Nightwatch

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 fu

«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.