow winter too much. Ignat, Danila, and Farid weren't there, although I could sense their fresh trails. But standing right behind the boss, not exactly like they were trying to hide, but not really noticeable unless you looked hard, were Bear and Tiger Cub. Those two gave me a jolt. They're not ordinary front-line fighters; they're really good, and they don't let anything stand in their way.

There were lots of workers from the office there too.

The analytical section, all five of them. The research team—everyone except Yulia, but that wasn't surprising; she's only thirteen years old. The only ones missing were the archive group.

«Hi,» I said.

Some nodded, some smiled. But I could see they all had more important things to worry about. Boris Ignatievich gestured for me to come closer and then continued:

«Not in their interest, and we welcome that. We won't get any help from them… well fine, that's just great…«

Clear enough. He meant the Day Watch.

«We can search for the girl without anybody interfering, and Danila and Farid are already getting close. I'd say, another five or six minutes… But we've still been given an ultimatum.»

I caught Tiger Cub's eye. Oh, that was her ominous smile. That's right, her smile. Tiger Cub's a woman, but there was just no way the name «Tigress» would stick.

Our agents don't much like the word «ultimatum!»

«We don't keep the Black Magician,» the boss said, looking around at everyone with a dissatisfied expression. «Got that? We'll have to find him in order to disarm the vortex. But after that we hand the magician over to the Dark Ones.»

«We hand him over?» Ilya queried.

The boss thought for a second.

«Yes, that's a fair point. We don't eliminate him and we don't prevent him from contacting the Dark Ones. As far as I've been able to tell, they don't know who he is either.»

The operatives' faces were turning sourer by the moment. Any new magician on the territory they monitored was a big headache. Even if he was registered and observed the terms of the Treaty. But a magician this powerful…

«I'd prefer a slightly different scenario,» Tiger Cub said quietly. «Boris Ignatievich, in the course of our work, situations can crop up over which we have no control…«

«I'm sorry, but we can't allow any such situations to arise,» the boss snapped. But his irritation was fleeting, he did not press too hard; he'd always been fond of Tiger Cub. She backed off immediately.

I'd have done the same.

«Well, that's about it…« The boss glanced at me. «I'm glad you got here, Anton. There's something I especially wanted you to hear…«

I automatically tensed up.

«You did a good job yesterday. Yes, it's true, the reason I sent you out to look for the vampires was to test you. And not just to see how good an operative you are, either… you've been in a difficult situation for a very long time, Anton. Killing a vampire is a lot harder for you than for anyone else here.»

«That's just where you're wrong, boss,» I said.

«I'm glad if I'm mistaken. I want to thank you on behalf of the entire Night Watch. You destroyed one vampire and captured the image of the female vampire's trail. Captured it very accurately. You still don't have enough experience for investigative work. But you know how to record information clearly. The same thing goes for this girl. It was a completely non-standard situation, but you made a humane decision… and that's gained us some time. The image of her aura was magnificent. I knew right away where to look for her.»

That really stung. No one was smiling or laughing, no one was smirking at me, but I still felt humiliated all the same. The white owl, whom nobody had seen yet, twitched on my shoulder. I took a deep breath of the Twilight air, that cold, tasteless air that isn't air at all. I asked:

«Boris Ignatievich, then what was the reason for sending me around the circle line if you already knew the right district?»

«I could have been wrong,» the boss replied with a note of surprise in his voice. «That's another thing… you have to understand that when you're working out in the field, you can't afford to rely on any opinion, no matter how high up it comes from. One man in a field is a warrior—if he knows he's alone.»

«But I wasn't alone,» I said. «And this assignment is absolutely crucial for my partner; you know that better than I do. By sending us to check districts you knew were empty… you deprived her of a chance to redeem herself.»

The boss's face is made of stone; you can't read anything in it if he doesn't want you to.

But even so, I felt like I'd hit the target.

«Your assignment isn't over yet, Anton and Olga,» he replied. «There's still the girl-vampire, who has to be neutralized. No one has any right to interfere with us there: She violated the terms of the Treaty. And there's still the boy who showed such exceptional resistance to magic. He has to be found and turned to the side of the Light. Plenty to be getting on with.»

«And this young woman?»

«Already detected. Our specialists will now try to neutralize the vortex. If that doesn't work, which it won't, we'll have to figure out who cast the curse. Ignat, that's your job!»

I turned around. Yes, there was Ignat standing not far away. Tall, well-built, and handsome, with blond hair, the figure of Apollo and the face of a movie star. He moved without making a sound, but even so in ordinary reality he couldn't escape excessive attention from women.

Really excessive attention.

«That's not my way of working,» Ignat said gloomily. «Not an M.O . I'm particularly fond of.»

«You can choose who you sleep with on your own time,» the boss barked. «But when you're working, I make all your decisions for you. Even when you go to the John.»

Ignat shrugged. He glanced at me and growled to himself:

«It's discrimination…«

«You're not in the States,» the boss said, and his voice turned dangerously polite. «Yes, it's discrimination. Making use of the most appropriate available member of staff without taking his personal inclinations into account.»

«Couldn't I take that assignment?» Garik asked in a quiet little voice.

That released the tension immediately. Garik's incredibly bad luck in affairs of the heart was no secret to anyone. Someone laughed.

«Igor and Garik, you carry on with the search for the girl-vampire.» The boss almost seemed to have taken the suggestion seriously. «She needs blood. She was stopped at the final moment; now she's going insane from hunger and frustration. Expect new victims at any moment! Anton, you and Olga look for the boy.»

Clear enough.

The most pointless and least important assignment again.

Somewhere in the city there was an Inferno just waiting to erupt; somewhere in the city there was a wild, hungry female vampire, and I had to go looking for a kid who might, potentially, possess great magical powers.

«Permission to proceed?» I asked.

«Yes, of course,» said the boss, ignoring my quiet hint of revolt. «Proceed.»

I swung around and left the Twilight as a sign of protest. The world flickered as it filled up with colors and sounds. I was left standing there on my own in the middle of the small square. To any outsider watching it would have looked really crazy. And then there were no footprints… I was standing in a snowdrift, surrounded by a shroud of virgin snow.

That's how myths are born. Out of our carelessness, out of our tattered nerves, out of jokes that go wrong and flashy gestures.

«It's okay,» I said and set off in a straight line for the street.

«Thank you…« a quiet voice whispered affectionately in my ear.

«For what, Olga?»

«For not forgetting about me.»

«It really is that important to you to succeed in this mission, isn't it?»

«Yes, it is,» the bird answered after a pause.

«Then we'll try really hard.»

I skipped over the snowdrifts and some stones or other—a glacier must have passed that way, or maybe someone had been playing Zen gardens—and came out onto the avenue.

«Have you got any cognac?» asked Olga.

«Cognac… why? Yes.»

«Good cognac?»

«It's never bad. If it's really cognac, that is.»

Olga sniffed scornfully.

«Then why don't you offer a lady coffee with cognac?»

I pictured to myself an owl drinking cognac out of a saucer and almost laughed out loud.

«Certainly. Shall we take a taxi?»

«It was an old line straight out of Twelve Chairs by Ilf and Petrov.»

«Don't push it, kid!»

Hmm. Just when had she been locked into that bird's body? Or maybe it didn't stop her reading books?

«There's such a thing as the television,» the bird whispered.

Darkness and Light! I'd been certain my thoughts were safely concealed.

«Experience of life is an excellent substitute for vulgar telepathy… a long experience of life,» Olga went on slyly. «Your thoughts are closed to me, Anton. And anyway, you're my partner.»

«I wasn't really…« I gave up. It was stupid to deny the obvious. «And what about the boy? Are we just dropping the assignment? It's not all that serious…«

«It's very serious,» Olga exclaimed indignantly. «Anton, the boss has admitted that he acted wrongly. He's given us a head start, and we've got to make the most of it. The girl-vampire is focused on the boy, don't you see? For her he's like a sandwich she never got to eat; it was just grabbed right out of her mouth. And he's still on her leash. Now she can lure him into her lair from any side of the city. But that gives us an advantage. Why go looking for a tiger in the jungle, when you can tether a little goat out in a clearing?»

«Moscow's just full of little goats like that…«

«This boy is on her leash. She's an inexperienced vampire. Establishing contact with a new victim is harder than attracting an old one. Trust me.»

I shuddered, trying to shake off a foolish suspicion. I raised my hand to stop a car and said somberly:

«I trust you. Absolutely and completely.»

Chapter 4

The owl emerged from the Twilight the moment I stepped inside the door. It launched into the air—for just an instant I felt the light prick of its claws—and headed for the refrigerator.

«Maybe I ought to make you a perch?» I asked, locking the door.

For the first time I saw how Olga spoke. Her beak twitched, and she forced the words out with an obvious effort. To be honest, I still don't understand how a bird can talk. Especially in such a human voice.

«Better not, or I'll start laying eggs.»

That was obviously an attempt at a joke.

«Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you,» I told her, to avoid complications. «I was trying to lighten things up too.»

«I understand. It's all right.»

I rummaged in the refrigerator and discovered a few odd bits and pieces. Cheese, salami, pickles… I wondered how forty-year-old cognac would go with a lightly salted cucumber? They'd probably find each other's company a bit awkward. The way Olga and I did.

I took out the cheese and the salami.

«I don't have any lemons, sorry.» I realized just how absurd all these preparations were, but still… «At least it's a decent cognac.»

The owl didn't say anything.

I took the bottle of Kutuzov out of the drawer in the table that I used as a bar.

«Ever tried this?»

«Our reply to Napoleon?» the owl asked with a laugh. «No, I haven't.»

The situation just kept getting more and more absurd. I rinsed out two cognac glasses and put them on the table, glanced doubtfully at the bundle of white feathers, at the short, crooked beak.

«You can't drink from a glass. Maybe I should get you a saucer?»

«Look the other way.»

I did as she said. There was a rustling of feathers behind my back. Then a faint, unpleasant hissing sound that reminded me of a snake that's just been woken up or gas escaping from a cylinder.

«Olga, I'm sorry, but…« I said as I turned around.

The owl wasn't there anymore.

Sure, I'd been expecting something like this. I'd been hoping she was allowed to assume human form sometimes at least. And in my mind I'd drawn this portrait of Olga, a woman imprisoned in the body of a bird, a woman who remembers the Decembrist uprising. I'd had this picture of Princess Lopukhina running away from the ball. Only a bit older and more serious, with a wise look in her eyes, a bit thinner…

But the woman sitting on the stool was young; in fact, she looked really young. About twenty-five. Hair cut short like a man's, dirt on her cheeks, as if she'd just escaped from a fire. Beautiful, with finely molded, aristocratic features. But that dirty soot… that crude, ugly haircut…

The final shock was the way she was dressed.

Dirty army trousers in the 1940s style, a padded jacket, unbuttoned, over a dirty-gray soldier's blouse. Bare feet.

«Am I beautiful?» the woman asked.

«Yes, as a matter of fact, you are,» I replied. «Light and Darkness… why do you look that way?»

«The last time I assumed human form was fifty-five years ago.»

I nodded.

«I get it. They used you in the war.»

«They use me in every war,» Olga said with a sweet smile. «In every serious war. At any other time I'm forbidden to assume human form.»

«There's no war on now.»

«Then there's going to be one.»

She didn't smile that time. I restrained my oath and just made the sign to ward off misfortune.

«Do you want to take a shower?»

«I'd love to.»

«I don't have any woman's clothes… will jeans and a shirt do?»

She nodded. She got up—moving awkwardly, waving her arms around in a funny way and looking down in surprise at her own bare feet. But she walked to the bathroom like it wasn't the first time she'd taken a shower at my place.

I made a dash for the bedroom. She probably didn't have much time.

A pair of old jeans one size smaller than I wear now. They'll still be too big for her… A shirt? No, better a thin sweater. Underwear… hmm. Hmm, hmm, hmm.

«Anton!»

I piled the clothes into a heap, grabbed a clean towel, and dashed back. The bathroom door was open.

«What kind of faucet is this?»

«It's a foreign import, a ball mechanism… just a moment.»

I went in. Olga was standing naked in the bath with her back to me, turning the lever of the faucet left and right.

«Up,» I said. «You lift it up to get pressure. Left for cold water, right for hot.»

«Okay. Thanks.»

She wasn't even slightly embarrassed. Not surprising, considering her age and her rank… even if she no longer held one.

But I felt embarrassed. So I tried to act unfazed.

«Here are the threads. Maybe you can pick something out. That is, if you need anything.»

«Thank you, Anton…« Olga looked at me. «Take no notice. I've spent eighty years in a bird's body. Hibernating most of the time, but I've still had more than enough.»

Her eyes were deep, fascinating. Dangerous eyes.

«I don't think of myself as a human being, or an Other, or a woman any longer. Or as an owl, either, come to that. Just… a bitter, old sexless fool who can sometimes talk.»

The water spurted out of the showerhead. Olga slowly raised her arms and turned around, reveling in the sensation of the firm jets.

«Washing off the soot is more important to me than… the embarrassment of an attractive young man.»

I swallowed the «young man» without any arguments and left the bathroom. I shook my head, picked up the cognac, and opened the bottle.

One thing at least was clear: She was no werewolf. A werewolf wouldn't have kept the clothes on its body. Olga was a magician. A female magician maybe two hundred years old who'd been punished eighty years ago by being deprived of her body but still hoped for a chance to redeem herself. She was a specialist in conflicts involving force, and the last time she'd been used for a job had been about fifty years earlier…

That was enough information to search the database in the computer. I didn't have access to the complete files; I wasn't that senior. But fortunately the top management had no idea how much information an indirect search could yield.

Provided, of course, that I really wanted to find out who Olga was.

I poured the cognac into the glasses and waited. Olga came out of the bathroom about five minutes later, drying her hair with a towel. She was wearing my jeans and sweater.

I couldn't say she was totally transformed… but she was definitely looking way more attractive.

«Thanks, Anton. You've no idea how much I enjoyed…«

«I can guess.»

«Guessing's not enough. That smell, Anton… that smell of burning. I'd almost got used to it after half a century.» She sat down awkwardly on a stool and sighed. «It's not good, of course, but I'm glad this crisis is happening. Even if they don't pardon me, for a chance to get washed…«

«You can stay in this form, Olga. I'll go out and buy some decent clothes.»

«Don't bother. I only have half an hour a day.»

Olga screwed up the towel and tossed it onto the windowsill. She sighed:

«I might not get another chance to take a shower. Or drink cognac… Your health, Anton.»

«Your health.»

The cognac was good. I took a sip and savored it, despite the total muddle in my head. Olga downed it in one and pulled a face, but she declared politely:

«Not bad.»

«Why won't the boss let you assume your normal form?»

«That's not in his power.»

Clear enough. So it wasn't the regional office that had punished her, but the higher authorities.

«Here's to your success, Olga. Whatever it was that you did… I'm sure your guilt must have been expiated by now.»

The woman shrugged.

«I'd like to think so. I know people find me easy to sympathize with, but the punishment was just. Anyway, let's get down to serious business.»

«Okay.»

Olga leaned toward me across the table and spoke in a mysterious whisper:

«I'll be honest with you: I've had enough. I've got strong nerves, but this is no way to live. My only chance is to carry through an assignment so important that our superiors will have no option but to pardon me.»

«Where can you find a mission like that?»

«We already have it. And it consists of three stages. The boy—we protect him and then bring him over to the side of the Light. The girl-vampire—we destroy her.»

Olga's voice sounded confident and suddenly I believed her. Protect one, destroy the other. No problem.

«But that's only the small change, Anton. An operation like that will get you promoted, but it won't save me. The really important part is the girl with the vortex.»

«They're already dealing with her, Olga. They've taken me… us off the assignment.»

«Never mind that. They won't be able to handle it.»

«Oh no?» I asked ironically.

«They won't. Boris Ignatievich is a very powerful magician. But not in this area.» Olga half-closed her eyes in a mocking smile. «I've been dealing with Inferno eruption breaches all my life.»

«So that's why it's war!» I exclaimed, catching on.

«Of course. You don't get sudden eruptions of hatred like that during times of peace. That son of a bitch Adolf… he had plenty of admirers, but he would have been incinerated in the very first year of the war. And the whole of Germany with him. The situation with Stalin was a different case, adoration on a monstrous scale like that is a powerful shield. Anton, I'm a simple Russian woman…«—the smile that flitted across Olga's face showed what she really felt about the word «simple»—«and I spent all the last war shielding the enemies of my own country against curses. For that alone I deserve to be pardoned. Do you believe me?»

«I believe you.» I got the impression she was already getting tipsy.

«It's lousy work… we all have to go against our human nature, but going that far… Anyway, Anton, they won't be able to handle it. I… can at least try, though even I can't be absolutely certain of success.»

«Olga, if this is all so serious, you should put in a report…«

The woman shook her head and straightened out her wet hair.

«I can't. I'm forbidden to associate with anyone except Boris Ignatievich and my partner on the assignment. I've told him everything. All I can do now is wait. And hope that I'll be able to deal with this—at the very last moment.»

«But doesn't the boss understand all that?»

«I think he understands it all very well.»

«So that's the way…« I whispered.

«We were lovers. For a very long time. And we were friends too, something you don't find so often… Okay, Anton. Today we solve the problem of the boy and the crazed vampire. Tomorrow we wait. We wait for the Inferno to erupt. Agreed?»

«I have to think about it, Olga.»

«Fine. Think. But my time's up already. Turn away.»

I didn't have time. It was probably Olga's own fault. She'd miscalculated how much time she had left.

It was a genuinely repulsive sight. Olga shuddered and arched over backward. A spasm ran through her body and the bones bent as if they were made of rubber. Her skin split open, revealing the bleeding muscles. A moment later, and the woman had been transformed into a formless, crumpled bundle of flesh. And the ball kept shrinking, getting smaller and smaller and sprouting soft, white feathers…

The polar owl launched itself off the stool with a cry that sounded half-human, half-bird and fluttered across to its chosen place on the refrigerator.

«Hell and damnation!» I exclaimed, forgetting all the rules and instructions. «Olga!»

«Isn't it lovely?» The woman's voice was gasping, still distorted by pain.

«Why? Why like that?»

«It's part of the punishment, Anton.»

I reached out my hand and touched one outstretched, trembling wing.

«Okay, Olga, I agree.»

«Then let's get to work, Anton.»

I nodded and went out into the hallway. I opened the cupboard where I kept my equipment and moved into the Twilight—otherwise you simply can't see anything in there except clothes and a load of old junk.

A light body settled on to my shoulder.

«What have you got?»

«I discharged the onyx amulet. Can you recharge it?»

«No, I've been deprived of almost all my powers. All they left me is what's required to neutralize the inferno. And my memory, Anton… they left me my memory. How are you going to kill the girl-vampire?»

«She's not registered,» I said. «I've only got the old folk methods.»

The owl gave a screeching laugh.

«Are poplar stakes still popular?»

«I don't have one.»

«Right. Because of your friends?»

«Yes. I don't want them to shudder every time they step inside the door.»

«What, then?»

I took a pistol out of a hollow gouged out in the bricks and squinted sideways at the owl—Olga was studying the gun.

«Silver? Very painful for a vampire, but not fatal.»

«It has explosive bullets.» I slid the clip out of the Desert Eagle. «Explosive silver bullets. Forty-four caliber. Three hits and a vampire's totally helpless.»

«And then?»

«Traditional methods.»

«I don't believe in technology,» Olga said doubtfully. «I've seen a werewolf regenerate after being torn to pieces by a shell.»

«How long did it take to regenerate?»

«Three days.»

«Well, there you are then.»

«All right, Anton. If you have no faith in your own powers…«

She was disappointed, I realized that. But then I was no field operative. I was a staff worker assigned to work in the field.

«Everything will be fine,» I reassured her. «Trust me. Let's just focus on finding the bait.» «Okay, let's go.»

«This is where it all happened,» I told Olga. We were standing in the alley. In the Twilight, of course.

The occasional passersby looked funny skirting around me when they couldn't see me.

«This is where you killed the vampire.» Olga's tone of voice couldn't possibly have been more brisk. «Right… I understand. You did a poor job cleaning up the garbage… but that's not important…«

As far as I could see, there wasn't a trace left of the departed vampire. But I didn't argue.

«The girl-vampire was here… you hit her with something here… no, you splashed vodka on her…« Olga laughed quietly. «She got away… Our operatives have completely lost their touch. The trail's still clear even now!»

«She changed,» I said morosely.

«Into a bat?»

«Yes. Garik said she did it at the very last moment.»

«That's bad. This vampire's more powerful than I was hoping.»

«She's completely wild. She's drunk living blood and killed. She has no experience, but plenty of power.»

«We'll destroy her,» Olga said sternly.

I didn't say anything.

«And here's the boy's trail.» There was a note of approval in Olga's voice. «Yes indeed… good potential. Let's go and see where he lives.»

We walked out of the alley and set off along the sidewalk. The houses surrounded a large inner yard on all sides. I could sense the boy's aura too, but it was very weak and confused: He walked around here all the time.

«Straight ahead,» Olga commanded. «Turn left. Farther. Turn right. Stop…«

I stopped facing a street with a streetcar crawling slowly

I stopped facing a street with a streetcar crawling slowly along it. I didn't emerge from the Twilight yet.

«In that building,» Olga told me. «Straight ahead. That's where he is.»

The building was a huge monster, an immensely tall, flat slab set on tall legs or stilts. At first glance it looked like some gigantic monument to the matchbox. Look again and you could see it was an expression of morbid gigantomania.

«That's a good house for killing in,» I said. «You could go insane in there.»

«Let's try both,» Olga agreed. «I've got plenty of experience.»

Egor didn't want to go out. When his parents left to go to work and the door slammed, he felt the fear immediately. And he knew that outside the bounds of the empty apartment the fear would turn into terror.

There was nothing that could save him. Nothing anywhere. But at least his home gave him the illusion of safety.

Last night the world had crumbled, the world had completely collapsed. Egor had always admitted quite honestly—at least to himself, if not in public—that he wasn't really brave. But he wasn't exactly a coward either. There were some things it was only right to be afraid of: young thugs, maniacs, terrorists, disasters, fires, wars, deadly diseases. To him, they were all lumped together—and all equally far away. All these things really did exist, but at the same time they remained beyond his everyday experience. Follow simple rules, don't wander the streets at night, don't go into unfamiliar districts, wash your hands before eating, don't jump onto the railway lines. It was possible to be afraid of unpleasant things and at the same time know there wasn't much chance they would mess up your life.

Now everything had changed.

There were some things you couldn't hide from. Things that shouldn't exist, that couldn't exist.

But vampires did exist.

He remembered it all distinctly; the horror hadn't wiped his memory clean, the way he'd vaguely hoped it would yesterday, when he was running home, breaking the rules by running across the street without looking. And his timid hope that in the morning everything that had happened would turn out to be a dream had proved wrong too.

It was all true. It couldn't possibly be true, but it was…

It had happened yesterday. It had happened to him.

He'd been late coming home, sure, but he'd come home later than that before. Even his parents who, Egor was quite certain, hadn't realized yet that he was almost thirteen years old, thought nothing of it.

When he left the swimming pool with the other guys… yes, it was ten o'clock already. They all piled into McDonald's and sat there for about twenty minutes. That was the usual thing too, after training everyone who could afford it went to McDonald's. Then… then they all walked to the metro together. It wasn't far. Along a brightly lit street. Eight of them together.

Everything was still fine then.

It was in the metro that he'd started feeling uneasy. He looked at his watch, stared around at the other passengers. But there was nothing suspicious.

Except that Egor could hear music.

And then things that couldn't happen had started happening.

Without knowing why, he turned into a dark, stinking alleyway. He walked up to a girl and a young guy who were waiting for him. They'd lured him there. And he offered his own neck to the girl's long, sharp fangs that weren't even human.

Even now, at home on his own, Egor could feel that chill—that sweet, enticing tingle running across his skin. He'd wanted it to happen! He'd been afraid, but he'd wanted the touch of the gleaming fangs, the sharp, short pain, and then… and then… there'd be something else… there had to be…

And no one in the whole wide world could help him. Egor remembered the way the woman who was walking her dogs had looked straight through him. An alert glance, not at all indifferent—she hadn't been frightened, she simply couldn't see what was happening… Egor had been saved only by the third vampire turning up. That pale guy with the Walkman who'd started trailing him back in the metro. They'd fought over him the way hungry, full-grown wolves quarrel over a deer they've cornered but not killed yet.

Then everything had got confused; it all happened too fast. Someone shouted something about some watch or other, about the twilight. There was a flash of blue light, and one vampire crumbled into dust right there in front of his eyes, just like in the movies. The girl-vampire was howling because she'd had something splashed into her face.

Then he'd fled in panic…

And now he realized something terrible, even more terrible than what had happened: He couldn't tell anyone anything. They wouldn't believe him. They wouldn't understand.

Vampires don't exist!

It's not possible to look straight through people and not see them!

Nobody just burns up in a swirl of blue flame, and turns into a dried mummy, a skeleton, a handful of ash!

«They do!» Egor told himself. «They do exist. It is possible. It does happen!»

But even he could hardly believe it…

Egor didn't go to school, but he did clean up the apartment. He wanted to do something. Several times he went across to the window and looked carefully around the yard.

Nothing suspicious.

But would he be able to see them?

They would come. Egor didn't doubt it for a single second. They knew he remembered them. Now they would kill him, because he was a witness.

But they wouldn't just kill him! They'd drink his blood and turn him into a vampire.

The boy walked over to the bookshelf, where half the shelves were filled with videocassettes. Maybe he could look for some advice here? Dracula, Dead and Loving It … no, that was comedy. Once Bitten —absolute garbage… Night of Terror . . . Egor shuddered. He remembered that film. And now he'd never dare watch it again. What did it say again? Oh, right… «A crucifix helps, if you believe in it.»

But how could a crucifix help him? He wasn't even baptized. And he didn't believe in God. At least, he hadn't believed before.

Maybe he ought to start now?

If vampires existed, then so did the devil, and if the devil existed, then God did too?

If vampires existed, then so did God?

If Evil existed, then so did Good?

«It's all nonsense,» said Egor. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans, went out into the hallway and looked in the mirror. He was reflected in the mirror. A bit too gloomy, maybe, but just a perfectly normal kid. That meant everything was still okay, so far. They hadn't managed to bite him.

Just to make sure, he twisted this way and that, trying to see the back of his neck. No, there were no marks, nothing. Just a skinny neck, maybe not too clean…

The idea suddenly hit him. Egor dashed into the kitchen, frightening the cat off its comfortable spot on the washing machine. He started rummaging through the bags of potatoes, onions, and carrots.

There it was, the garlic.

Egor hastily peeled one head and started chewing it. The garlic was fierce; it burned his mouth. Egor poured a glass of tea and started taking a mouthful after every clove. It didn't help much; his tongue was on fire and his gums itched. But it was sure to help, wasn't it?

The cat peeped back into the kitchen, gaped at the boy in amazement, gave a disappointed meow, and went away. He couldn't understand how anyone could eat anything so disgusting.

Egor chewed up the last two cloves, spat them out into his palm, and started rubbing them on his neck. He could have laughed at himself for doing it, but he wasn't going to stop now.

His neck started to sting too—it was good garlic. A single breath would finish any vampire.

The cat began howling restlessly in the hallway. Egor pricked up his ears and peeped out of the kitchen. No, nothing there. The door was secured with three locks and a chain.

«Stop yelling, Gray!» he told the cat sternly. «Or I'll make you eat garlic too.»

The cat took the threat seriously and dashed off into the parents' bedroom. What else could he do? Silver was supposed to help. Egor frightened the cat again by going into the bedroom, opening the wardrobe, and taking his mother's jewelry box out from under the sheets and towels. He took out a silver chain and put it on. It would smell of garlic, and he'd have to take it off before the evening. Maybe he should empty his moneybox and buy himself a chain? With a crucifix. And wear it all the time. Say he'd started believing in God. Didn't it happen sometimes that someone didn't believe for a long, long time, and then suddenly started believing after all?

He walked across the living room, sat down with his feet up on the couch and looked around the room thoughtfully. Did they have any poplar wood in the house? He didn't think so. And what did poplar wood look like, anyway? Maybe he should go to the botanical gardens and cut himself a dagger out of a branch?

That was all great, of course, but what good would it do? If the music started playing again… that soft, alluring music… What if he took the chain off himself, broke the poplar-wood dagger, and washed the garlic off his own neck?

Soft, gentle music… invisible enemies. Maybe they were already there with him. He simply couldn't see them. He didn't know how to look. And a vampire might be sitting right there, laughing at him, looking at this naive kid preparing his defenses. And he wasn't afraid of any poplar stake, he wasn't scared by the garlic. How could you fight against something invisible?

«Gray!» Egor called. The cat didn't respond to the usual «kss-kss»; he was a fickle character. «Come here, Gray!»

The cat was standing in the doorway of the bedroom. His fur was standing on end and his eyes were blazing. He was looking past Egor, into the corner, at the armchair beside the coffee table. At an empty chair…

The boy felt that familiar chilly shiver run over his body. He jerked forward so violently that he went flying off the couch and landed on the floor. The armchair was empty. The apartment was empty and locked. Everything turned dark, as if the sunlight outside the window had suddenly dimmed…

There was someone there with him.

«No!» Egor shouted, crawling away. «I know! I know you're here!»

The cat gave a hoarse screech and darted under the bed.

«I can see you,» shouted Egor. «Don't touch me!»

The entryway of the building looked gloomy and miserable enough anyway. But viewed from inside the twilight, it was a genuine catacomb. Concrete walls that were simply dirty in ordinary reality were overgrown with a dark blue moss in the Twilight. Disgusting filth. There wasn't a single Other living here to clean up the place… I passed my hand over a really thick bunch—the moss stirred, trying to creep away from the warmth.

«Burn,» I ordered it.

I don't like parasites. Not even if they don't do any particular harm and only drink other creatures' emotions. No one's ever proved the hypothesis that large colonies of blue moss are capable of unbalancing the human psyche and causing depression or mania. But I've always preferred to play it safe.

«Burn!» I repeated, transmitting a small amount of power through my hand.

A hot, transparent flame spread across the layer of tangled blue felt. A moment later the entire entrance was ablaze. I stepped away toward the elevator, pressed the button, got into the elevator. The cabin was a lot cleaner.

«Ninth floor,» Olga prompted. «Why waste your powers like that?»

«That's just small change…«

«You might need everything you've got. Let it grow.»

I didn't answer. The elevator crawled slowly upward—the Twilight elevator, the double of the ordinary one that was still standing on the first floor.

«Suit yourself,» said Olga. «The uncompromising passion of youth…«

The doors opened. The fire had already reached the ninth floor and the blue moss was blazing wildly. It was warm, a lot warmer than it usually is in the Twilight. There was a slight smell of burning.

«That door there…« said Olga.

«I can see.»

I could sense the boy's aura by the door. He hadn't even taken the risk of coming out today. Excellent. The little goat was tethered with a strong rope; all we had to do was wait for the tiger.

«I suppose I'll go in,» I said. I pushed the door.

The door didn't open.

That couldn't happen!

In the real world all the locks on the door could be closed, but the Twilight has its own laws. Only vampires need an invitation to enter someone else's home; that's the price they pay for their excessive strength and their gastronomic attitude to human beings.

In order to lock a door in the Twilight, you had to know at least how to enter it.

«Fear,» said Olga. «Yesterday the boy was in a state of terror. And he'd just been in the Twilight world. He locked the door behind him… and without knowing it, he locked it in both worlds at the same time.»

«Come deeper. Follow me.»

I looked at my shoulder—there was no one there. Summoning the Twilight while you're in the Twilight is no simple trick. I had to raise my shadow from the floor several times before it acquired volume and hung there, quivering in front of me.

«Come on, come on, you're doing fine,» whispered Olga.

I entered the shadow, and the Twilight grew thicker. Space was filled with a dense fog. Colors disappeared completely. The only sound left was the beating of my heart, slow and heavy, rumbling like a drum being beaten at the bottom of a ravine. And there was a whistling wind—that was the air seeping into my lungs, slowly stretching out the bronchi. The white owl appeared on my shoulder.

«I won't be able to stand this for long,» I whispered, opening the door. At this level, of course, it wasn't locked.

A dark-gray cat flitted past my feet. For cats there is no ordinary world or Twilight—they live in all the worlds at once. It's a good thing they don't have any real intelligence.

«Kss-kss-kss,» I whispered. «Don't be afraid, puss…«

Mostly to test my own powers, I locked the door behind me. There, kid, now you're protected a little bit better. But will it do any good when you hear the Call?

«Move up,» said Olga. «You're losing strength very fast. This level of the Twilight is a strain even for an experienced magician. I think I'll move up a level too.»

It was a relief to step out of it. No, I'm not an operational agent who can stroll around all three levels of the Twilight just as he likes. But I don't really need to do that kind of thing.

The world turned a little bit brighter. I glanced around. It was a cozy apartment, not much polluted by the products of the Twilight world. A few streaks of blue moss beside the door… nothing to worry about, they'd die, now that the main colony had been exterminated. I heard sounds too, from the direction of the kitchen. I glanced in.

The boy was standing by the table, eating garlic and washing it down with hot tea.

«Light and Darkness,» I whispered.

The kid looked even younger and more helpless than the day before, thin and awkward, but you couldn't call him weak; he obviously played sports. He was wearing faded blue jeans and a blue sweatshirt.

«The poor soul,» I said.

«Very touching,» Olga agreed. «It was a very clever move by the vampires to spread that rumor about the magical properties of garlic. They say it was Bram Stoker himself who thought it up…«

The boy spat into his hand and started rubbing garlic onto his neck.

«Garlic's good for you,» I said.

«Yes. It protects you. Against flu viruses,» Olga added. «Oh, how easily the truth is lost, and how persistent lies are… But the boy really is strong. The Night Watch could do with another agent.»

«But is he ours?»

«He's not anyone's yet. His destiny's still not been determined; you can see for yourself.»

«But which way does he lean?»

«There's no way to tell, not yet. He's too frightened. Right now he'd do absolutely anything to escape from the vampires. He's ready to turn to the Dark or the Light.»

«I can't blame him for that.»

«No, of course. Come on.»

The owl fluttered into the air and flew along the corridor. I walked after it. We were moving three times faster than human beings now: One of the fundamental features of the Twilight is the way it affects the passage of time.

«We'll wait here,» Olga announced, when we were in the living room. «It's warm, light, and cozy.»

I sat in a soft armchair beside a low table and squinted at the newspaper lying there.

There's nothing more amusing than reading the press through the Twilight.

«Profits on Loans Are Down,» said the headline.

In the real world the phrase was different: «Tension Mounts in the Caucasus.»

I could pick up the newspaper now and read the truth. The real truth. What the journalist was thinking when he wrote about the subject he was covering. Those crumbs of information that he'd received from unofficial sources. The truth about life and the truth about death.

Only what for?

I'd stopped giving a damn about the human world a long time ago. It's our basis. Our cradle. But we are Others. We walk through closed doors and we maintain the balance of Good and Evil. There are pitifully few of us, and we can't reproduce—it doesn't follow that a magician's daughter automatically becomes an enchantress, and a werewolf's son won't necessarily be able to change his form on moonlit nights.

We're not obliged to like the ordinary, everyday world.

We only guard it because we're its parasites.

I hate parasites!

«What are you thinking about now?» asked Olga. The boy appeared in the living room. He dashed across into the bedroom—very quickly, bearing in mind that he was in the everyday world. He started rummaging in the wardrobe.

«Nothing much. Just feeling sad.»

«It happens. During the first few years it happens to everyone.» Olga's voice sounded completely human now. «Then you get used to it.»

«That's what I'm feeling sad about.»

«You should be glad we're still alive. At the beginning of the twentieth century the population of Others fell to a critical threshold. Did you know there were debates about uniting the Dark Ones and the Light Ones? That programs of eugenics were developed?»

«Yes, I know.»

«Science came close to killing us off. They didn't believe in us; they wouldn't believe. That is, while they still believed science could change the world for the better.»

The boy came back into the living room. He sat down on the couch and started adjusting the silver chain around his neck.

«What is better?» I asked. «We were people once, but we've learned to enter the Twilight; we've learned to change the nature of things and other people. And what's changed, Olga?»

«At least vampires don't hunt without a license.»

«Tell that to the person whose blood they drink…«

The cat appeared in the doorway and fixed his gaze on us. He howled, glaring angrily at the owl.

«It's you he doesn't like, Olga,» I said. «Move deeper into the Twilight.»

«Too late,» Olga replied. «Sorry, I let my guard down.»

The boy sprang up off the couch, far faster than is possible in the human world. Clumsily, without even knowing what was happening to him, he entered his shadow and immediately fell on the floor, looking up at me. Through the Twilight.

«I'm leaving…« the owl whispered as she disappeared. Her claws dug painfully into my shoulder.

«No!» shouted the boy. «I know! I know! You're here!»

I started to get up, spreading my hands.

«I can see you! Don't touch me!»

He was in the Twilight. He'd done it, just like that. Without any help from anyone, without any curses or stimulants, without any magician to tutor him, the boy had crossed the boundary between the ordinary and the Twilight worlds.

The way you first enter the Twilight, what you see and what you feel there, goes a long way to determine who you'll become.

A Dark One or a Light One. Olga's voice in my head:

«We have no right to let him go over to the Dark Side; the balance in Moscow would completely collapse.»

Okay, kid, you're right on the very edge.

That was more terrifying than any inexperienced vampire.

Boris Ignatievich was entitled to have the boy taken out.

«Don't be afraid,» I said, not moving from the spot. «Don't be afraid. I'm your friend and I won't do you any harm.»

The boy crawled as far as the corner and froze there, never once taking his eyes off me. He clearly didn't understand that he'd shifted into the Twilight. It looked to him as if the room had suddenly turned dark, a sudden silence had fallen, and I'd appeared out of nowhere…

«Don't be afraid,» I repeated. «My name's Anton. What's your name?»

He didn't say anything. He kept gulping, over and over again. Then he pressed his hand against his neck, felt for the chain, and seemed to calm down a bit.

«I'm not a vampire,» I said.

«Who are you?» the boy yelled. It was a good thing that piercing shriek couldn't be heard in the everyday world.

«Anton. A Night Watch agent.»

His eyes opened wide, as if he were in pain.

«It's my job to protect people against vampires and all sorts of vermin.»

«You're lying…«

«Why?»

He shrugged. Good. He was trying to assess his actions so far and explain his reasons. That meant the fear hadn't completely paralyzed his mind.

«What's your name?» I asked again. I could have influenced the boy and removed his fear. But that would have been an intervention, and a forbidden one.

«Egor…«

«A good name. My name's Anton. Do you understand? I'm Anton Sergeevich Gorodetsky. A Night Watch agent. Yesterday I killed a vampire who was attacking you.»

«Just one?»

Excellent. Now we had the makings of a conversation.

«Yes. The girl-vampire got away. They're searching for her now. Don't be afraid, I'm here to guard you… to destroy the vampire.»

«Why is everything so gray?» Egor suddenly asked.

Good boy. That's really good thinking.

«I'll explain. Only first let's agree that I'm not your enemy. All right?»

«We'll see.»

He held on to his absurd little chain, as if it could save him from anything. Oh, kid, if only everything in this world were that easy. Silver won't save you, or poplar wood, or the holy cross. It's life against death, love against hate… and power against power, because power has no moral categories. That's how simple it is. In the last couple of years I've come to realize that.

«Egor,» I said, walking slowly across to him. «Listen, I want to tell you something.»

«Stop!»

He shouted the command as sharply as if he were holding a weapon in his hands. I sighed and stopped.

«All right. Now listen. Apart from the ordinary world that the human eye can see, there is also a shadow world, the Twilight world.»

He thought. Despite his fear—and he was terribly afraid, I could feel the waves of his suffocating horror washing over me—the boy was trying to understand. There are some people who are paralyzed by fear. And there are some it only makes stronger.

I was really hoping he would be one of the second kind.

«A parallel world?»

There, now he was bringing in science fiction. But never mind, it didn't matter. Names are nothing more than sounds.

«Yes, and only people with supernatural powers can enter that world.»

«Vampires?»

«Not only. There are werewolves, witches, black magicians… white magicians, healers, seers.»

«And they all really exist?»

He was soaking wet. His hair was clumped together; his sweatshirt was clinging to his body; beads of sweat were rolling down his cheeks. But still the boy never took his eyes off me and was getting ready to thwart me. As if he really had the power to do it.

«Yes, Egor. Sometimes people appear who can enter the Twilight world. They take the side of either Good or Evil. Light or Darkness. They are the Others. That's what we call each other, the Others.»

«Are you an Other?»

«Yes, and so are you.»

«Why?»

«You're in the Twilight world right now, kid. Take a look around, listen. All the colors have turned gray. The sounds have faded away. The second hand on the clock is barely creeping along. You entered the Twilight world… you wanted to see the danger and you crossed the boundary between worlds. Time moves more slowly here, everything is different here. This is the world of the Others.»

«I don't believe it.» Egor glanced around quickly, then looked back at me. «Then why's Gray here?»

«The cat?» I smiled. «Animals follow their own laws, Egor. Cats live in all the dimensions at once; for them there is no difference.»

«I don't believe you.» His voice was trembling. «It's all a dream, I know! When the light fades like that… I'm asleep. It's happened to me before.»

«So you've had dreams about turning on the light and the bulb not lighting up?» I already knew the answer, and anyway I could read it in the boy's eyes. «Or it lights up, but only very, very faintly, like a candle? And you're walking along with the Darkness swaying all around you, and you hold out your hand and you can't even make out your own fingers?»

He didn't answer.

«That happens to all of us, Egor. Every Other has dreams like that. It's the Twilight world creeping into us, calling us, reminding us about itself. You are an Other. Still a young one, but you are. And you're the only one…«

I didn't realize immediately that his eyes were closed and his head was slumped to one side.

«You idiot,» Olga hissed from my shoulder. «This is the first time he's entered the Twilight independently! He hasn't got the strength for this! Pull him out quickly, or he'll stay here forever!»

Twilight coma is a novice's problem. I'd almost forgotten about it, because I'd never worked with young Others.

«Egor!» I leapt across and shook him, grabbing him under the shoulders. He was light, very light—it's not only the movement of time that changes in the Twilight world. «Wake up!»

The boy didn't respond. He'd already done what it takes others months of training to do—entered the Twilight on his own. And the Twilight world just loves to suck the strength out of you.

«Pull him out!» said Olga, taking command of the situation. «He won't wake up himself.»

I'd done the emergency rescue courses, but I'd never had to drag anyone out of the Twilight for real.

«Egor, snap out of it!» I slapped him on the cheeks. Gently at first, then I started putting real force into it. «Come on, kid. You're slipping away into the Twilight world! Wake up!»

He was getting lighter and lighter, melting away in my arms. The Twilight was drinking his life, sucking out his final ounces of strength. The Twilight was changing his body, claiming it as permanent resident. What had I done?

«Seal yourself off!» Olga's sharp voice focused my mind. «Seal yourself off, and him too…«

It always used to take me more than a minute to form a sphere. This time I did it in five seconds flat. I felt a stab of pain—as if a small shell had exploded inside my head. I threw back my head when the sphere of exclusion emerged from my body, shrouding me like a shimmering soap bubble. The bubble expanded, reluctantly enveloping me and the boy.

«That's it; now hold it there. I can't do anything to help you, Anton. Hold that sphere!»

Olga was wrong. She'd already helped me, with her advice. I'd probably have realized that I ought to form a sphere, but I could have lost precious seconds in the process.

It started getting lighter. The Twilight was still draining our strength—mine with an effort, the boy's with ease—but now it only had a few cubic meters of space to operate with. The ordinary laws of physics don't apply here, but there are parallels. A balance was being established between our living bodies and the Twilight.

Either the Twilight would dissolve and release its prey or the boy would remain an inhabitant of the Twilight world. Forever. It's what happens to magicians who have pushed themselves beyond the limit, either through carelessness or because they had no choice. It's what happens with novices who don't know how to protect themselves against the Twilight properly and allow it to take more than they should.

I looked at Egor. His face was turning gray. He was slipping away into the infinite expanses of the shadow world.

I threw the boy across my right arm, took a penknife out of my left pocket, and opened the blade with my teeth.

«That's dangerous,» Olga warned me.

I didn't answer. I just slashed my wrist.

When the blood spurted out, the twilight hissed like a red-hot frying pan. Everything went blurred. It wasn't just the loss of the blood; my very life was seeping away with it. I'd ruptured my own defenses against the Twilight.

But the dose of energy was too large for it to absorb.

The world turned brighter; my shadow jumped onto the floor and I stepped through it. The rainbow film of the sphere of exclusion burst, releasing us into the everyday world.

Chapter 5

A thin stream of blood splashed onto the carpet. The boy was slumped in my arms, still unconscious, but his face was returning to pink. The cat was screeching in the next room as if its throat were being cut.

I lowered Egor onto the couch, sat down beside him, and said:

«Olga, a bandage…«

The owl launched off my shoulder and dashed away like a white streak into the kitchen. She must have slipped into the Twilight on the way, because she was back in a few seconds with a bandage in her beak.

Egor opened his eyes just at the moment when I took the bandage from the owl and started binding up my wrist. He asked:

«Who's that?»

«An owl. Surely you can see that!»

«What happened to me?» he asked. His voice was hardly trembling at all.

«You lost consciousness.»

«Why?» His eyes wandered anxiously over the traces of blood on the floor and my clothes. I'd managed not to get any on Egor.

«It's my blood,» I explained. «I cut myself by accident. You have to be careful when you enter the Twilight, Egor. It's an alien environment, even for us, the Others. While we're in the Twilight world, we have to expend our strength constantly, feeding its vital energy. But a little at a time. If you don't keep control of the process, the Twilight will suck all the life out of you. It's just a price we have to pay.»

«And I paid more than I should have?»

«More than you had. And you almost stayed in the Twilight world forever. It's not death—but maybe it's worse than death.»

«Let me help…« The boy winced as he sat up—he must have felt dizzy. I held out my hand and he started bandaging my wrist, clumsily but trying hard. The boy's aura hadn't changed, it was still iridescent, neutral. He'd already entered the Twilight, but it hadn't left its mark.

«Do you believe I'm your friend?» I asked.

«I don't know. Not my enemy, I suppose. Or you can't do anything to me!»

I reached out and touched the boy's neck and he instantly tensed up. I unfastened the little chain and took it off his neck.

«You see?»

«So you're not a vampire?» His voice was a bit husky.

«No. But that's not why I could touch the garlic and the silver, Egor. They won't stop a vampire.»

«But in all the films…«

«And in all the films the good guys always beat the bad guys. Listen, kid, superstitions are dangerous; they give people false hope.»

«Isn't there any real hope?»

«No. Not really.» I got up and felt the bandage. Not bad; it was quite tight and holding firm. In half an hour I'd be able to heal the wound with a spell, but I didn't have enough strength yet. The boy looked up at me from the couch. Yes, he was a bit calmer now. But he still didn't trust me. It amused me that he ignored the white owl dozing on the television with an innocent air. It looked as if Olga had influenced his mind after all. That was all to the good: Explaining who the talking white owl was would have been rather tricky.

«Have you got any food?» I asked.

«What kind?»

«Any kind. Tea with sugar. A piece of bread. I used up a lot of strength too.»

«I'll find something. How did you get cut?»

I didn't go into the details, but I didn't lie about it, either.

«It was deliberate. I had to do it to get you out of the Twilight.»

«Thanks. If it's true.»

He was a bit mouthy, but I liked that.

«You're welcome. If you disappeared into the Twilight, my boss would have my head.»

The boy snorted and got up. But he was still keeping his distance from me.

«What boss is that?»

«A very strict one. Well, are you going to pour me some tea?»

«Anything for a good man.» Yes, he was still afraid. And he was hiding his fear by being cocky and familiar.

«Get this straight—I'm not a human being. I'm an Other. And you're an Other.»

«But what's the difference,» said Egor, looking me up and down challengingly. «You don't look any different.»

«Until you give me some tea, I won't say a word. Didn't anyone teach you how to treat guests?»

«Uninvited ones? How did you get in?»

«Through the door. I'll show you. Later.»

«Come on then.» It looked like I was going to get my tea after all. As I set out after the boy, I couldn't help wincing at the smell. I just had to say something.

«You know what, Egor, why don't you wash your neck first.»

The boy shook his head without looking round.

«In any case, it's stupid only to protect your neck. There are five points on the human body where a vampire can bite.»

«Oh yeah?»

«Oh yeah. I mean on a male body, of course.»

Even the back of his neck turned red.

I tipped five heaped spoons of sugar into the mug and winked at Egor:

«Pour me a glass of tea with two spoons of sugar… I want to try it before I die.»

He obviously didn't know that old joke.

«And how many should I take?»

«How much do you weigh?»

«I don't remember.»

I estimated his weight by eye.

«Put four in. To prevent the onset of hypoglycemia.»

He washed his neck after all, but it didn't completely get rid of the smell of garlic. Gulping down his tea, he said:

«Explain!»

This wasn't anything like the way I'd envisioned it. Follow the boy when the Call reached him. Kill or capture the vampire. And take the grateful boy to the boss—who would be able to explain everything properly.

«Once upon a time…« I said, cracking myself up. «Like the beginning of a fairy tale, that, isn't it? Only it isn't a fairy tale.»

«I'm listening.»

«Okay. I'll start with something else. There is a human world.» I nodded toward the window, the little courtyard outside, and the cars crawling along the road. «There it is. All around us. And most people can't move beyond it. That's the way it's always been. But sometimes we turn up. The Others.»

«And vampires?»

«Vampires are Others too. They're a different kind of Other, though; their powers are determined in advance.»

«I don't understand,» said Egor, shaking his head.

Okay, so I'm no tutor. I'm no good at expounding the basic truths; I don't enjoy it…

«Imagine two shamans who have gorged themselves on narcotic mushrooms beating on their tambourines,» I said. «A long, long time ago, back in primeval times. One of the shamans is honestly putting one over on the hunters and the chief. The other suddenly sees his shadow, which was trembling on the floor of the cave, acquire volume and rise up until it stands erect. He takes a step forward and enters the shadow. He enters the Twilight. And that's when the most interesting part begins. You understand?»

Egor didn't say anything.

«The Twilight changes the person who has entered it. It's a different world, and it makes people into Others. But who you become depends entirely on you. The Twilight is a raging river flowing in all directions at once. Decide who you want to be in the Twilight world. But make up your mind quickly; you don't have much time.»

Now the boy understood. His pupils contracted and his skin turned slightly paler. An excellent stress response; he really would make a good operational agent…

«Who can I become?»

«You? Anybody you like. Your choice still hasn't been made. And you know what the basic choice is? Good or Evil. Light or Darkness.»

«And are you good?»

«First and foremost I'm an Other. The difference between Good and Evil lies in your attitude toward ordinary people. If you choose the Light, you won't use your powers for personal gain. If you choose the Darkness, that will be what you do most of the time. But even a black magician is capable of healing people and finding people who have been lost without trace. And a white magician can refuse to help people.»

«Then I don't see what the difference is!»

«You will. You'll understand when you choose one side or the other.»

«I'll never choose!»

«It's too late, Egor. You've already been in the Twilight, and you're already changing. In a couple of days the choice will have been made.»

«If you chose the Light…« Egor got up and poured himself some more tea. I noticed it was the first time he hadn't been afraid to turn his back on me. «Then who are you? A magician?»

«A magician's apprentice. I work in the office of the Night Watch. Someone has to do it.»

«And what can you do? Show me, I want to check.»

There it was, straight out of the textbook. He'd been in the Twilight, but that hadn't convinced him. Petty fairground tricks are far more impressive.

«Watch.»

I held my arm out toward him. Egor froze, trying to understand what was going on. Then he looked at his cup.

The steam had stopped rising from his tea. The tea was crackling as it turned into a cylinder of muddy-brown ice with tea leaves frozen into it.

«Oh,» said the boy.

Thermodynamics is the simple part of manipulating matter. I allowed the Brownian motion to start up again, and the ice boiled. Egor shrieked and dropped his cup.

«Sorry.» I jumped up and grabbed the cloth from the sink, then squatted down to wipe up the puddle on the linoleum.

«Magic's nothing but trouble,» said the boy. «That was a good cup.»

«Just a moment.»

My shadow bounded toward me. I entered the Twilight and looked at the broken pieces. They still remembered the whole, and it hadn't been the cup's destiny to get broken so soon.

Still in the Twilight, I raked the shards together with my hand. A few of the smallest pieces, that had fallen under the stove, eagerly moved a bit closer.

I emerged from the Twilight and put the white cup on the table.

«Now you only need to pour more tea into it.»

«Fantastic.» Apparently this little trick had made a big impression on the kid. «And can you do that with any kind of thing?»

«Almost any kind.»

«Anton… what if the thing was broken a week ago?»

I couldn't help smiling.

«No, sorry, then it's too late. The Twilight gives you a chance, but you have to take it quickly, very quickly.»

Egor's face darkened. I wondered what it was he'd broken a week ago.

«Now do you believe me?»

«Is that magic?»

«Yes. The most primitive kind. It takes almost no effort to learn.»

I probably shouldn't have said that. The boy's eyes lit up. He was already figuring out his prospects. His profit.

Light and Darkness…

«But an experienced magician, he can do other stuff too?»

«Even I can.»

«And control people?»

«Yes,» I said. «Yes, we can do that.»

«And do you? How come terrorists seize hostages? You could creep up in the Twilight without being seen and shoot them. Or make them shoot themselves! How come people die of diseases? Magicians can cure them, you told me so yourself.»

«That would be Good,» I said.

«Of course! But you're the magicians of the Light!»

«If we do any deed that is unconditionally good, it gives the Dark Magicians the right to do an evil deed.»

Egor looked at me in amazement. Too much had happened over the last twenty-four hours for him to take it all in. But he was handling it pretty well.

«Unfortunately, Egor, Evil is stronger by its very nature. Evil is destructive. It's much easier for Evil to destroy than it is for Good to create.»

«Then what do you do? This Night Watch of yours… Do you fight against the Dark Magicians?»

I mustn't answer. I knew that with a devastating clarity, just as I knew I should never have confided in the boy. I should have put him to sleep and withdrawn deeper into the Twilight, but not tried to explain anything to him, not a single thing!

I wouldn't be able to prove anything to him!

«Do you fight against them?»

«Not exactly,» I said. The truth was worse than a lie, but I had no right to tell a lie. «We keep an eye on each other.»

«Getting ready to fight?»

I looked at Egor, thinking what a really bright kid he was. But still a kid. And if I told him now that the great battle between Good and Evil was approaching, that he could be one of the new Jedi of the Twilight world, then he'd be ours.

Only not for long.

«No, Egor. There aren't very many of us.»

«The Light Others? You mean there are more Dark ones?»

Now he was all set to leave home, abandon mom and dad, put on his shining armor and set out to die for the cause of Good…

«There aren't many Others in general. Egor, the battle between Good and Evil has been going on for thousands of years, with the balance shifting all the time. Sometimes Good has won, but if you only knew how many people, who had no idea the Twilight world even exists, were killed in the process. There aren't many Others, but every one of them can get thousands of ordinary people to follow him. Egor… if the battle between Good and Evil breaks out, half the people in the world will be killed. That's why almost fifty years ago a treaty was signed. The Great Treaty between Good and Evil, Darkness and Light.»

His eyes were open really wide.

I sighed and went on:

«It's a short treaty. I'll read it out to you—in the official Russian translation. You already have a right to know.»

I closed my eyes and peered into the darkness. The Twilight swirled into life behind my eyelids. A gray banner unfurled, covered with blazing red letters. The treaty must not be recited from memory; it may only be read:

We are the Others,

We serve different forces,

But in the twilight there is no difference between the absence of darkness and the absence of light.

Our struggle is capable of destroying the world.

We have concluded a Great Treaty, a truce.

Each side shall live according to its own laws,

Each side shall have its own rights.

We delimit our own rights and our own laws.

We are the Others.

We establish the Night Watch,

So that the forces of Light may monitor the forces of Darkness.

We are the Others.

We establish the Day Watch,

So that the forces of Darkness may monitor the forces of Light.

Time will decide for us.

The boy's eyes were even bigger and rounder.

«Light and Darkness live at peace?»

«Yes.»

«Those… the vampires…« He kept coming back over and over again to the same subject. «They're Dark Ones?»

«Yes. They're people who have been totally transformed by the Twilight world. They acquire immense powers, but they lose the gift of life itself. And they can continue existing only by using the energy of other beings. Blood's the most convenient form for transferring it.»

«And they kill people!»

«They can exist on donor's blood. It's like processed foods; it doesn't taste so good, but it is still nutritious. If the vampires just went out hunting…«

«But they attacked me!»

He was only thinking about himself right now… That wasn't good.

«Some vampires break the law. That's why we need the Night Watch, to police the observance of the Treaty.»

«Then… vampires don't just go around hunting people, right?»

I felt a breath of wind against my cheek from invisible wings. The claws dug into my shoulder.

«Now what are you going to tell him, Night Watch agent?» Olga whispered from out of the depths of the Twilight. «Will you risk telling him the truth?»

«Yes, they go hunting,» I said. Then I added the thing that had struck me as most terrible of all five years earlier. «If they have a license. Sometimes… sometimes they need living blood.»

He didn't ask immediately. I could read everything the boy was thinking in his eyes, everything he wanted to ask. And I knew I'd have to answer all the questions.

«Then what do you do?»

«We make sure there's no poaching.»

«Then they could have attacked me… under that treaty of yours? With a license?»

«Yes,» I said.

«They could have drunk my blood? And you would have just walked by and looked the other way?»

Light and Darkness…

I closed my eyes. The Treaty blazed brightly in the gray mist. Stark words, the product of thousands of years of war, costing millions of lives.

«Yes.»

«Go away…«

The boy was as tense as a coiled spring. On the brink of hysteria, on the brink of insanity.

«I came to protect you.»

«Don't bother!»

«The girl-vampire's on the loose. She tried to attack…«

«Go away!»

Olga sighed.

«Now you've done it!»

I stood up. Egor shuddered and moved his stool farther away from me.

«You'll understand someday,» I said. «We have no other option…«

I didn't believe the words I was saying. And it was pointless to argue now. It was getting dark outside; pretty soon it would be hunting time…

The boy followed me, as if he wanted to make sure I left the apartment and didn't hide in the cupboard. I didn't say another word, just opened the door and went out into the stairwell. The door slammed shut behind me.

I walked up one flight and squatted down by the landing window. Olga didn't say anything and neither did I.

You can't just go and reveal the truth like that out of the blue. It's not easy for a normal person even to admit that we exist. But to come to terms with the Treaty…

«There was nothing we could have done,» said Olga. «We underestimated the boy, both his powers and his fear. We were discovered. We were obliged to answer his questions and to tell the truth.»

«Are we drawing up a report?» I asked.

«If you only knew how many reports like that I've drawn up…«

There was a smell of decay from the garbage chute. Outside the noisy street was slowly descending into the evening dusk. The streetlamps were already beginning to flicker. I sat there, toying with my cell phone and wondering if I ought to call the boss now or wait for him to call. Boris Ignatievich was probably observing me.

He was bound to be.

«Don't expect the boss to be able to give you too much help,» said Olga. «He's up to his ears already with that black vortex.»

The phone in my hands started trilling.

«Guess who?» I said as I opened it up.

«Woody Woodpecker. Or Whoopi Goldberg.»

I wasn't in the mood for jokes.

«Yes?»

«Where are you, Anton?»

The boss sounded tired, worn out. I'd never heard him sound like that before.

«On a landing in a big, ugly apartment block. Beside the garbage chute. It's quite warm here, pretty comfortable really.»

«Did you find the boy?» the boss asked, sounding entirely uninterested.

«Yes…«

«Good. I'll send you Tiger Cub and Bear. There's nothing for them to do here anyway. And you come to Perovo. Immediately.»

I was just reaching for my pocket when the boss added:

«If you haven't got any money… or even if you have, stop a militia car and get them to bring you here as fast as they can.»

«Do you really mean that?» I asked.

«Absolutely. You can leave right away.»

I looked out the window into the darkness.

«Boris Ignatievich, it's not a good idea to leave the kid alone. He really is potentially very powerful…«

«I know that… Okay. The guys are on their way. There's no danger to the boy once they're there. Wait for them to arrive, then come straight here immediately.»

He hung up. I folded away my cell phone and squinted sideways at my shoulder.

«What do you make of that, Olga?»

«It's strange.»

«Why? You said yourself they wouldn't be able to handle it.»

«It's strange that he wanted you to go, not me…« Olga said thoughtfully. «Maybe… no, it can't be that. I don't know.»

I took a look through the Twilight and spotted two little specks right on the horizon. The field operatives were hurtling along so fast they would reach me in about fifteen minutes.

«He didn't even ask the address,» I commented gloomily.

«He didn't want to waste any time. Didn't you feel him take the coordinates?»

«No.»

«You need more training, Anton.»

«I don't work in the field.»

«You do now. Let's go downstairs. We'll hear the Call.»

I got up—that spot on the stairs had begun to feel really comfortable, just like home—and set off down the staircase. I was miserable; I had a really bad feeling about this. A door slammed behind my back. I turned around.

«I'm afraid,» Egor said, coming straight to the point.

«Everything's fine.» I started walking back up. «We're guarding you.»

He chewed on his lips, shifting his gaze from me to the gloom of the staircase and back again. He didn't want to let me back into the flat, but he couldn't bear to be alone any longer.

«I think someone's watching me,» he said eventually. «Are you doing that?»

«No. Most likely it's the vampire.»

The boy didn't even shiver. I hadn't told him anything new.

«How does she attack?»

«She can't come in through the door unless she's invited. That's one thing about vampires that the fairy tales have right. You'll feel like you want to go out yourself. In fact, you already want to go out.»

«I won't go out!»

«When she uses the Call, you'll go. You'll understand what's happening, but you'll still go anyway.»

«Can you… can you tell me what to do? Anything?»

Egor had given in. He wanted help, any help he could get.

«lean. Trust us.»

He hesitated only for a second.

«Come in.» Egor stepped back from the door. «Only… Mom will be back from work any moment.»

«What of it?»

«Are you going to hide? What should I tell her?»

«That's no problem,» I said dismissively. «But I…«

The door of the next apartment opened cautiously, just a crack, on the chain. A wrinkled, old woman's face peeped out.

I touched her mind, lightly, just for an instant, as carefully as possible so as not to do any more damage to a reason that was already shaky…

«Ah, it's you…« the old woman said with a beaming smile. «You, you…«

«Anton,» I prompted her politely.

«And there was I wondering who the stranger was, wandering up and down,» said the old granny, taking off the chain and coming out onto the landing. «The times we live in, the outrageous things people get up to, they just do whatever they like…«

«It's all right. Everything's going to be all right. Why don't you watch TV, there's a new series just starting.»

The old woman nodded, shot me a friendly glance, and disappeared into her apartment.

«What series?» asked Egor.

I shrugged.

«I don't know. There must be something. Isn't there always some soap opera or other?»

«And how do you know our neighbor?»

«Me? Her? I don't.»

The boy said nothing.

«Just one of those little things,"' I explained. «We are the Others. And I won't come in, thanks; I have to go away now.»

«What?»

«There'll be different guards here to look after you, Egor. And don't worry—they're far more professional than I am.»

I took a glance through the Twilight; two bright orange lights were just approaching the entrance of the building.

«I… I don't want them,» said the boy, panicking immediately. «I want you to stay!»

«I can't. I have another assignment.»

Down below the entrance door slammed and there was a clatter of footsteps on the stairs. The action heroes disdained the elevator.

«I don't want them!» Egor grabbed hold of the door as if he'd decided to shut himself in. «I don't trust them!»

«You either trust all of the Night Watch or you don't trust anybody,» I told him strictly. «We're not supermen in red and blue cloaks who work alone. We're just employees. The police of the Twilight world. What I say goes for the Night Watch.»

«But who are they?» The kid was beginning to accept it. «Magicians?»

«Yes, but highly specialized ones.»

Tiger Cub appeared below me on the bend of the staircase.

«Hi there, guys!» the girl exclaimed cheerfully, bounding up an entire flight in a single leap.

It was a superhuman leap. Egor winced and took a step backward, gazing watchfully at Tiger Cub. I shook my head: The girl was clearly poised on the very edge of transformation. She was enjoying it, and just at that moment she had good reason to be feeling frisky.

«How are things over there?» I asked.

Tiger Cub sighed loudly and then smiled:

«Oh… a laugh a minute. Everybody's in a panic. You get going, Antoshka, they're waiting for you… So it's you I'm looking after, right?»

The boy looked her over without saying anything. To be honest, the boss had made a great choice when he decided to get Tiger Cub to protect him. Everyone, from young children to old folks, liked her and trusted her. They do say even some of the Dark Ones have sometimes been charmed by her. But then, that was their mistake…

«No one's looking after me,» the boy answered at last. «My name's Egor.»

«And I'm Tiger Cub,» said the girl, already inside the apartment. She gave the kid a friendly hug around the shoulders. «Show me around the battlefield! Let's start preparing our defenses!»

I started down the stairs, shaking my head as I went. In five minutes Tiger Cub would be showing the kid how she got her name.

«Hi,» Bear rumbled as he walked up toward me.

«Hi.» We shook hands quickly. Of all the Watch agents, Bear was the one I was leery of.

Bear was a little bit taller than average, strongly built, with a face that gave absolutely nothing away. He didn't like to talk a lot. Nobody knew where he spent his time when he wasn't working, or where he lived, except maybe Tiger Cub. There were rumors that he wasn't even a magician, but a shape-shifter. They said that first he used to work for Day Watch and then, during some mission, he suddenly switched over to our side. But that was all a load of nonsense. Light Ones don't become Dark Ones, and Dark Ones don't turn into Light Ones. But there was something about Bear that made you stop and wonder.

«Your car's waiting,» the field agent told me without bothering to stop. «The driver's a real ace. You'll be there before you know it.»

Bear had a slight stammer, so he kept his sentences short. He was in no hurry; Tiger Cub was already on guard. But I had no time to hang around.

«Are things tough over there?» I asked, walking faster. The answer came from above me now:

«Worse than that.»

I bounded down several steps at a time and dashed out of the entrance. The car was standing there all right—I slowed down for a moment to admire it. A classy maroon-colored BMW, the latest model, with a flashing light carelessly stuck on the roof. Both doors on the side facing the building were open. The driver was leaning out of the car, hastily smoking a cigarette, and I could just make out the bulge of a holster under the flap of his jacket. Standing by the back door was an absolutely monumental middle-aged man. Under his open coat he was wearing a very expensive suit, with a Duma deputy's badge glinting on his lapel. The man was speaking on his cell phone:

«Who is he anyway? I'll get there when I can! What! What damned girls? Have you gone crazy? Can't you do a single thing on your own?»

The deputy squinted at me, cut short his conversation without saying goodbye, and got into the car. The driver took a deep drag, tossed his cigarette away, and grabbed hold of the wheel. The engine howled softly, and I barely had time to get into the front seat before the car moved away. Icy branches scraped across the outside of the door.

«You gone blind, or something?» the deputy barked at his driver, though I was the one to blame for what had happened. But as soon as the owner of the car turned to face me his tone changed: «You need to get to Perovo?»

It was the first time I'd ever taken a ride with a representative of authority. And this guy was either a top man in the militia or a gangland boss. I realized in theory that there was no difference as far as a Night Watch agent's powers were concerned, but I'd never tried to experiment before.

«Yes, back to where the guys came from. And make it quick…«

«Hear that, Volodya?» the deputy said to the driver. «Step on it!»

Volodya stepped on it so hard I started feeling a bit queasy, and I even glanced into the Twilight to see if we were going to get there.

It seemed like we were. Only not just because of our driver's skill or because, like any Night Watch agent, I have an artificially elevated success coefficient. It looked like someone had gone through the probability field, weeding out all the accidents, traffic jams, and overzealous traffic cops.

The only person in our department who could have done that was the boss himself. But what for?

«I'm feeling a bit frightened too,» whispered the invisible bird on my shoulder. «When I was with Count…«

She stopped short, as if she'd realized she was speaking a bit too freely.

The car drove through a red light at an intersection, following an incredible twisting course, dodging between the saloons and station wagons. Someone at a bus stop waved a hand in our direction.

«Like a sip?» the Duma deputy inquired amiably, holding out a small bottle of Rémy Martin and a throwaway plastic cup. It looked so funny, I poured myself thirty grams without even thinking about it. Even at that speed the car was providing a smooth ride; the cognac didn't spill.

I handed back the bottle, nodded, took the Walkman earphones out of my pocket, put them in and started the disc. Out came this really, really old song, «Sundays»—my favorite.

It was a small town, no bigger than a child's toy,

There'd been no plagues or invasions there since long ago.

The cannon rusted in silence on its fortress tower,

And the travelers' roads passed it by.

And so year after year, no holidays or working days—

The whole town slept,

Dreaming dreams of lands with empty cities

And dead cliffs…

We came out onto the main highway. The car just kept on picking up speed; I'd never traveled that fast in Moscow before. Or anywhere else, for that matter… If the probability field hadn't been cleared, I'd have made them slack off, but it was pretty terrifying anyway.

The music sounded among the cold cliffs,

While the town slept…

Calling to where?

Calling to whom?

That no one knew…

I couldn't help remembering that a member of the Romanov royal family was an Other. Only he wasn't initiated; he'd been spotted too late… They'd offered him the chance, but he'd refused.

That's one option.

I wondered how often he heard this music in the night.

All who left their windows open in the hot night Are gone now.

Gone away to seek a land where life is full of life,

Following the song…

«Like some more?» The deputy was Mister Conviviality himself. I wondered what suggestions Bear and Tiger Cub had implanted in his mind. That I was his best friend? That he was eternally in my debt? That I was the president's illegitimate, but favorite, son?

But that's all nonsense. There are hundreds of different ways of making people trust you and like you and want to help you. The Light has its own methods, but unfortunately the Darkness has plenty as well. It's all nonsense.

The question was: What did the boss need me for so badly?

Chapter 6

Ilya was waiting for me beside the road, standing there with his hands stuck in his pockets, staring up in disgust at the sky through the flurry of fine snowflakes.

«You took your time,» was all he said after I'd shaken the deputy's hand and got out of the car. «The boss is getting impatient.»

«What's going on here?»

Ilya grinned, but it wasn't his usual cheerful smile.

«You'll see… let's go.»

We set off along a trampled path, overtaking women with shopping bags rambling home from the supermarket. How strange it is that we have supermarkets now, just like the genuine article. But people still walk the same old tired way, as if they'd spent an hour standing in line for little blue corpses called chickens…

«Is it far?» I asked.

«If it was, we'd have taken a car.»

«How did our playboy make out? Couldn't he handle it?»

«Ignat tried his best,» was all Ilya said. I felt a brief pang of vengeful satisfaction, as if it were in my interest for handsome Ignat to screw up. If a mission required it, he was usually in someone else's bed within two hours after his assignment was set.

«The boss has declared a state of readiness for evacuation,» Ilya suddenly said.

«What?»

«At a moment's notice. If the vortex isn't stabilized, the Others quit Moscow.»

He was walking ahead of me; I couldn't look into his eyes. But what reason would Ilya have to lie…

«And is the vortex still…« I began. Then I stopped. I could see it.

Above the dismal nine-story block facing us, a black tornado was revolving slowly against the background of the dark, snowy sky.

You couldn't call it a twister or a vortex any longer. It was a tornado. It rose up out of the next building, hidden by the one we could see. And judging from the side angle of the dark cone, it started almost down on the ground.

«Damnation…« I whispered.

«Watch what you say,» Ilya snapped. «It could easily come true.»

«It's thirty meters high…«

«Thirty-two. And still growing…«

I cast a hasty glance at my shoulder and saw Olga sitting there. She'd emerged from the Twilight.

Have you ever seen a bird frightened? Frightened like a human being?

The owl looked ruffled. Can feathers really stand on end? There was an orange-yellow flame blazing in her amber eyes.

The shoulder of my poor jacket was torn into tiny shreds, and the claws continued scraping, as if they wanted to scrape right through to my body.

«Olga!»

Ilya turned back and nodded:

«Now you see… The boss says the vortex at Hiroshima wasn't that high.»

The owl flapped its wings and soared smoothly into the air, without a sound. A woman shrieked behind me—I swung around and saw a stupefied face, glazed eyes following the bird's flight in amazement.

«It's a crow,» Ilya said quietly, half-turning his head to glance at the woman. His reactions were far quicker than mine. A moment later the accidental witness was overtaking us, muttering about the narrow path and people who liked to block the way.

«Is it growing fast?» I asked, with a nod at the tornado.

«In bursts. But it's stabilizing now. The boss called Ignat off just in time. Come on…«

The owl made a wide circle around the tornado, then flew lower and over our heads. Olga still looked very self-possessed, but her careless emergence from the twilight showed how agitated she really was.

«Why, what did he do wrong?»

«Nothing really… except for being overconfident. He got to know her. Then he started forcing things along and that made the twister start to grow… and how!»

«I don't understand,» I said, confused. «It can only grow that way if it's being fed with energy by the magician who summoned up the Inferno…«

«That's the whole point. Someone must have tracked Ignat and started shoveling coal in the firebox. This way…«

We went into the entrance of the building that stood between us and the vortex. The owl flew in after us at the last moment. I gave Ilya a puzzled look, but I didn't ask any questions. Anyway, it was clear soon enough what we were there for.

An operations center had been set up in an apartment on the first floor. The heavy steel door, firmly closed in the human world, was standing wide open in the Twilight. Without stopping, Ilya dived into the Twilight and walked through. I fumbled for a few seconds, raising my shadow, and followed him.

It was a large apartment, with four rooms, all very comfortable. But it was also noisy, smoky, and hot.

There were more than twenty Others there, including field operatives and us backroom boys. No one took any notice when I arrived; they just glanced at Olga. I realized that the old Watch members knew her, but no one made any attempt to say hello or smile at the white owl.

What could she have done?

«Go through into the bedroom; the boss is in there,» Ilya said briskly, turning off into the kitchen, where I could hear glasses clinking. Maybe they were drinking tea, or maybe it was something a bit stronger. I glanced in quickly as I passed and saw I was right. They were reanimating Ignat with cognac. Our ladies' man looked completely wiped out, crushed. It was a long time since he'd suffered this kind of failure.

I walked on by, pushed open the first door I came to, and looked inside.

It was the children's room. A child of about five was sleeping on a little bed, and his parents and teenage sister were on the carpet beside it. Clear enough. The owners of the apartment had been put into a sound, healthy sleep so they wouldn't get under our feet. We could have set up the entire operations office in the Twilight, but why waste all that energy?

Someone slapped me on the shoulder and I looked around—it was Semyon.

«The boss is that way,» he told me. «Come on…«

It seemed that everyone knew I was expected.

When I entered the next room, I was taken aback for just a moment.

There couldn't be any more absurd sight than a Night Watch operations center set up in a private apartment.

There was a medium-size magic ball hanging in the air above a dressing table stacked with cosmetics and piled high with costume jewelry. The ball was transmitting a view of the vortex from above. Lena, our best operator, was sitting on an ottoman beside it, silent and intense. Her eyes were closed, but when I came in she raised one hand slightly in greeting.

Okay, so that was normal. Ball operators see space in its totality; there's no way to hide anything from them.

The boss was reclining on the bed, propped up with pillows.

He was wearing a brightly colored robe, soft oriental slippers, and an embroidered skullcap. The room was filled with the sweet fumes of a portable hookah. The white owl was sitting in front of him. It looked like they were communicating nonverbally.

That was all normal, too. In moments of exceptional stress, the boss always reverted to the habits he'd picked up in Central Asia. He worked there at the end of the nineteenth century and the start of the twentieth, first disguised as a mufti, then as a Muslim guerrilla leader, and then as a red commissar, and finally he spent ten years as the secretary of a district party committee.

Danila and Farid were standing by the window. Even with my powers I could make out the purple glimmer of the magic wands hidden in their sleeves.

A perfectly standard arrangement. At moments like this the headquarters would never be left unprotected. Danila and Farid weren't the strongest fighters we had, but they were experienced, and that was often more important than crude strength.

But what was I supposed to make of the final Other who was in the room?

He was squatting modestly and unobtrusively in the corner. As thin as a rake with sunken cheeks, black hair cut short, military style, and big, sad eyes. It was impossible to tell how old he was, maybe thirty, maybe three hundred. He was dressed in a loose-fitting gray suit. A human being would probably have taken the stranger for a member of some small sect. And he would have been half right.

He was a Dark Magician. And a top-flight one too. When he glanced briefly at me, I felt my protective shell—which wasn't installed by me!—crack and start to buckle.

I took an involuntary step backward. But the magician had already lowered his eyes to the floor as if to show me that the momentary probing had been accidental…

«Boris Ignatievich.» I could hear my voice wheezing slightly.

The boss nodded curtly, then he turned to the Dark Magician, who immediately fixed his eyes on the boss.

«Give him an amulet,» the boss ordered brusquely.

The Dark Magician's voice was sad and quiet, the voice of someone burdened with all the woes of the world.

«I'm not doing anything forbidden by the Treaty…«

«Neither am I. My colleagues must be immune against observers.»

So that was it! We had an observer from the Dark Side in our headquarters. That meant Day Watch had a headquarters somewhere close by, and one of us was there.

The Dark Magician put his hand in the pocket of his jacket. He took out a carved ivory medallion on a copper chain and held it out to me.

«Throw it,» I said.

The magician smiled gently with the same air of melancholic sympathy and flicked his hand. I caught the medallion. The boss nodded approvingly.

«Your name?» I asked.

«Zabulon.»

I hadn't heard the name before. Either he wasn't that well known, or he was somewhere right up at the top of Day Watch.

«Zabulon…« I repeated, glancing at the amulet. «You no longer have any power over me.»

The medallion grew warm in my hand. I put it on over my shirt, nodded to the Dark Magician, and walked over to the boss.

«You can see how things are, Anton,» the boss said, mumbling slightly, because he didn't take the mouthpiece of the hookah out of his mouth. «There you are, look.»

I looked out the window and nodded.

The black vortex sprouted out of a nine-story block just like the one we were in. Its slim, flexible stalk ended somewhere around the first-floor level. By reaching out through the Twilight, I could locate the precise apartment.

«How could this have happened, Boris Ignatievich?» I asked. «This is a lot more serious than a brick falling on someone's head, or even a gas explosion in a hallway…«

«We're doing everything we can.» The boss seemed to think he had to justify himself to me. «All the missile silos are under our control; the same measures have been taken in America and France, and they're just being put in place in China. Things are a bit trickier with the tactical nuclear weapons. We're having big problems locating all the operational laser satellites. The city's full of all sorts of bacteriological garbage… an hour ago there was almost a leak from the Virological Research Institute.»

«You can't cheat destiny,» I said guardedly.

«Exactly. We're plugging the holes in the bottom of the ship, and the ship's already breaking in half.»

I suddenly noticed that everyone—the Dark Magician, Olga, Lena, and the warriors—was looking at me. I began feeling uncomfortable.

«Boris Ignatievich?»

«You're linked to her.»

«What?»

The boss sighed and took the tube out of his mouth. The cold opium smoke streamed out onto the floor.

«You, Anton Gorodetsky, a programmer, unmarried, of average abilities, are linked to the girl with that vile black filth hanging over her head.»

The Dark Magician in the corner sighed softly. I couldn't think of anything better to say than, «Why?»

«I don't know. We sent Ignat to her, and he did a good job. You know he can seduce absolutely anyone.»

«But it didn't work with her?»

«It did. Only the vortex started to grow. They spent half an hour together and the vortex grew from a meter and a half to twenty-five meters. We had to call him off… quickly.»

I glanced sideways at the Dark Magician. Zabulon appeared to be looking at the floor, but he immediately raised his head. This time my defensive shield didn't react: The amulet gave me secure protection.

«We don't need this,» he said in a low voice. «Only a savage would kill an elephant to get a small steak for his breakfast.»

The comparison shocked me. But he seemed to be telling the truth.

«We don't require destruction on this scale very often,» the Dark Magician continued. «At the moment we don't have any ongoing projects that require such a large-scale discharge of energy.»

«I really hope you don't…« said the boss, in a strange, grating voice. «Zabulon, what you have to understand is that if this disaster does happen… we'll squeeze everything we can out of it too.»

The shadow of a smile appeared on the Dark Magician's face.

«The number of people who will be horrified by what happens, who will spill tears of sympathy with others' grief, will be very great. But there will be more, infinitely more, who will sit with their eyes glued greedily to their TV screens, who will take pleasure in other people's suffering, feel glad that it passed their city by, and make jokes about the retribution meted out to the Third Rome… retribution from on high. You know that, my enemy.»

He wasn't gloating; the highest-ranking Dark Ones don't react in such primitive ways. He was stating a fact.

«Nonetheless, we're ready,» said Boris Ignatievich. «You know that.»

«I know, but we are in a more advantageous position. Unless you have a pair of aces up your sleeve, Boris.»

«You know I always have all four.»

The boss turned toward me as if he'd completely lost all interest in the Dark Magician:

«Anton, the vortex isn't being nourished by the Day Watch. Whoever created it is working on his own, an unknown Dark Magician of hideous strength. He sensed Ignat's presence and accelerated the pace of events. Now you're our only hope.»

«Why?»

«I told you, Anton, you're linked. There are three divergences in the probability field.»

The boss waved his hand and a white screen unfurled in the air. Zabulon frowned; he must have been caught by the edge of the energy discharge.

«The first path along which events can develop,» said the boss. A black stripe ran across the white sheet that hung in the middle of the room without any visible means of support. Then it blurred, spreading out in an ugly blot than extended beyond the edge of the screen.

«This is the most probable path. The vortex attains its maximum power and the Inferno erupts. Millions killed. A global cataclysm—nuclear, biological, asteroid impact, a twenty-point earthquake. You name it.»

«And a direct infernal discharge?» I asked cautiously, glancing sideways at the Dark Magician. His face remained impassive.

«No. I don't think so. The threshold's still a long way off.» The boss shook his head. «Otherwise, I think the Day Watch and the Night Watch would have wiped each other out already. The second path…«

A thin line, leading away from the black stripe. Broken off abruptly.

«Elimination of the target. If the target dies, the vortex will disperse… of its own accord.»

Zabulon stirred and said politely:

«I'm prepared to help with this little initiative. Night Watch cannot carry it out on its own, I believe? We are at your service.»

Silence. Then the boss laughed.

«As you wish,» said Zabulon with a shrug. «I repeat: For the time being we offer you our assistance. We don't want a global catastrophe that will wipe out millions of people in an instant. Not yet.»

«The third path,» said the boss, looking at me. «Watch carefully.»

Another line, branching off from the main root, gradually growing thinner and fading away to nothing.

«That's what happens if you get involved, Anton.»

«What do I have to do?» I asked.

«I don't know. Probability forecasting has never been an exact science. I only know one thing: You can remove the vortex.»

I suddenly had the stupid idea that maybe I was still being tested. A field-work test… I'd killed the vampire, and now… But it couldn't be. Not with such high stakes!

«I've never removed any black vortices.» My voice sounded different, not exactly frightened, more surprised. The Dark Magician Zabulon giggled repulsively, with a woman's voice.

The boss nodded:

«I know that, Anton.»

He stood up, pulled his gown around him, and walked up to me. He looked absurd; his oriental garb seemed like an awkward parody in the setting of an ordinary Moscow apartment.

«Nobody has ever removed any vortices like this one. You'll be the first to try.»

I said nothing.

«And don't forget, Anton, if you mess this up… even just a tiny bit, anything at all… you'll be the first to burn. You won't even have enough time to withdraw into the Twilight. You know what happens to Light Ones when they're caught in an Inferno eruption?»

My throat went dry. I nodded.

«Pardon me, my dear enemy,» Zabulon said mockingly, «but don't you allow your colleagues the right to choose? In such situations, even in wartime, it has always been usual to call for volunteers.»

«We've already made our call for volunteers,» the boss snapped without turning around. «We've all been volunteers for a long time already. And we don't have any choice.»

«But we do. Always.» The Dark Magician laughed again.

«When we acknowledge that human beings have the right to choose, we deprive ourselves of it, Zabulon,» said Boris Ignatievich, with a glance at the Dark Magician. «You're playing to the wrong audience here. Don't interfere.»

«I say no more.» Zabulon lowered his head and shrank down again.

«Give it your best shot,» said the boss. «Anton, I can't give you any advice. Try. I beg you, please, try. And… forget everything you've been taught. Don't believe anything I've said; don't believe what you wrote in your course notes; don't believe your own eyes; don't believe what anyone else says.»

«Then what do I believe, Boris Ignatievich?»

«If I knew that, Anton, I'd walk straight out of this headquarters and across to that entrance myself.»

We both looked out the window at the same moment. The black vortex was still swirling around and around, swaying from side to side. Someone walking along the sidewalk suddenly turned to face into the snow and started making a wide circle around the stalk of the vortex. I noticed a path had already been trodden along the edge of the road: The people couldn't see the Evil straining to strike their world, but they could sense its approach.

«I'll watch Anton,» Olga said, «back him up, and maintain communications contact.»

«From outside,» the boss agreed. «Only from outside… Anton… go. We'll do the best we can to screen you from any kind of observation.»

The white owl flew up off the bed and landed on my shoulder.

I glanced at my friends, then at the Dark Magician—he looked like he'd gone into hibernation—and walked out of the room. The noise in the rest of the apartment faded immediately.

They showed me out in total silence, without any unnecessary words, without any shoulder-slapping or helpful advice. After all, what I was doing wasn't such a big deal. I was only on my way to die.

It was quiet.

Too quiet somehow, even for a bedroom community of Moscow at that late hour. As if everyone had shut themselves in at home, turned out the lights, and huddled down with their head under the blanket, keeping quiet, saying nothing. Quiet, but not sleeping. The only movement was the trembling of the blue and red spots in the windows—the TVs were switched on everywhere. It had become a habit already, when you were afraid, when you were suffering—switch on the TV and watch absolutely anything, from the shopping network to the news.

People can't see the Twilight world. But they are capable of sensing how close it is.

«Olga, what can you tell me about this vortex?»

«Nothing definite.»

So that was it?

I stood in front of the entrance, watching the stalk of the vortex flexing like an elephant's trunk. I didn't feel like going in just yet.

«When… what size of vortex can you extinguish?»

«Five meters high, and I have a shot at it. Three meters and it's a sure thing.»

«And will the girl survive if you do that?»

«She might.»

There was something bothering me. In this unnatural silence, with even the cars in the street trying to avoid this doomed district of the city, there were still some sounds left…

Then it hit me. The dogs were howling. In all the apartments in all the buildings on all sides, the miserable dogs were complaining to their owners—in quiet, pitiful, helpless voices. They could see the Inferno moving closer.

«Olga, information about the girl. All of it.»

«Svetlana Nazarova. Twenty-five years old. Physician, employed in polyclinic number seventeen. Has never previously come to the attention of the Night Watch. Has never previously come to the attention of the Day Watch. No magical powers detected. Her parents and younger brother live in Brateevo; she maintains occasional contact with them, mostly by phone. Four girlfriends, currently being checked, so far nothing exceptional. Relations with other people equable; no serious hostility observed.»

«A doctor,» I said thoughtfully. «That's a lead, Olga. Some old man or old woman dissatisfied… with their treatment. There's usually an upsurge of latent magical powers in the later years of life…«

«That's being checked out,» Olga replied. «So far nothing's turned up.»

There was no point; it was stupid making wild guesses; people cleverer than I am had already been working on the girl for half a day.

«What else?»

«Blood group O. No serious illnesses, occasional mild cardiac arrhythmia. First sexual contact at the age of seventeen, with one of her peers, out of curiosity. She was married four months; has been divorced for two years; relations with her ex-husband have remained equable. No children.»

«The husband's powers?»

«He hasn't any. Neither does his new wife. That's the first thing that was checked.»

«Enemies?»

«Two female ill-wishers at work. Two rejected admirers at work. A school friend who tried to get a fake sick-note six months ago.»

«And?»

«She refused.»

«Well, well. And how much magic have they got?»

«Next to none. Their malevolence quotient is ordinary. They all have only weak magical powers. They couldn't create a vortex like this one.»

«Any patients died? Recently?»

«None.»

«Then where did the curse come from?» I asked myself. Yes, now I could see why the Watch had gotten nowhere with this. Svetlana had turned out to be a goody two-shoes. Five enemies in twenty-five years—that was really something to be proud of.

Olga didn't answer my rhetorical question.

«I've got to go,» I said. I turned toward the windows where I could see the two guards' silhouettes. One of them waved to me. «Olga, how did Ignat try to work this?»

«The standard approach. A meeting in the street, the 'diffident intellectual' line. Coffee in a bar. Conversation. A rapid rise in the mark's attraction. He bought champagne and liqueur; they came here.»

«And after that?»

«The vortex started to grow.»

«And the reason?»

«There was none. She liked Ignat; in fact, she was starting to feel powerfully attracted. But at precisely that moment the vortex started to grow catastrophically fast. Ignat ran through three styles of behavior and managed to get an unambiguous invitation to stay the night. That was when the vortex shifted gear into explosive growth. He was recalled. The vortex stabilized.»

«How was he recalled?»

I was frozen through already, and my boots felt disgustingly damp on my feet. And I still wasn't ready for action.

«The 'sick mother' line. A call to his cell phone, he apologized, promised to call her tomorrow. There were no hitches; the mark didn't get suspicious.»

«And the vortex stabilized?»

Olga didn't answer; she was obviously communicating with the analysts.

«It even shrank a little bit. Three centimeters. But that might just be natural recoil when the energy input's cut off.»

There was something in all this, but I couldn't formulate my vague suspicions clearly.

«Where's her medical practice, Olga?»

«Right here, we're in it. It includes this house. Patients often come to her apartment.»

«Excellent. Then I'll go as a patient.»

«Do you need any help implanting false memories?»

«I'll manage.»

«The boss says okay,» Olga replied after a pause. «Go ahead. Your persona is: Anton Gorodetsky, programmer, unmarried, under observation for three years, diagnosis—stomach ulcer, resident in this building, apartment number sixty-four. It's empty right now; if necessary, we can provide backup on that.»

«Three years is too much for me,» I confessed. «A year. One year, max.»

«Okay.»

I looked at Olga, and she looked at me with those unblinking bird's eyes, and somewhere in there I could still see part of that dirty, aristocratic woman who'd drunk cognac with me in my kitchen.

«Good luck,» she said. «Try to reduce the height of the vortex. Ten meters at least… then I'll risk it.»

The bird flew up into the air and instantly withdrew into the Twilight, down into the very deepest layers.

I sighed and set off toward the entrance of the building. The trunk of the vortex swayed as it tried to touch me. I stretched my hands out, folding them into the Xamadi, the sign of negation.

The vortex shuddered and recoiled. Not really afraid, just playing by the rules. At that size the advancing Inferno should already have developed powers of reason, stopped being a mindless, target-seeking missile, and become a ferocious, experienced kamikaze. I know that sounds odd—an experienced kamikaze—but when it comes to the Darkness, the term's justified. Once it breaks through into the human world, an inferno vortex is doomed, but it's only a single wasp in a huge swarm that dies.

«Your hour hasn't come yet,» I said. The Inferno wasn't about to answer me, but I felt like saying it anyway.

I walked past the stalk. The vortex looked like it was made of blue-black glass that had acquired the flexibility of rubber. Its outer surface was almost motionless, but deep inside, where the dark blue became impenetrable darkness, I could vaguely see a furious spinning motion.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe its hour had come…

The entrance didn't even have a coded lock. Or rather, it had one, but it had been smashed and gutted. That was normal. A little greeting from the Darkness. I'd already stopped paying any attention to its little tricks, even stopped noticing the words and the dirty paw tracks on walls, the broken lamps and the fouled elevators. But now I was wound up tight.

I needn't have asked the address. I could sense the girl—I kept on thinking about her as a girl, even though she'd been married. I knew which way to go; I could even see her apartment, or rather, not see it but perceive it as a whole.

The only thing I didn't understand was how I was going to get rid of that damned twister…

I stopped in front of the door. It was an ordinary one, not metal, very unusual on the first floor, especially in a building where the lock at the entrance is broken. I gave a deep sigh and rang the bell. Eleven o'clock. A bit late, of course.

I heard steps. There was no sound insulation…

Chapter 7

She opened the door right away.

She didn't ask who it was; she didn't look through the spyhole; she didn't put on the chain. In Moscow! And at night! Alone in her apartment! The vortex was devouring the final remnants of the girl's caution, the caution that had kept her alive for several days. That was usually the way people died when they had been cursed…

But to look at, Svetlana still seemed normal. Except maybe for the shadows under her eyes, but who knew what kind of a night she'd had? And the way she was dressed—a skirt, a stylish blouse, heels—as if she were expecting someone or was all set to go out.

«Good evening, Svetlana,» I said, already noticing a faint gleam of recognition in her eyes. Of course, she had a vague memory of me from the previous day. And I had to exploit that moment when she'd already realized we knew each other but still hadn't remembered from where.

I reached out through the Twilight. Cautiously, because the vortex was hanging right there above the girl's head as if it were tethered to her, and it could react at any second. Cautiously, because I didn't really want to deceive her.

Not even if it was for her own good.

It's only the first time that's interesting and funny. If you still find it amusing after that, the Night Watch is the wrong place for you. It's one thing to shift someone's moral imperatives, especially when it's always toward the Good. It's quite another to interfere with their memory. It's inevitable; it has to be done; it's part of the Treaty; and through the very process of entering and leaving the Twilight we induce a momentary amnesia in the people around us.

But if you ever start to enjoy toying with someone else's memory—it's time you quit the Watch.

«Good evening, Anton.» Her voice blurred slightly when I forced her to remember things that had never happened. «What's happened?»

I smiled sourly and slapped myself on the stomach. By now there was a hurricane raging in Svetlana's memory. My control wasn't so great that I could implant a fully structured false memory in her mind. Fortunately, in this case I could just give her a couple of hints, and from then on she deceived herself. She put my image together out of one old acquaintance I happened to resemble and another person she'd known and liked even earlier than that, but not for long, as well as a couple of dozen patients my age and some of her neighbors in the building. I only gave the process a gentle nudge, helping Svetlana toward an integrated image. A good man… a neurasthenic… quite often unwell… flirts a bit, but no more than a bit—very unsure of himself… lives on the next stairwell.

«You have pain?» She gathered her thoughts. She really was a good doctor, with a real vocation.

«A bit. I had a drink yesterday,» I said, trying to look repentant.

«Anton, I warned you… come in…«

I went in and closed the door—the girl hadn't even bothered about that. While I was taking off my coat, I had a quick look around, in the ordinary world and in the Twilight.

Cheap wallpaper, a tattered rug on the floor, an old pair of boots, a light bulb in a simple glass shade on the ceiling, a radio telephone on the wall—cheap Chinese junk. Modest. Clean. Ordinary. And the important thing here wasn't that the profession of district doctor doesn't pay very well. It was more that she didn't feel any need for comfort. That was bad… very bad.

In the Twilight world the apartment made a slightly better impression. No repulsive plant life, no trace of the Darkness. Apart from the black vortex, of course, just hanging there… I could see the entire thing, from the stalk, swirling around above the girl's head, up to the broad mouth, thirty meters higher.

I followed Svetlana through into the only room. At least things were a bit more cozy in here. The couch had a warm orange glow—not all of it though, just the spot by the old-fashioned standard lamp. Two walls were covered with single-box bookshelves stacked on top of each other, seven shelves high… Clear enough.

I was beginning to understand her, not just as a professional target and a potential victim of a Dark Magician, not just as the unwitting cause of a catastrophe, but as a person. An introverted, bookish child, with a mass of complexes and her head full of crazy ideals and a childish faith in the beautiful prince who was searching for her and would surely find her. Work as a doctor, a few girlfriends, a few male friends, and a great deal of loneliness. Conscientious work almost in the spirit of a builder of communism, occasional visits to the cafe and occasional loves. And each evening like every other one, on the couch, with a book, with the phone lying beside her, with the television muttering something soapy and comforting.

How many of you there still are, girls and boys of various ages, raised by naive parents in the sixties. How many of you there are, so unhappy, not knowing how to be happy. How I long to take pity on you, how I long to help you. To touch you through the Twilight—gently, with no force at all. To give you just a little confidence in yourself, just a tiny bit of optimism, a gram of willpower, a crumb of irony. To help you, so that you could help others.

But I can't.

Every action taken by Good grants permission for an active response by Evil. The Treaty! The Watches! The balance of peace in the world?

I have to live with it or go crazy, break the law, walk through the crowd handing out unsolicited gifts, changing destinies, wondering which corner I'll turn and find my old friends and eternal enemies, waiting to dispatch me into the Twilight. Forever…

«Anton, how's your mother?»

Ah, yes. As Anton Gorodetsky, the patient, I had an old mother. She had osteochondrosis and a full set of old folks' ailments. She was Svetlana's patient too.

«Not too bad, she's okay. I'm the one who's…«

«Lie down.»

I pulled off my shirt and sweater and lay down on the couch. Svetlana squatted down beside me. She ran her warm fingers over my stomach and even palpated my liver.

«Does that hurt?»

«No… not now.»

«How much did you drink?»

As I replied to the girl's questions, I looked for the answers in her mind. No need to make it look like I was dying. Yes… I had dull pains, not too sharp… After food… I'd just had a little twinge…

«So far it's just gastritis, Anton…« said Svetlana, taking her hands away. «But that's bad enough, you know that. I'll write you a prescription…«

She got up, walked to the door, and took her purse off the hanger.

All this time I was observing the vortex. There was nothing happening; my arrival hadn't triggered any intensification in the Inferno, but it hadn't done anything to weaken it either…

»Anton …« I recognized the voice coming through the Twilight as Olga's. «Anton, the vortex has lost three centimeters of height. You must have made a right move somewhere. Think, Anton .»

A right move? When? I hadn't done anything except invent a reason to visit!

«Anton, do you have any of your ulcer medicine left?» Svetlana asked, looking across at me from the table. I nodded as I tucked in my shirt.

«Yes, a few capsules.»

«When you get home, take one. And buy some more tomorrow. Then take them for two weeks, before sleep.»

Svetlana was obviously one of those doctors who believe in pills. That didn't bother me, I believed in them too. All of us—the Others, that is—have an irrational awe of science; even in cases when elementary magical influence would do the job, we reach out for the painkillers and the antibiotics.

«Svetlana… I hope you don't mind me asking,» I said, looking away guiltily. «Have you got problems of some kind?»

«Where did you get that idea, Anton?» she asked, continuing to write and not even glancing in my direction. But she tensed up.

«Just a feeling. Has someone offended you somehow?»

The girl put down her pen and looked at me with curiosity and gentle sympathy in her eyes.

«No, Anton. There's nothing. I expect it's just the winter. The winter's too long.»

She gave a forced smile and the Inferno vortex swayed above her head, shifting its stalk greedily…

«The sky's gray, the world's gray. And I don't feel like doing anything… everything seems meaningless. I'm tired, Anton. It'll pass when spring comes.»

«You're depressed, Svetlana,» I blurted out before I realized that I'd drawn the diagnosis out of her own memory. But she didn't pay any attention.

«Probably. Never mind, when the sun peeps out… Thanks for feeling concerned, Anton.»

This time her smile was more genuine, but it was still pained.

I heard Olga's voice whispering through the Twilight:

«Anton, it's down ten centimeters! The vortex is losing height! The analysts are working on it, Anton. Keep talking to her!»

What was I doing right?

That question was more terrifying than «What am I doing wrong?» Make a mistake, and all you have to do is make a sharp change of approach. But if you've hit the target without knowing how you did it, then you're in a real fix. It's tough being a bad shot who's hit the bull's-eye by chance, struggling to remember how you moved your hands and screwed up your eyes, how much pressure your finger applied to the trigger… and not wanting to believe that the bullet was directed to the target by a random gust of wind.

I caught myself sitting and looking at Svetlana. And she was looking at me. Seriously, without speaking.

«I'm sorry,» I said. «I'm sorry, Svetlana, forgive me. I came barging in late in the evening, and now I'm interfering in your private life…«

«That's all right, Anton. Actually, I like it. How would you like some tea?»

«Down twenty centimeters, Anton! Say yes!»

Even those few centimeters skimmed off the height of the vortex were a gift from the gods. They were human lives. Tens or even hundreds of lives snatched away from the inevitable catastrophe. I didn't know how I was doing it, but I was increasing Svetlana's resistance to the Inferno. And the vortex was beginning to melt away.

«Thanks, Svetlana. I'd love some.»

The girl got up and went into the kitchen. I followed her. What was going on here?

«Anton, we have a provisional analysis…«

I thought I glimpsed the white silhouette of a bird through the curtained window—it flitted on along the wall, following Svetlana.

»Ignat followed the usual plan. Compliments, interest, infatuation, love. She liked it, but it made the vortex grow. You're using a different approach —sympathy. Passive sympathy .»

No recommendations followed, which meant the analysts hadn't reached any conclusions yet. But at least now I knew what I had to do next: look at her sadly, smile sympathetically, drink tea, and say: «Your eyes look tired, Sveta…«

We'd be talking to each other like friends, right? Of course we would. I was certain of that.

«Anton?»

I'd been staring at her too long. Svetlana was standing by the stove, not moving, holding a kettle with its shiny surface dulled by condensation. She wasn't exactly frightened, that feeling was already beyond her, completely drained out of her by the black vortex. It was more like she was embarrassed.

«Is something wrong?» she asked.

«Yes. It feels awkward, Svetlana. I just turned up in the middle of the night, dumped my problems on you, and now I'm hanging around, waiting for tea…«

«Anton, please stay. You know, I've had such a strange day, and being here alone… Let's call it my fee for the consultation, shall we? That is… you staying for a while and talking to me,» she explained hastily.

I nodded. Any word might be a mistake.

«The vortex has shrunk another fifteen centimeters. You've chosen the right tactic, Anton!»

But I hadn't chosen anything, why couldn't those lousy analysts understand that! I'd used the powers of an Other to enter someone else's home; I'd interfered with someone else's memory so I could stay there longer… and now I was just going with the flow.

And hoping the current would bring me out where I needed to be.

«Would you like some jam, Anton?»

«Yes…«

A mad tea party! Move over, Lewis Carroll! The maddest tea parties aren't the ones in the rabbit's burrow, with the Mad Hatter, the Sleepy Dormouse, and the March Hare around the table.

A small kitchen in a small apartment, tea left over from the morning, topped up with boiling water, raspberry jam from a three-liter jar—this is the stage on which unknown actors play out genuinely mad tea parties. This is the place, the only place where they say the words that they would never say otherwise. This is where they pull nasty little secrets out of the darkness with a conjuror's flourish, where they take the family skeletons out of the closet, where they discover the cyanide sprinkled in the sugar bowl. And you can never find a reason to get up and leave, because every time they pour you more tea, offer you jam, and move the sugar bowl a bit closer…

«Anton, I've known you for a year already…«

A shadow, a brief, perplexed shadow in the girl's eyes. Her memory obligingly fills in the blanks, her memory hands her explanations for why a man as likeable and good as me is still no more than her patient.

«Only from my work, of course, but now… I feel I'd like to talk to you somehow… as a neighbor. As a friend. Is that okay?»

«Of course, Sveta.»

A grateful smile. It's not so easy to use the familiar form of my name. From Anton to Antoshka is too big a step.

«Thank you, Anton. You know… I just don't know where I am. For the last three days now.»

Of course, it's not so easy to know where you are when you have the sword of Nemesis hanging over you. Blind, furious Nemesis, escaped from the power of the dead gods…

«Today… never mind…«

She wanted to tell me about Ignat. She didn't understand what was happening to her, why a chance encounter had almost gotten all the way to the bed. She felt like she was going insane. Everybody who comes within the Others' sphere of activity has thoughts like that.

«Svetlana, perhaps… perhaps you've fallen out with someone?»

That was a crude move. But I was in a hurry. I didn't even know why myself; so far the vortex was stable, it was even shrinking. But I was in a hurry.

«Why do you think that?»

Svetlana wasn't surprised and she didn't think the question was too personal. I shrugged and tried to explain:

«It often happens to me.»

«No, Anton. I haven't fallen out with anyone. I've no one to fall out with, and no reason. It's something inside me…«

That's where you're wrong, girl, I thought. You've no idea how wrong you are. Black vortices the size of the one hanging over you appear only once in every hundred years. And that means someone hates you with the kind of power rarely granted to anyone… even to an Other.

«You probably need a vacation,» I suggested. «To get away somewhere… far away to the back of beyond…«

When I said that, I realized there was a solution to the problem after all. Maybe not a complete solution; it would still be fatal for Svetlana. She could go away. Out into the taiga or the tundra, to the North Pole. And then it would happen there—the volcano would erupt, the asteroid would hit, or the cruise missile with the nuclear warheads would strike. The Inferno would erupt, but Svetlana would be the only one to suffer.

It's a good thing that solutions like that are as impossible for us as the murder suggested by the Dark Magician.

«What are you thinking, Anton?»

«Sveta, what's happened to you?»

«Too abrupt, Anton! Steer the conversation away from that, Anton!»

«Is it really that obvious?»

«Yes.»

Svetlana lowered her eyes. Any moment I was expecting Olga to shout that the black vortex had begun its final, catastrophic spurt of growth, that I'd ruined everything, and now I'd have thousands of human lives on my conscience forever… but Olga didn't say a word.

«I betrayed…«

«What?»

«I betrayed my mother.»

She looked at me seriously, not a trace of the disgusting posturing of someone who's pulled some really low-down trick and is boasting about it.

«I don't understand, Sveta…«

«My mother's ill, Anton. Her kidneys. She needs regular dialysis… but that's only a half-measure. Well, anyway, they suggested a transplant to me.»

«Why suggest that to you?» I still didn't understand.

«They suggested I should give my mother one kidney. It would almost certainly be accepted; I even had all the tests done… and then I refused. I'm… I'm afraid.»

I didn't say anything. Everything was clear now. Something about me must have clicked; something about me had made Svetlana feel she could be totally open with me. So it was her mother.

Her mother!

» Well done, Anton. The guys are already on their way .» Olga's voice sounded triumphant. And so it should—we'd found the Black Magician! «Would you believe it, at first contact nobody felt a thing, they thought there was nothing to her… Well done. Calm her down, Anton, talk to her, comfort her …«

You can't stop your ears in the Twilight. You have to listen when you're spoken to.

«Svetlana, you know no one has the right to demand…«

«Yes, of course. I told my mother, and she told me to forget about it. She said she'd kill herself if I decided to go ahead with it. She said, what difference did it make to her, when she was going to die anyway? And it wasn't worth crippling myself for her. I shouldn't have told her anything. I should have just donated the kidney. She could have found out later, after the operation. You can even give birth with one kidney… there have been cases.»

Kidneys. What nonsense. What a petty problem. One hour's work for a genuine White Magician. But we weren't allowed to heal people; every genuine cure gave a Dark Magician a permit to cast a curse or put the evil eye on someone. And it was her mother… her own mother, who had cursed her, in a split-second emotional outburst, without realizing what she was doing, while she was telling her daughter not even to think about having the operation.

And that had set the monstrous black vortex growing.

«I don't know what I ought to do now, Anton. I keep doing stupid things. Today I almost jumped into bed with a stranger.» For Svetlana to tell me that must have been almost as difficult as telling me about her mother.

«Sveta, we can work this out,» I began. «The important thing is not just to give up, not punish yourself unnecessarily…«

«I told her on purpose, Anton! I knew what she'd say! I wanted to be told not to do it! She ought to have cursed me, the damned old fool!»

Svetlana had no idea how right she was… No one knows what mechanisms are involved here, what goes on in the Twilight, and how being cursed by a stranger is different from being cursed by someone you love, by your son or by your mother. Except that a mother's curse is the most terrible of all.

«Anton, take it easy.»

The sound of Olga's voice sobered me up instantly.

«That's too simple, Anton. Have you ever dealt with a mother's curse?»

«No,» I said. I said it out loud, answering Svetlana and Olga at the same time.

«I'm to blame,» said Svetlana, with a shake of her head. «Thanks, Anton, I'm to blame and no one else.»

»I have ,» the voice said through the Twilight. «Anton, my friend, this looks all wrong! A mother's curse is a blinding black explosion and a large vortex. But it always dissipates in an instant. Almost always .»

Maybe so. I didn't argue with her. Olga was a specialist in curses, and she'd seen all sorts of things. Of course, nobody would wish their own child ill… at least, not for long. But there were exceptions.

»Exceptions are possible ,» Olga agreed. «They'll check her mother out thoroughly now. But… I wouldn't count on this being over soon .»

«Svetlana,» I asked. «Isn't there any other solution? Some other way to help your mother? Apart from a transplant?»

«No. I'm a doctor, I know. Medicine's not all-powerful.»

«What if it wasn't medicine?»

She was puzzled:

«What do you mean, Anton?»

«Alternative medicine,» I said. «Folk medicine.»

«Anton…«

«I understand, Svetlana; it's hard to believe,» I added hastily. «There are so many charlatans, con men, and psychos out there. But is all of it really lies?»

«Anton, can you show me one person who has cured a really serious illness?» said Svetlana, looking at me ironically. «Not just tell me about him, but show him to me. And his patients too, preferably before and after treatment. Then I'll believe. I'll believe in anything, in psychics, and healers, in White Magicians and Black Magicians…«

I couldn't help squirming on my chair. She had the most absolute proof possible of the existence of «black» magic hanging right there over her head, a textbook case.

«I can show you one,» I said. I remembered how they'd brought Danila into the office one time. It was after an ordinary fight—not absolutely standard, but not too heavy either. He'd just been unlucky. They were detaining a family of werewolves for some petty violation of the Treaty. The werewolves could have given themselves up and nothing more would have come of it than a brief joint investigation by the two Watches.

But the werewolves decided to resist. They probably had an entire trail of bloody crimes behind them that the Night Watch knew nothing about—and now they never would. Danila went in first and got badly mauled. His left lung, his heart, a deep trauma to the liver, one kidney torn right out.

The boss fixed Danila up, with a helping hand from almost everyone in the Watch who had any strength right then. I was standing in the third circle; our job was not so much to provide the boss with energy as to cut out external influences. But sometimes I took a look at Danila. He kept sinking into the Twilight, either on his own or with the boss. Every time he surfaced into reality his wounds were smaller. It was impressive, but not really all that difficult; after all, the wounds were still fresh and they weren't predestined. But I had no doubt that the boss could cure Svetlana's mother. Even if the line of her destiny broke off in the near future, even if she was definitely going to die. She could be cured. Death would simply be due to other causes…

«Anton, aren't you afraid to talk like that?»

I shrugged. Svetlana sighed.

«If you give someone hope, you become responsible, Anton. I don't believe in miracles. But right now I just might. Doesn't that scare you?»

I looked into her eyes.

«No, Svetlana. There are lots of things that scare me. But different things.»

«Anton, the vortex is down by twenty centimeters. The boss says to tell you well done.»

There was something about her voice I didn't like. A conversation through the Twilight isn't like an ordinary one; you can sense emotions.

»What's happened ?» I asked through the dead gray shroud.

«Keep going, Anton.»

«What's happened?»

«I wish I could feel so self-assured,» said Svetlana. She looked at the window: «Did you hear that? A kind of rustling sound…«

«The wind,» I suggested. «Or someone walking by.»

«Olga, tell me!»

«Anton, everything's fine with the vortex. It's slowly shrinking. You're increasing her internal resistance somehow. They calculate that by morning the vortex will have shrunk to a theoretically safe size. Then I can get to work.»

«Then what's the problem? There is one, Olga, I can sense it!»

She didn't answer.

«Olga, are we partners or not?»

That worked. I couldn't see the white owl, but I knew her eyes had glinted and she'd glanced toward the windows of our field headquarters, into the faces of the boss and the observer from the Dark Ones.

«Anton, there's a problem with the boy.»

«With Egor?»

«Anton, what are you thinking about?» Svetlana asked. It was hard work holding simultaneous conversations in the real world and the Twilight one…

«Just wishing I could be in two places at the same time.»

«Anton, your mission is far more important.»

«Tell me, Olga.»

«I don't understand, Anton.» That was Svetlana again.

«You know, I've just realized that a friend of mine is in trouble. Big trouble,» I said, looking into her eyes.

«The girl-vampire. She's taken the boy.»

I didn't feel a thing… No emotions, no pity, no anger, no sadness. I just felt cold and empty inside.

I must have been expecting it. I didn't know why, but I was.

«But Bear and Tiger Cub are there!»

«It just happened.»

«And what's happened to him?»

As long as she hadn't initiated him! Death, simple death. Eternal death was more terrible.

«He's alive. She's taken him as a hostage.»

«What?»

That had never happened before. It had simply never happened. Taking hostages was a game human beings played.

«The girl-vampire's demanding negotiations. She wants a trial… she's hoping to find some way out.»

In my head I gave the vampire ten out of ten for inventiveness. She didn't have a chance of getting away and she'd never had one. But if she could shift all the blame onto her eliminated friend, the one who'd initiated her… I don't know anything, I don't understand a thing. I just got bitten and turned into what I am. I didn't know the rules. I hadn't read the Treaty. I'll be a normal, law-abiding vampire…

«It might even work!» I thought. Especially if Night Watch made a few concessions. And we would… we had no choice. Every human life had to be protected.

I even went limp in relief. You might say, what was the kid to me, anyway? If he'd drawn the short straw, he could have been the legitimate prey of vampires and werewolves. That's just the way life is. And I'd have walked on by. Never mind the short straw—how many times had Night Watch gotten there too late, how many people had been killed by the Dark Ones… But it was a strange thing. I was already involved in the struggle for him, I'd stepped into the Twilight and spilled blood. And it wasn't all the same to me anymore. Not by a long way…

Conversations in the Twilight move a lot faster than they do in the human world. But I still had to divide myself between Olga and Svetlana.

«Anton, don't bother your head about my problems.»

In spite of everything, I felt like laughing. Right then there were hundreds of heads trying to deal with her problems, and Svetlana had no idea; she knew nothing about it. But it was enough to mention other people's problems, so tiny in comparison with the black inferno vortex, and she immediately started worrying about them.

«You know,» I said, «there's a law called the law of paired events. You have problems, but I wasn't talking about them. There's someone else who has really big problems. His own personal problems. But that doesn't make them any easier.»

She understood. I liked the fact that she wasn't embarrassed, either. She just added:

«My problems are personal too.»

«Not entirely,» I said. «At least, I don't think so.»

«And that other person—can you help him?»

«Someone else will help him,» I said.

«Are you sure? Thanks for listening to me, but it's impossible to help me. It's just my dumb destiny, I guess.»

»Is she throwing me out ?» I asked through the Twilight. I didn't want to touch her mind right then.

»No ,» Olga replied. «No… Anton, she can feel it .»

Did she really have some Other powers? Or was it just a freak upsurge, triggered by the Inferno?

«What can she feel?»

«That you're needed at the other place.»

«Why me?»

«That crazy bloodsucking bitch is demanding you for the negotiations. The one who killed her partner.»

That really made me feel sick. We'd done an elective on anti-terrorist tactics, more so that we could avoid having to use our powers as Others if we got caught up in human disputes than for any real requirements of the job. We'd covered terrorist psychology, and in those terms, the vampire was acting perfectly logically. I was the first Watch agent she had ever come across. I'd killed her mentor and wounded her. For her the image of her enemy was concentrated in me.

«How long has she been asking for me?»

«About ten minutes.»

I looked into Svetlana's eyes. Dry, calm, not a single tear. The hardest thing of all is when pain is hidden behind a mask of calm.

«Sveta, would you mind if I went now?»

She shrugged.

«This is all so stupid…« I said. «It seems to me that you need help right now. At least someone who can listen to you. Or is willing to sit beside you and drink cold tea.»

A faint smile and a barely perceptible nod.

«But you're right… there is someone else who needs help.»

«Anton, you're strange.»

I shook my head:

«Not strange. Very strange.»

«I have this feeling… I've known you for a long time, but it's like we'd never met before. And then—it's like you're talking to me and someone else at the same time.»

«Yes,» I said. «That's it exactly.»

«Maybe I'm going insane?»

«No.»

«Anton… this wasn't just a chance visit, was it?»

I didn't answer. Olga whispered something and stopped talking. The gigantic vortex rotated slowly above her head.

«No, it wasn't,» I said. «I came to help.»

If the Dark Magician who had cursed her were watching us… That is, if it weren't just an accidental «mother's curse,» but a calculated blow struck by a professional…

We looked at each other without saying anything.

I had the feeling I could almost grasp what was really going on here. The answer was there, right beside me, and all our theories were stupid nonsense; we were following the old rules and maps that the boss had asked me to ditch. But to do that, I needed to think. I had to cut myself off for at least a second from what was going on, stare at a blank wall or a mindless TV screen, and stop feeling torn between the desire to help one small human being and tens or hundreds of thousands of people. Stop swinging one way, then the other, trying to resolve this lousy situation, which would still turn out badly whichever way the cards fell, and the only difference it would make to me was that I would die quickly when the blast of the Inferno flung me into the gray expanses of the Twilight world, or slowly and painfully, kindling the dull flame of self-contempt in my own heart…

«Sveta, I've got to go,» I said.

»Anton !» It wasn't Olga; it was the boss. «Anton …«

He stopped; he couldn't give me any orders; the situation was an ethical impasse. The girl-vampire was obviously sticking to her demands and refusing to negotiate with anyone except me. If he ordered me to stay, the boss would condemn the young hostage to death… He couldn't order me, he couldn't even ask me.

»We're organizing your withdrawal …«

«Better just tell the vampire I'm coming.»

Svetlana reached out and touched my hand:

«Are you going away forever?»

«Just until the morning,» I said.

«I don't want you to go,» she said simply.

«I know.»

«Who are you?»

An express introduction to the mysteries of the universe? The same scene all over again?

«I'll tell you in the morning. Okay?»

»You're out of your mind ,» said the boss's voice.

«Do you really have to go away?»

»Don't say that !» Olga shouted. She'd sensed what I was thinking.

But I said it anyway.

«Sveta, when they suggested you should mutilate yourself to prolong your mother's life, and you refused… You did what was right, what was rational, didn't you? But now you're suffering. And the pain's so bad, it would have been better to act irrationally.»

«If you don't go now, will you suffer?»

«Yes.»

«Then go. Only come back, Anton.»

I got up from the table, leaving my cold tea. The Inferno vortex swayed above us.

«I will, for sure,» I said. «And believe me… The situation isn't hopeless.»

Neither of us said another word. I went out of the apartment and began walking down the stairs. Svetlana closed the door behind me. That silence… That deathly silence; even the dogs had howled themselves out that night.

«Irrational,» I thought, «I'm being irrational. If there's no ethically correct solution, act irrationally. Did someone tell me that? Have I just remembered a line from my old course notes, a phrase from a lecture? Or am I looking for excuses?»

»The vortex …« Olga whispered. Her voice was almost unrecognizable, husky. I wanted to press her head against my shoulder.

I pushed the entrance door open and slipped out onto the icy sidewalk. The white owl circled above my head like a bundle of fluff.

The Inferno vortex had shrunk; it was shorter. Not a lot, relative to its overall height, but enough so that I could see it, maybe one and a half or two meters.

»Did you know that would happen ?» asked the boss.

I looked up at the vortex and shook my head. Just what was going on here? Why had the Inferno reacted by growing larger and stronger when Ignat showed up? Putting people into a mellow state of mind was his specialty. Why had my aimless conversation and unexpected departure made the vortex shrink?

»It's time I fired that group of analysts ,» said the boss. I realized he'd said it to everyone, not just me. «When will we have a working hypothesis for what's going on ?»

A car suddenly appeared from the direction of Zelyony Avenue, catching me in the glare of its headlights. Its tires squealed as it bounced clumsily over the bumps of broken asphalt and stopped beside the entrance. The hot-orange, low-slung, sporty cabriolet looked absurd, surrounded by the prefabricated, multistory blocks of a city where the best way of getting around was still a jeep.

Semyon stuck his head out on the driver's side and nodded:

«Get in. I've been told to drive you like the wind.»

I looked around at Olga and she sensed my glance.

«I've got a job to do here. Go.»

I walked around the car and got into the front. Ilya was sprawled in the back—the boss must have decided the Tiger Cub-Bear double act needed reinforcements.

»Anton ,» said Olga's voice, pursuing me through the Twilight. «Remember… you made a deal today. Don't forget that, not for a single moment …«

I didn't understand at first what she was talking about. The witch from the Day Watch? What did she have to do with anything?

The car jerked, scraping across the hummocks of ice. Semyon swore with relish as he twisted the wheel, and the car began crawling toward the avenue with an indignant roar.

«What half-wit did you get the wheels from?» I asked. «Driving around in this weather…«

Ilya chuckled.

«Shshsh! Boris Ignatievich has lent you his very own car.»

«Are you serious?» I asked, turning to face him. The boss was always delivered to work in his company BMW. I'd never realized he had a yen for impractical luxury…

«It's the truth. Antoshka, how did you manage that?» Ilya nodded in the direction of the vortex hanging above the houses. «I never realized you had powers like that!»

«I never touched it. Just talked to the girl.»

«Talked? You mean you didn't actually fuck her?»

That was Ilya's usual way of talking when he was feeling tense about something. And he had plenty of reasons for feeling tense just then. But it still made me wince. I thought what he said sounded strained… or maybe he just hit a raw nerve.

«No. Ilya, don't talk that way.»

«Sorry,» he said flippantly. «So what did you do?»

«I just talked.»

The car finally hurtled out onto the avenue.

«Hold tight,» said Semyon curtly. I was pressed back in my seat. Ilya lolled about behind me, taking out a cigarette and lighting up.

Twenty seconds later I realized that my last drive had been a walk in the park.

«Semyon, has the probability of an accident been deleted?» I shouted. The car hurtled through the night, as if it were trying to overtake the beams of its own headlights.

«I've been driving for severity years,» Semyon said contemptuously. «I drove trucks on the Road of Life during the Siege of Leningrad!»

There was no reason to doubt what he said, but the thought crossed my mind that those journeys had been less dangerous. He hadn't been moving this fast, and guessing where a bomb's going to fall is no great trick for an Other. There weren't many cars around just then, but there were some; the road was terrible, to put it mildly; and our sports car was never meant for conditions like this…

«Ilya, what happened over there,» I asked, trying to tear my eyes away from a truck dodging out of our path. «Have you been posted on that?»

«You mean with the vampire and the kid?»

«Yes.»

«We did something stupid, that's what happened,» said Ilya, and then he swore. «Maybe not really all that stupid… We'd done everything right. Tiger Cub and Bear introduced themselves to the kid's parents as their favorite distant relatives.»

«We're from the Urals?» I asked, thinking of our course on social contacts and different ways of getting to know people.

«Yes. Everything was going fine. The table was set, the drink was flowing, they were gorging on Urals delicacies… from the nearest supermarket…«

I remembered Bear's heavy bag.

«They were really having a great time.» That note in Ilya's voice didn't sound like envy, more like enthusiastic approval of his colleagues. «Everything was just hunky-dory. The kid sat with them some of the time; some of the time he was in his room… How could they know he was already able to enter the Twilight?»

I felt a cold shudder.

Well, how could they have known?

I hadn't told them. And I hadn't told the boss. Or anyone. I'd been satisfied with pulling the kid out of the Twilight and sacrificing a little drop of my own blood. A hero. The solitary warrior in the field.

Ilya went on, not suspecting a thing.

«The vampire hooked him with the Call. Very neatly too; the guys didn't feel a thing. And firmly… the kid never even peeped. He entered the Twilight and climbed up onto the roof.»

«How?»

«Over the balconies. He only had to climb up three floors. The vampire was already waiting for him. And she knew the boy was under guard—the moment she grabbed him, she revealed herself. Now the parents are sound asleep and the vampire's standing there with her arms around the kid, while Tiger Cub and Bear are going out of their minds.»

I didn't say anything. I didn't have anything to say.

«Our stupid mistake,» Ilya concluded. «And a combination of unforeseen circumstances with fatal consequences. Nobody had even initiated the kid… How could anyone know he could enter the Twilight?»

«I knew.»

Maybe it was my memories that did it, or maybe I was just frightened by our terrible speed as the car raced along the highway, but I looked into the Twilight.

People are so lucky that they can't see this—ever! And so unlucky that they will never be able to see it!

A high, gray sky, where there have never been any stars, a sky as glutinous as milk jelly, glowing with a ghastly, wan light. The outlines of everything have softened and dissolved—the buildings, covered with a carpet of blue moss, and the trees, with branches that sway regardless of which way the wind's blowing, and the streetlamps, with the twilight birds circling above them, barely moving their short wings. The cars coming toward you move really slowly, the people walking along the street are hardly even moving their feet. Everything seen through a gray light filter, everything heard through plugs of cotton wool in your ears. A silent, black and white movie, an eerie, elegant director's cut. The world from which we draw our strength. The world that drinks our life. The Twilight. Whoever you really are when you enter it, that's who you are when you come out. The gray gloom will dissolve the shell that has been growing over you all your life, extract the tiny core that people call the soul and test its quality.

And that's when you'll feel yourself crunching in the jaws of the Twilight; you'll feel the chilly, piercing wind, as corrosive as snake venom… and you'll become one of the Others.

And choose which side to take.

«Is the boy still in the Twilight?» I asked.

«They're all in the Twilight…« said Ilya, diving in there after me. «Anton, why didn't you tell them?»

«It never occurred to me. I didn't think it was that important. I'm not a field operative, Ilya.»

He shook his head.

We find it impossible, or almost impossible, to reproach each other, especially when someone's really messed up. There's no need; our punishment is always there, all around us. The Twilight gives us more strength than human beings can ever have; it gives us a life that is almost immortal in human terms. And it also takes it all away when the time comes.

In one sense we all live on borrowed time. Not just the vampires and werewolves who have to kill in order to prolong their strange existence. The Dark Ones can't afford to do good. And we can't afford the opposite.

«If I don't pull this off…« I didn't finish. Everything was already clear anyway.

Chapter 8

Seen through the Twilight it actually looked beautiful. Up on the roof, the flat roof of that absurd «house on stilts,» I could see different-colored patches of light. The only things that have any color in there are our emotions. And there were plenty of those around.

The brightest of all was the column of crimson flame that pierced the sky—the vampire's fear and fury.

«She's powerful,» Semyon said simply, glancing up at the roof and kicking the car door shut. He sighed and started taking off his coat.

«What are you doing?» I asked.

«I'll go up the wall… over the balconies. I advise you to do the same, Ilya. Only you go in the Twilight; it's easier.»

«And how are you going?»

«The ordinary way. There's less chance she'll notice. And don't you two worry… I was climbing mountains for sixty years. I took the fascist flag down from Mount Elbrus.»

Semyon stripped to his shirt, throwing his clothes onto the hood of the car. They were followed by a swift protective spell covering his threads and the fancy wheels.

«Are you sure?» I inquired.

Semyon laughed, jiggled about, did a few squats, and swung his arms around like an athlete warming up. Then he trotted across to the building, with the fine snow settling on his shoulders.

«Will he make it?» I asked Ilya. I knew how to climb the wall of a building in the Twilight. In theory. But an ascent in the ordinary world, and with no equipment…

«He ought to,» said Ilya, but he didn't really sound convinced. «When he swam through the underground channel of the river Yauza… I didn't think he'd make it then, either.»

«Thirty years practicing underwater swimming,» I said gloomily.

«Forty… I'll get going then, Anton. How are you going up, in the elevator?»

«Yup.»

«Okay… don't keep us waiting.»

He shifted into the Twilight and ran after Semyon. They were probably going to climb different walls, but I didn't really want to know who was going which way. My route was waiting for me, and it wasn't likely to prove any easier.

«Why did you ever have to meet me, boss…« I whispered as I ran up to the entrance. The snow crunched under my feet; the blood pounded in my ears. I took my pistol out of its holster on the run and took the safety catch off. Eight explosive silver bullets. That ought to be enough, as long as I hit the target. I just had to spot the moment when I had a chance to take the vampire by surprise and not wing the boy.

«Sooner or later someone would have met you, Anton. If not us, then the Day Watch. And they had just as good a chance of taking you.»

I wasn't surprised he was keeping tabs on me. First, this was a serious business. And second, after all, he was my first mentor.

«Boris Ignatievich, if anything happens…« I buttoned up my jacket and stuck the barrel of the pistol into my belt behind my back. «About Svetlana…«

«They ran an exhaustive check on her mother, Anton. No. She's not capable of casting a curse. No powers at all.»

«No, that wasn't what I meant, Boris Ignatievich… I just had this thought. I didn't pity her.»

«And what does that mean?»

«I don't know. But I didn't pity her. I didn't pay her any compliments. I didn't make any excuses for her.»

«I understand.»

«And now… disappear, please. This is my job.»

«Okay. I'm sorry for turning you out into the field. Good luck, Anton.»

I couldn't remember the boss ever apologizing to anyone before. But I had no time to be surprised; the elevator had finally arrived.

I pressed the button for the top floor and automatically reached for the little button-earphones. Strange, there was music coming through them. When had I turned on the Walkman?

And what trick will chance play me

All will be decided later, for some he is no one,

For me he is my lord,

I stand in the darkness, for some I am a shadow,

For others I am invisible

I love Picnic. I wonder if Shklyarsky's ever been tested to see if he's an Other. He ought to be… But then, maybe not. Let him keep singing.

I dance out of time, I've done everything wrong,

Not regretting the fact

That today I'm like a shower that never fell,

A flower that never blossomed.

I, I, I—I am invisible.

I, I, I—I am invisible.

Our faces are like smoke, our faces are smoke

And no one will learn how we conquer…

Maybe I could take that last line as a good omen?

The elevator stopped.

I jumped out onto the top-floor landing and looked up at the trapdoor in the ceiling. The lock had been torn off, quite literally—the shackle was flattened and stretched. The vampire wouldn't have needed to do that; she'd probably flown to the roof. The boy had climbed up over the balconies.

So it must have been Tiger Cub or Bear. Most likely Bear; Tiger Cub would have broken the trapdoor out.

I pulled off my jacket and dropped it on the floor with the murmuring Walkman. I felt for the pistol behind my back—it was wedged in firmly. «So technology's all nonsense, is it?» I thought. «We'll see about that, Olga.»

I cast my shadow upward, projecting it into the air. I reached up and slid swiftly into it. Once I was in the Twilight, I started climbing the ladder. The thick, clumpy blue moss covering the rungs felt spongy under my fingers; it tried to creep away.

«Anton!»

When I stepped out onto the roof I even hunched over a bit, the wind up there was so strong. Wild, icy gusts—either an echo of the wind in the human world or some fantastic whim of the Twilight. At first I was sheltered from it by the concrete box of the lift shaft, projecting above the level of the roof, but the moment I took a single step I was chilled to the bone.

«Anton, we're here!»

Tiger Cub was standing about ten meters away. For a moment the sight of her made me envious; there was no way she was feeling the cold.

I don't know where shape-shifters and magicians get the mass for transforming their bodies. It doesn't seem to come from the Twilight, but it's not torn the human world either. In her human form the girl weighed maybe fifty kilograms, maybe a bit more. The young tigress poised in combat stance on the icy roof must have weighed a centner and a half. Her aura was a flaming orange and there were sparks wandering lazily over the surface of her fur. Her tail was twitching left and right in a regular rhythm; the right front paw was scraping regularly at the bitumen of the roof. At that spot it was scraped right through to the concrete… someone would get flooded come spring…

«Come closer, Anton,» the tigress roared, without turning around. «There she is!»

Bear was standing closer to the vampire than Tiger Cub. He looked even more terrifying. For this transformation he'd chosen the form of a polar bear, but unlike the real inhabitants of the Arctic he was snowy white, just like in the pictures and children's books. No, he had to be a magician, not a reformed shape-shifter. Shape-shifters were limited to only one form, two at most, and I'd seen Bear take the form of a pigeon-toed brown Russian bear (when we arranged a carnival for the Watch's American guests), and the form of a grizzly, at our demonstration classes on transformation.

The girl-vampire was standing right on the edge of the roof.

She looked worse, a lot worse since the first time I met her. Her features were even sharper now and her cheeks were hollow. During the first stage of the body's transformation, a vampire requires fresh blood almost constantly. But I wasn't about to be fooled by the way she looked: Her exhaustion was just her appearance; it was agonizing for her, but it didn't take away her strength. The burn mark on her face was almost gone; I could just make out a faint trace.

«You!» the vampire's voice rang out triumphantly—as if she'd summoned me to be slaughtered, not for negotiations.

«Yes, me.»

Egor was standing in front of the vampire; she was using him to shield herself from our operatives. The boy was in the Twilight she'd summoned, so he hadn't lost consciousness. He stood still, not saying anything, looking from me to Tiger Cub and back. We were obviously the two he was counting on most. The vampire had one arm around the boy's chest, holding him tight against her, and she was holding her other hand against his throat, with its claws extended. The situation wasn't that hard to assess. Stalemate. Both sides stymied.

If Tiger Cub or Bear tried to attack the vampire, she'd tear the kid's head off with a single sweep of her hand. There's no cure for that… not even with our powers. On the other hand, once she killed the boy, there'd be nothing to stop us.

It's a mistake to drive your enemy into a corner. Especially if you're going to kill him.

«You wanted me to come. So I've come.» I raised my hands to show they were empty and started walking forward. When I was midway between Tiger Cub and Bear the vampire bared her fangs:

«Stop!»

«I haven't got any poplar stakes or combat amulets. I'm not a magician. And there's nothing I can do to you.»

«The amulet! The amulet on your neck!»

So that was it…

«That's nothing to do with you. It protects me against someone incomparably superior to you.»

«Take it off!»

Oh, this was bad… really bad… I grabbed the chain, pulled the amulet off and dropped it at my feet. Now, if he wanted to, Zabulon could try to influence me.

«I've taken it off. Now talk. What do you want?»

The vampire twisted her head right around—her neck easily turned the full three hundred and sixty degrees. Oho! I'd never even heard of that one… I don't think our fighters had, either: Tiger Cub growled.

«There's someone sneaking up here!» The vampire's voice was still human—the shrill, hysterical voice of a stupid young girl who has acquired great strength and power by accident. «Who is it? Who?»

She pressed her left hand, the one with the extended claws, into the boy's neck. I shuddered, picturing what would happen if a single drop of blood was spilled. The vampire would lose control! She pointed to the edge of the roof with her other hand in a ludicrous gesture of accusation, like Lenin on his armored car.

«Tell him to come out!»

I sighed and shouted:

«Ilya, come out…«

Fingers appeared on the edge of the roof, and a moment later Ilya swung over the low barrier and stood beside Tiger Cub.

Where had he been hiding? On the canopy of a balcony? Or had he been hanging there, clutching the strands of blue moss?

«I knew it!» the girl-vampire said triumphantly. «Trickery!»

It seemed she hadn't sensed Semyon. Maybe our phlegmatic friend had spent a hundred years training in ninja techniques?

«What right have you to talk about trickery?»

«Every right!» Something human flickered briefly in the vampire's eyes. «I know how to deceive! You don't!»

«Fine, fine. You know how, we don't,» I thought. «Just you keep on believing that. If you believe the only place for 'white lies' is in sermons, that's just fine. If you think that 'good must have hard fists' only applies in old poems by a ridiculed poet, you just keep right on thinking that way.»

«What do you want?» I asked.

She paused for a moment, as if she hadn't given it any thought:

«To live!»

«Too late. You're already dead.»

«Really? And can the dead rip people's heads off?»

«Yes. That's all they can do.»

We looked at each other, and it was strange, so pompous and theatrical—the whole conversation was absurd, after all; we'd never be able to understand each other. She was dead. Her life was someone else's death. I was alive. But from where she stood, it was all the other way around.

«I'm not to blame for this.» Her voice had suddenly become calmer and softer. The hand on Egor's neck relaxed slightly. «You, the ones who call yourselves the Night Watch… who never sleep at night, who claim the right to protect the world against Darkness… where were you when my blood was drunk?»

Bear shifted forward slightly. A tiny little step, as if he hadn't moved his powerful paws at all, just slid when the wind pushed him. I knew he'd continue slipping forward like that for another ten minutes, the same way he had been doing for an entire hour since the standoff began. Until he thought he had a good enough chance. Then he'd pounce… and if he was lucky, he'd be able to tear the kid out of the vampire's arms with no more harm done than a couple of broken ribs.

«We can't keep track of everybody,» I said. «It's just not possible.»

This was terrible… I was starting to feel sorry for her. Not for the boy who'd been caught up in the game played between Light and Darkness, not for young Svetlana, with the curse hanging over her, not for the entirely innocent city that would bear the full brunt of that curse… I was feeling sorry for the vampire. It was a good question—where were we that night? The ones who call ourselves the Night Watch…

«In any case you still had a choice,» I said. «And don't tell me you didn't. Initiation can only take place by mutual consent. You could have died. Died honestly. As a human being.»

«Honestly?» The vampire shook her head, scattering her hair across her shoulders. Where was Semyon?… How hard could it be to climb to the roof of a twelve-story building? «It would have been good to die—honestly. But the person who signed the license… the one who earmarked me as food. Was he acting honestly?»

Light and Darkness…

She wasn't simply the victim of a vampire on the rampage. She'd been marked down as prey, chosen by a blind throw of the dice. She had been destined to give up her life for the continuation of someone else's death. But that young guy who had crumbled into a heap of dust at my feet when he was incinerated by the seal had fallen in love with her. Really fallen in love… and he hadn't completely sucked out the girl's life; he'd turned her into his equal.

The dead can do more than rip off heads; they can love too. The trouble is that even their love requires blood.

He'd had no choice but to conceal her, since he'd turned the girl into a vampire illegally. He'd needed to feed her, and only live blood would do for that, not the bottled blood of naive donors.

So he'd started poaching on the streets of Moscow, and then we'd started to pay attention, the keepers of the Light, the valiant Night Watch, who hand victims over to the Dark Ones.

In a war the most dangerous thing is to understand the enemy. To understand is to forgive. And we have no right to do that—we never have had, not since the creation of the world.

«Even so, you still had a choice,» I said. «You did. Someone else's betrayal is no excuse for your own.»

She laughed quietly.

«Yes, yes… good servant of the Light… Of course. You're right. And you can tell me a thousand times that I'm dead. That my soul has burned away and evaporated into the Twilight. But if I'm so malevolent, can you explain to me what the difference is between us! Explain that… make me believe it.»

The vampire lowered her head and looked into Egor's face. She spoke in an intimate, almost friendly tone:

«And you… boy… do you understand me? Answer me. Answer me honestly, don't take any notice of… my claws. I won't take offense.»

Bear made another tiny movement forward. I could feel his muscles tensing as he prepared to pounce.

But then Semyon appeared behind the vampire, without making a sound, with a movement that was smooth and quick at the same time—how did he manage to move that fast in the human world?

«Wake up, little one!» the vampire said coaxingly. «Answer! Only honestly! And if you think he's right and I'm wrong… if you really believe that… I'll let you go.»

I caught Egor's eye.

And I knew what he was going to say.

«You're right too.»

A cold, empty feeling. No strength left for emotions. Let them show on the outside, let them blaze like a bonfire that people couldn't see.

«What do you want?» I asked. «To exist? All right… give yourself up. There'll be a trial, a joint court of the Watches…«

The girl-vampire looked at me and shook her head:

«No, I don't trust your court. Not the Night Watch or the Day Watch.»

«Then why did you call me here?» I asked. Semyon was moving toward the vampire, getting closer all the time…

«For vengeance,» the vampire said simply. «You killed my friend. I'm going to kill yours… while you watch. And then… I'm going to try… to kill you. But even if I fail…« She smiled. «… you'll always know you didn't save the boy. Won't you, watchman? You sign licenses without thinking about real people. And the moment you do look… out creeps your morality… your rotten, false, cheap morality…«

Semyon pounced.

And Bear pounced in the same instant.

It was beautiful, and it was faster than any bullet or any spell, because in the final analysis all that's left is the body striking the blow and the skill acquired over twenty, forty, a hundred years…

But I still pulled the pistol out from behind me and jerked the trigger back, knowing that the bullet would fly through the air slowly and lazily, like a «high-speed» shot from a cheap action movie, still leaving the vampire a chance to dodge, a chance to kill.

Semyon flattened out in the air, as if he'd hit a wall of glass, and slid down an invisible barrier, shifting into the twilight as he went. Bear was flung off to one side—and he was far more massive. The bullet, crawling toward the vampire with all the grace of a dragonfly, flared up in a bright petal of flame and disappeared.

If it wasn't for the way the vampire's eyes were slowly opening wider and wider, I might have thought she'd conjured up the protective shield herself… But that's something only the most powerful magicians can do…

«They are under my protection…« a voice said behind my back.

I swung around—and met Zabulon's gaze.

It was amazing that the vampire didn't panic. It was amazing she didn't kill Egor. The unsuccessful attack and the sudden appearance of the Dark Magician must have been much more of a surprise to her than to us, because I'd been half-expecting something from the moment I took off the amulet.

I wasn't surprised he'd gotten there so fast. The Dark Ones have their own pathways. But why had Zabulon, the observer from the Dark Side, preferred this little tussle to staying in our headquarters? Had he lost interest in Svetlana and the vortex hanging over her head? Did he know something that we didn't?

That damned habit of trying to calculate everything in advance! The field operatives had it beaten out of them by the very nature of their work. Their work was all instant response to danger, battle, victory, or defeat.

Ilya had taken out his magic wand. Its pale-lilac glow was too bright for a third-grade magician and too steady for me to believe he could have charged it. The boss had probably charged it himself.

So he must have been expecting something?

He must have been expecting someone to turn up with powers that matched his own?

Neither Tiger Cub nor Bear changed their form. Their magic didn't require any external devices, and certainly not human bodies. Bear kept his eyes fixed on the vampire, totally ignoring Zabulon. Tiger Cub stood beside me. Semyon walked slowly around the vampire, rubbing his waist and deliberately making sure she saw him. He left the Dark Magician to us too.

«They?» Tiger Cub growled.

It took me a moment to realize what was bothering her.

«They are under my protection,» Zabulon repeated. The magician was wrapped in a shapeless black coat, and his head was covered with a crumpled black beret of dark fur. He had his hands in his pockets, but somehow I was certain there was nothing there, no amulets, no pistols.

«Who are you?» screeched the girl-vampire. «Who are you?»

«Your protector and mentor,» said Zabulon, looking at me. Not even straight at me, more a casual glance past me. «Your master.»

Had he gone insane? The girl-vampire had no idea of the balance of forces here. She was wound up, ready to blow. She had been prepared to die… to end her existence. Now she suddenly had a chance to survive, but the way he spoke…

«I have no masters!» The girl whose life depended on other peoples' death laughed. «Whoever you are—from the Light, or from the Darkness—remember that! I have no masters and never will!»

She began backing away toward the edge of the roof, dragging Egor after her. Still clutching him with one arm, holding the other hand at his throat. A hostage… a good move against the forces of Light.

And maybe against the forces of Darkness too?

«Zabulon, we accept,» I said, laying my hand on the tense muscles of Tiger Cub's back. «She is yours. Take her—until the trial. We honor the Treaty.»

«I am taking them ,» said Zabulon, gazing forward blindly. The wind was lashing into his face, but the magician's unblinking eyes remained wide open, as if they were made of glass. «The woman and the boy are ours.»

«No. Only the vampire.»

He finally deigned to look at me.

«Agent of the Light, I am only taking what is mine. I honor the Great Treaty. The woman and the boy are ours.»

«You are stronger than any of us,» I said, «but you are alone, Zabulon.»

The Dark Magician shook his head and smiled in mournful sympathy.

«No, Anton Gorodetsky.»

They came out from behind the lift shaft, a young man and young woman. I knew them. Oh yes, I knew them.

Alisa and Pyotr. The witch and the warlock from Day Watch.

«Egor!» Zabulon said in a quiet voice. «Have you understood the difference between us? Which side do you prefer?»

The boy didn't answer. But perhaps only because the vampire's claws were pressed against his neck.

«Have we got a problem here?» Tiger Cub asked in a purring voice.

«Uh-huh,» I confirmed.

«Your decision?» asked Zabulon. His Watch agents weren't saying anything as yet, keeping out of things…

«I don't like this,» said Tiger Cub. She edged a little closer to Zabulon, and her tail lashed me mercilessly across one knee. «I don't like the Day Watch's view of what's going on here… not one little bit.»

Bear obviously shared her opinion: When they worked as a pair, one of them spoke for both. I looked at Ilya: He was twirling the wand in his fingers, smiling darkly as if he were thinking. Like a child who's brought a loaded Uzi to a party instead of a plastic machine gun. Semyon was obviously up for anything. He didn't give a damn about the petty details. He'd spent seventy years running over rooftops.

«Zabulon, do you speak for the Day Watch?» I asked.

I saw a brief flicker of doubt in the Dark Magician's eyes.

What was going on? Why had Zabulon left our headquarters, abandoning the opportunity to track down an unknown magician of monstrous power and enlist him in the Day Watch? You didn't just abandon an opportunity like that, not even for a girl-vampire and a kid with potentially great powers. Why was Zabulon determined to go head to head?

And why on earth was he so reluctant—I could sense it, there was no doubt about it!—to speak in the name of the Day Watch?

«I speak as a private individual,» said Zabulon.

«Then we have a few little personal disagreements,» I answered.

«Yes.»

He didn't want to involve the two Watches. Right now we were just Others. We might be on duty, we might be on official assignments, but Zabulon preferred not to raise the conflict to the level of an official confrontation. Why? Was he so very confident of his own powers, or was he afraid the boss might turn up?

I didn't understand a thing.

And the most important question of all was why he'd left our headquarters and abandoned the hunt for the sorcerer who'd put the curse on Svetlana. The Dark Ones had insisted that the sorcerer must be handed over to them. Why would he abandon that claim so easily?

What did Zabulon know that we didn't?

«You're pitiful…« the Dark Magician began. But before he could finish, the hostage made his move.

I heard Bear's puzzled growl of confusion and looked around.

After playing the part of a hostage in the vampire's clutches for the last half hour, Egor was dissolving, disappearing.

The kid was withdrawing deeper into the Twilight.

The vampire squeezed her arms together in an attempt to keep hold of him or kill him. The sweeping movement of the clawed hand was swift, but it met no living flesh. The vampire struck herself under her left breast, in the heart.

What a pity she wasn't alive!

Like a snowdrift suddenly springing into life, Bear pounced, streaking through the empty air where Egor had just been standing and felling the vampire. The twitching body was completely covered by his massive carcass, with just one clawed hand protruding from under his shaggy side and twitching spasmodically.

In the same instant Ilya raised the wand. The lilac glow dimmed slightly, and then the wand exploded into a column of white flame. The field agent looked as if he were holding a beam of light torn out of the lamp of a lighthouse. It was blinding; I could almost feel its weight. With a visible effort, Ilya swung his arms, scraping the gray sky with a beam of light brighter than any seen in Moscow since the war, and swung the gigantic club down on Zabulon's head.

The Dark Magician screamed.

He fell, pinned down onto the roof, and the column of light tore itself out of Ilya's hands, moving of its own accord. It was no longer a beam of light, but a white snake, sprouting silvery scales as it coiled and writhed. The end of the gigantic body flattened out into a hood and a blunt head protruded from under it, with unblinking eyes the size of truck wheels. The slim, forked tongue flickered, blazing like a gas burner.

I jumped back as the tail almost caught me. The fiery cobra coiled itself into a ball and fell on Zabulon, rapidly winding the coils of its body around his head. And on the far side of the blazing coils there were three shadows thrashing away at each other, their rapid movements blurred into dim streaks. I hadn't noticed when Tiger Cub leapt on the witch and the warlock.

Ilya laughed quietly and took another wand out of his belt. This one was less bright—he must have charged it himself.

Had he been carrying a weapon designed personally for Zabulon, then? Had the boss already known our enemy?

I looked around the roof. At first glance, everything was under control. Bear was lying on the girl-vampire, pounding away with his paws, with occasional muffled sounds emerging from under his body. Tiger Cub was dealing with the two Day Watch agents, and it didn't look as if she needed any help. The white cobra was throttling Zabulon.

We were left with nothing to do. Ilya was watching the struggle, holding the wand at the ready, evidently trying to decide which tussle to throw himself into. Semyon had never taken any interest in the Day Watch agents and Zabulon, and now he'd lost all interest in the vampire and was wandering along the edge of the roof, looking down. Was he worried about new reinforcements for the Dark Side?

And I stood there like an idiot, holding the useless pistol in my hands…

The shadow sprang to my feet at the first attempt. I stepped into it, feeling the searing chill. Not the chill that humans know, not the chill that every Other knows—this was the chill of the deep Twilight. Here there was no wind; here the snow and ice under our feet had disappeared. Here there was no blue moss. The space was entirely filled with mist, thick, glutinous, and lumpy. If mist can be compared with milk, then this was curdled milk.

My friends and foes had all alike been transformed into vague shadows that were barely moving. Only the fiery cobra fighting with Zabulon was still as swift and scintillating as ever—that battle was being fought at every level of the Twilight. Thinking about the amount of energy that must have been transferred to that magic wand made me feel dizzy.

What for? Darkness and Light, what for? Neither the young vampire nor this young Other, the kid, were worth that kind of effort!

«Egor!» I shouted.

I was beginning to feel frozen. I'd only ever entered the second level of the Twilight twice: once in class, with an instructor beside me, and the day before, to get through the closed door of the apartment. I didn't carry any protection for this level, and every moment I was losing more and more strength.

«Egor!» I took a step through the mist. I could hear muffled blows behind me—the snake was pounding someone against the roof, clutching his body in its jaws… and I knew whose body it was…

Time down there moves even more slowly, and there was just a tiny chance that the kid might not have lost consciousness yet. Struggling to make anything out in the gloom, I walked toward the spot where he'd dived down to the second level of the Twilight, and I didn't spot the body under my feet. I stumbled and fell, then got up, squatting on my haunches, and found myself face to face with Egor.

«You okay?» It was a stupid question to ask, because his eyes were open and he was looking at me.

«Yes.»

Our voices had a hollow, rumbling sound. There were two fluttering shadows right beside us: Bear was still tearing at the vampire. She was really holding in there for all she was worth!

And so was the kid!

«Let's go,» I said, reaching out and touching his shoulder. «It's… tough being down here. We could get stuck here forever.»

«So okay.»

«Don't you understand, Egor! To be dissolved in the Twilight means suffering, eternal suffering. You can't even imagine what it's like, Egor! We're leaving!»

«What for?»

«To stay alive.»

«What for?»

My fingers wouldn't bend. My pistol felt heavy, cast out of ice. I might last another minute, or two…

I looked into Egor's eyes.

«Everyone decides for himself. I'm leaving. I've got something to live for.»

«Why do you want to save me?» he asked curiously. «Does your Night Watch need me?»

«I don't think you'll join our Watch,» I said, surprising even myself.

He smiled. A shadow slowly ran through us—Semyon. Had he spotted something? Was someone in trouble?

And there I was, wasting my final strength trying to prevent a little Other from committing esoteric suicide—when he was doomed anyway.

«I'm leaving,» I said. «Goodbye.»

My shadow clutched hold of me, freezing to my fingers and growing onto my face. I began tearing myself out of it in jerks, and the Twilight hissed in displeasure at such behavior.

«Help me,» said Egor. I only just caught the sound of his voice; I was almost out already. He'd left it until the very last moment.

I reached out and grabbed his hand. I was already being torn out, the mist around me was melting. All my help was purely symbolic; the boy had to do the real work for himself.

And he did.

We tumbled out into the upper layer of the Twilight. The cold wind struck me in the face, but this time it felt good. The listless movements on every side were transformed into a furious struggle. The blurred tone of gray looked bright and colorful.

Something had changed during those few seconds we'd spent talking. The vampire was still twitching under Bear… that wasn't it. The young warlock was lying on the roof, either dead or unconscious; Tiger Cub and the witch were rolling about nearby… that wasn't it.

The snake!

The white cobra was expanding, inflating to fill a quarter of the roof. As if it had been pumped full of air and it was rising, or flying up of its own accord into the low sky. Semyon was standing by the twined coils of the fiery body, half-squatting in one of the ancient combat stances, with small orange spheres streaking from his palms into the clump of white flame. He wasn't aiming at the cobra, but at someone else underneath it, someone who should have been dead a long time ago but was still struggling…

There was a sudden explosion!

A vortex of Light and scraps of Darkness. I was tossed onto my back and as I fell I hit Egor and knocked him down, but just managed to grab hold of his hand. Tiger Cub and the witch, locked together, shot across to the edge of the roof and froze against the barrier. Bear was torn off the vampire, who was badly mauled but still alive. Semyon staggered but stayed on his feet, protected by a dimly glowing defensive shield. The only thing blown off the roof was the unconscious warlock: On his way he broke through the rusty bars of the barrier and plunged downward in a helpless bundle.

But Ilya just continued standing where he had been, rooted to the spot. I couldn't see any defenses around him, but he just gazed curiously at what was going on, clutching his wand.

The remains of the fiery cobra soared upward, spreading out into glowing clouds, melting away, scattering in showers of sparks and fine rays of light. Beneath this fireworks display Zabulon slowly rose to his feet, extending his arms in some complex magical pass. He'd lost his clothes in the struggle and now he was completely naked. His body had changed, assuming the classical features of a demon: dull scales instead of skin, an irregular skull, covered with some kind of matted fur instead of hair, close-set eyes with vertical slits for pupils, a massive, dangling male member, and a short forked tail hanging from the base of his spine.

«Begone!» cried Zabulon. «Begone!»

The things that must have been going on at that moment in the human world… Outbursts of deadly depression and blind, irrational joy, heart attacks, ludicrous behavior, quarrels between best friends, betrayal by faithful lovers… People couldn't see what was happening, but it touched their souls.

But why?

Why did the Day Watch want all this?

And at that moment I suddenly felt calm, a state of icy, rational composure I'd almost forgotten.

It was all one complex maneuver. If we started from one simple idea, made one initial assumption—that everything was happening according to Day Watch's plan—and then connected up all the chance events, starting with my hunt in the metro—no, starting with the moment when the young vampire had been allocated a girl to feed on, a girl he couldn't help falling in love with.

My thoughts were moving as fast as if I were acting as a brainstorm conductor, connected up to other people's minds, the way our analysts sometimes worked. No, of course, that wasn't really happening; it was just that the pieces of the jigsaw had started moving around on the table in front of me, coming together.

Day Watch didn't give a damn about the girl-vampire…

Day Watch wouldn't risk open conflict for the sake of a kid with potentially great powers. Day Watch had only one reason for doing all this.

A Dark Magician with monstrous reserves of power.

A Dark Magician who could reinforce their position, not only in Moscow, but right across the continent…

But they'd already achieved that goal; we'd promised to hand over the Dark Magician…

The unidentified magician was the only unknown in the equation, the X. We could designate Egor as Y: His resistance to magic was far too high for any novice Other. But on the other hand, the boy was an already known quantity, with just one indeterminate factor…

And that had been deliberately introduced into the problem, to make it more complicated.

«Zabulon!» I shouted. Behind my back Egor was scrabbling and sliding on the ice as he tried to stand up. Semyon was backing away from the magician, still maintaining his defenses. Ilya was observing everything dispassionately. Bear was closing in on the twitching girl-vampire as she tried to stand up. Tiger Cub and the witch Alisa were moving toward each other again. «Zabulon!»

The demon looked at me.

«I know who you're fighting for!»

No, I didn't know yet. I was just beginning to understand, because the pieces of the jigsaw had come together and shown me a familiar face…

The demon opened its jaws—they shifted to the left and the right, like a beetle's. He was looking more and more like some giant insect; his scales had grown together into a single carapace; his genitals and tail had retracted; new limbs had begun to sprout from his sides.

«Then you're dead.»

His voice was the same as before; in fact, it sounded even more thoughtful and intelligent. Zabulon stretched his arm out toward me—it extended in jerks, growing new joints as it came.

«Come to me…« whispered Zabulon.

Everybody froze—apart from me. I started walking toward the Dark Magician. There was a trace left of the mental defenses I'd nurtured for years and years. There was just no way I could not obey Zabulon.

«Stop,» roared Tiger Cub, turning away from the battered but still snarling witch. «Stop!»

I really wished I could do as she said, but I just couldn't.

«Anton…« I heard someone say behind me. «Look back…«

That was something I could do. I turned my head, tearing my eyes away from the gaze of those amber eyes with the narrow, vertical slit pupils.

Egor was still squatting down; he didn't have the strength to get up. It was amazing that he was even conscious at all… after all, the external input into his energy reserves had been shut off. The external input that had attracted the boss's attention, that had been maintained from the very beginning. Factor Y. Introduced to complicate the situation.

The small ivory medallion on a copper chain dangled from Egor's hand.

«Catch!» the kid shouted.

«Don't take it!» Zabulon ordered me. But he was too late; I'd already bent down and grabbed the amulet as it came flying toward my feet. The carved medallion burned my hand when I touched it, as if I'd picked up a live coal.

I looked at the demon and shook my head:

«Zabulon, you no longer have power over me.»

The demon howled and came straight at me. His power over me was gone, but he still had plenty of strength.

«Tut-tut!» said Ilya.

A wall of white flame cut across the space between us. Zabulon howled as he hit the magical barrier and the sheet of pure white light flung him back. He shook his scorched paws, looking ridiculous now, not terrible at all.

«A complex move,» I said. «But elementary really, isn't it?»

Everything on the roof went quiet. Tiger Cub and the witch Alisa stood side by side, not even trying to attack each other. Semyon looked at me, then at Ilya, and I couldn't tell which of us had surprised him most. The girl-vampire was crying quietly, trying to get up. She was in the worst state of all; she'd used up all her strength in surviving the fight with Bear, and now she was struggling to regenerate. With an incredible effort she left the Twilight, becoming a vague silhouette.

Even the wind seemed to have died away…

«How can you make a Dark Magician out of someone who is fundamentally pure?» I asked. «How can you win over to the side of Darkness a person who doesn't know how to hate? You can shower problems on him whichever way he turns… bit by bit, a little at a time, hoping that he'll become embittered… But that doesn't work. This person… this girl… is too pure.»

Ilya gave a quiet laugh of approval.

«The only thing that she could hate,» I said, looking into Zabulon's eyes, now filled with nothing but powerless malice, «is herself. And that's the clever move. Unexpected. Let her mother fall ill. Let the girl devour her very soul, despising her own weakness and refusal to help. Drive her into a corner so tight, there's nothing else she can feel but hate, even if that hate is for herself. Of course, there is a divergence of probabilities. Just a slight chance that a single Night Watch agent who doesn't really know all that much about field work…«

My knees started to buckle—I wasn't used to staying in the Twilight this long. I would have fallen on my knees in front of Zabulon, something I really didn't want to do, but Semyon slid through the Twilight and supported me by the shoulders. He'd probably been doing that for a hundred and fifty years too.

«About field work…« I repeated, «might suddenly not behave according to plan, not trying to pity and comfort a girl for whom pity is fatal. He had to be distracted. A situation had to be created that would keep him busy. He had to be given a secondary assignment, and feel obliged to carry out that assignment for professional and personal reasons—anything that came to hand would do. An ordinary vampire could be sacrificed for that, couldn't he?»

Zabulon began transforming back to human form, rapidly assuming his former appearance as a gloomy intellectual.

That was funny. What for? When I'd already seen what he'd become in the Twilight, what he'd become once and forever.

«A complex maneuver,» I repeated. «I'll bet Svetlana's mother doesn't really have to die from any fatal illness at all. That was a minor intervention from your side, within the permitted limits… But then we have rights too.»

«She's ours!» said Zabulon.

«No.» I shook my head. «The Inferno's not going to erupt. Her mother's going to get well. I'm going straight to the girl now … and I'm going to tell her everything. Svetlana will join the Night Watch. You've lost, Zabulon. No matter what, you've lost.»

The tatters of clothes scattered across the roof crept toward the Dark Magician, grew together and jumped up onto his body, clothing the sad, charming intellectual grieving for the whole world.

«None of you will leave here,» said Zabulon. The Darkness began thickening behind his back, like two immense black wings unfurling.

Ilya laughed again.

«I'm stronger than all of you,» said Zabulon, squinting at Ilya. «Your borrowed powers are not unlimited. You will stay here forever, in the Twilight, deeper than you have ever dared to look…«

Semyon sighed and said, «Anton, he still hasn't gotten the picture yet.»

I looked around and asked:

«Boris Ignatievich, don't you think you could drop the playacting now?»

The bumptious young field operative shrugged:

«Of course, Antoshka. But I don't often get a chance to observe the head of the Day Watch in action. Don't hold that against an old man. I hope Ilya found it just as interesting being me…«

Boris Ignatievich resumed his normal form. Instantly, without any theatrical intermediate metamorphoses or light effects. He was still in his gown and skullcap, but he was wearing soft moccasins on his feet, with galoshes over them.

Zabulon's face was a sight for sore eyes.

The dark wings didn't disappear, but they stopped growing and flapped hesitantly, as if the magician was thinking about flying away but couldn't quite make up his mind.

«Wind up this operation, Zabulon,» the boss said. «If you withdraw immediately from this building and from Svetlana's house, we won't lodge an official protest.»

The Dark Magician didn't hesitate.

«We'll withdraw.»

The boss nodded, as if he'd never expected any other answer. Just for a moment I thought… He lowered the wand, and the barrier between me and Zabulon disappeared.

«I'll remember the part you played in this…« the Dark Magician hissed at me. «Forever.»

«Do,» I said. «It's good to remember.»

Zabulon brought his hands together—the mighty wings flapped together, and the magician disappeared. But before he went, he glanced at the witch—and she nodded.

I didn't like that one little bit. A spiteful parting gesture may not be fatal, but it's never pleasant.

Alisa came over to me, walking with a light, dancing step completely out of keeping with her bloody face and dangling, dislocated left arm.

«You must leave too,» said the boss.

«Of course, I'll be only too delighted,» replied the witch. «But before I do, I have one small, very small, debt to collect. Isn't that right, Anton?»

«Yes,» I whispered. «A seventh-degree intervention.»

Who would she strike her blow at? Not the boss; the idea was ludicrous. Tiger Cub, Bear, Semyon… that was stupid. Egor? What suggestion could she implant in him at the very weakest level of intervention?

«Open yourself,» said the witch. «Open yourself to me, Anton. A seventh-degree intervention. The head of the Night Watch is a witness: I won't overstep the mark.»

Semyon groaned, squeezing my shoulder so tight it hurt.

«She has the right,» I said. «Boris Ignatievich…«

«Whatever you say,» the boss answered softly. «I'm watching.»

I sighed and laid myself open to the witch. There was nothing she could do! Nothing! A seventh-degree intervention—she could never turn me to the Darkness with that! The idea was simply ludicrous!

«Anton,» the witch said gently. «Tell your boss what you wanted to say. Tell the truth. Act honestly and correctly. The way you ought to act.»

«Minimal intervention…« the boss confirmed. If there was any pain in his voice, it was so deeply hidden that I couldn't hear it.

«A complex maneuver,» I said, glancing at Boris Ignatievich. «From both sides. The Day Watch sacrifices its pawns, and the Night Watch does the same. For the great goal. In order to win over to their side a sorceress of immense, unprecedented power, a young vampire who is longing for love may die. A little kid with feeble powers may disappear forever in the Twilight. Operatives may be hurt. But there's an end that justifies the means. Two great magicians who have opposed each other for hundreds of years cook up another little war. And the Light Magician is in the toughest spot… he has to stake everything. And for him to lose is more than just an inconvenience; it's a step into the Twilight, into the Twilight forever. But still he stakes everyone's lives. His own side's and the other's. Right, Boris Ignatievich?»

«Right,» replied the boss.

Alisa laughed and walked toward the trapdoor. The witch was in no shape for flying; Tiger Cub had given her a good mauling. But even after that she was feeling victorious.

I looked at Semyon and he turned his eyes away. Tiger Cub slowly transformed back into a girl… also trying not to look me in the eye. Bear gave a short, sharp howl and trudged toward the trapdoor without changing his form. It was toughest of all for him. He was too uncompromising. Bear, the great warrior and opponent of all compromise…

«You're all bastards,» said Egor. He stood up, moving jerkily—not just because he was tired; the boss was feeding his reserves now; I could see the fine thread of power streaming through the air—because at first it's always hard to tear yourself out of your shadow.

I was the next out. It wasn't difficult; during the last quarter of an hour so much energy had been splashed out into the Twilight that it had lost its usual aggressive clamminess.

Almost immediately I heard a disgustingly soft thud: It was the warlock who'd fallen off the roof hitting the asphalt.

Then the others started appearing. An attractive-looking, black-haired girl with a bruise under her left eye and a broken jaw; an imperturbable, stocky little man, a calm-looking businessman in an oriental robe… Bear had already gone. I knew what he'd be doing in his apartment—his «lair.» Drinking pure surgical spirit and reading poetry. Probably out loud. And watching the happily burbling TV.

The girl-vampire was there too. She was in really bad shape. She mumbled something, shaking her head and trying to re-attach a hand that had been bitten off. The hand was making feeble efforts to grow back. Everything around her was spattered with blood—not hers, of course; it was the blood of her latest victim…

«Time to go,» I said, lifting the heavy pistol. My hand trembled treacherously.

The bullet smacked into the dead flesh, and a ragged wound appeared in the girl's side. The vampire groaned and squeezed it shut with her one good hand. The other was dangling on a few threadlike tendons.

«Don't,» Semyon said softly. «Don't, Anton…«

I went ahead, taking aim at her head. But at that moment a huge black shadow swooped down out of the sky, a bat grown to the size of a condor. It spread its wings, shielding the girl-vampire and convulsing as it transformed.

«She's entitled to a trial!»

I couldn't fire at Kostya. I stood there, looking at the young vampire who lived in the apartment above me. The vampire's eyes were trained directly on me. How long had you been sneaking around after me, my friend and enemy? And what for—to save your fellow vampire or to prevent me from taking a step that would make me your mortal enemy?

I shrugged and stuck the revolver into my belt. You were right, Olga. All this equipment is useless.

«She is,» the boss confirmed. «Semyon, Tiger Cub, escort her.»

«All right,» said Tiger Cub. She gave me a glance, more of understanding than sympathy, and set off toward the vampires with a spring in her step.

«Even so, she's for the high jump,» Semyon whispered and followed her.

That was how they left the roof: Kostya carrying the groaning girl-vampire, who had no idea what was going on, with Semyon and Tiger silently walking behind him.

The three of us were left alone.

«Son, you do have some powers,» the boss said gently. «Not great ones, but then most don't even have that. I'd be happy for you to be my pupil…«

«You can go…« Egor began. The remainder of the phrase had no place in polite conversation. The boy was crying silently, struggling to hold back the tears, but he couldn't stop them.

One tiny little seventh-degree intervention, and he'd feel better. He'd understand that to fight the Darkness, Light has to use every possible weapon available to it…

I looked up at the somber sky and opened my mouth to catch the cold snowflakes. I wanted to freeze. To freeze solid. Not like in the Twilight. To become ice, not mist; snow, not slush; to freeze, solidify, and never melt again…

«Egor, come on, I'll see you home,» I offered.

«It's not far, I'll be okay…« the kid said.

I went on standing there for a long time, gulping down snow mixed with wind, and I didn't notice him leave. I heard the boss ask: «Will you be able to wake your parents up on your own?» but I didn't hear the answer.

«Anton, if it's any comfort to you at all… the boy's aura's the same as it was. Still indeterminate…« He put his arm around my shoulders. He looked small now, pitiful, not at all like a well-groomed entrepreneur or a top-flight magician. Just a sprightly old man who'd won another brief battle in a war that had no end.

«Great.»

That's what I'd really like—to have no aura at all. To make my own destiny.

«Anton, you still have things to do.»

«I know, Boris Ignatievich…«

«Will you be able to explain everything to Svetlana?»

«Yes, I expect so… I will now.»

«I'm really sorry. But I have to use what I have… the people I have. You're linked with her. A standard mystical link, impossible to explain. No one can take your place.»

«I understand.»

The snow was settling on my face, thawing on my eyelashes, melting and dribbling down my cheeks. It felt as if I'd almost managed to freeze solid, but I didn't have the right.

«Remember what I told you? Being on the side of the Light is much tougher than being on the side of the Dark…«

«I remember…«

«It will be even tougher for you, Anton. You'll fall in love with her. You'll live with her… for a while. Then Svetlana will move on. And you'll see her moving farther away from you, see her contacts extending into places far higher than you can ever reach. You'll suffer. But nothing can be done about it. You play your part at the beginning. That's the way it is with every Great Magician, with every Great Sorceress. They achieve greatness by trampling over the bodies of their friends and loved ones. There is no other way.»

«Yes, I understand… I understand everything…«

«Let's go then, Anton?»

I didn't answer.

«Shall we go?»

«Aren't we late already?»

«Not yet. The Light has its own paths. I'll take you there by the short way, and after that, you follow your own path.»

«Then I'll just stand here for a while,» I said. I closed my eyes so that I could feel the snowflakes landing on my eyelids, so tenderly.

«If you only knew how many times I've stood like that,» said the boss. «Just like that, looking up into the sky, asking for something… Maybe a blessing, maybe a curse.»

I said nothing; I already knew there wouldn't be any answer.

«Anton, I'm frozen,» said the boss. «I feel cold. As a man. I want to drink a few glasses of vodka and snuggle down under a warm blanket. And lie there, waiting for you to help Svetlana… for Olga to deal with the vortex. And then take a vacation. Leave Ilya here in charge, since he's already been inside my skin, and head for Samarkand. Have you ever been to Samarkand?»

«No.»

«It's no great shakes, to be honest. Especially nowadays. There's not much good there, except the memories… But they're only for me… How are you doing?»

«Let's go, Boris Ignatievich.»

I wiped the snow off my face.

There was someone waiting for me.

And that's the only thing that stops us from freezing solid.