Day Watch

Her voice expressed an entire spectrum of emotions and aspirations that I felt no desire to analyze. Somehow I didn't feel like demonstrating my own Power in front of Edgar and the other powerful Dark Ones.

But Edgar's attention had been caught, and I could see he was genuinely interested in how I would answer.

"Well, in a certain sense, I'm new."

The young witch smiled. "Is it true that you defeated four Light warriors single-handed and killed the tiger-woman?"

Edgar curved his lips very slightly in a sarcastic smile, but he still said nothing, listening with interest.

"Yes."

The witch had no time to ask any more questions. We'd arrived.

"Alita," Edgar said in a deep, hollow voice, "you can pester our guest later. First go and report to A

Alita nodded enthusiastically and then turned to me: "Can I come around and see you for coffee? In about an hour?"

"Yes, okay," I agreed. "Only I haven't got any coffee."

"I'll bring some," the pretty witch promised, and she set off for the office.

She didn't ask where I was staying, which meant she already knew.

For a few seconds I watched the witch from behind. Her stylish silver jacket, the kind that mountain skiers and tourists wear (I was immediately reminded of my acquaintances from the for-est), was decorated with a brightly colored image: a cartoon of a girl with big eyes and her foot thrust out in a kick, with the caption "Battle Angel Alita." The drawing and the caption were partly covered by the witch's long hair, which was hanging down across the jacket.

Edgar also looked as Alita walked away. There was plenty to look at, despite the winter outfit.

"She'll come," Edgar said thoughtfully. "She's already asked about you."

I shrugged. "The Tribunal's tomorrow," I said, changing the subject. "What should I do? Skip it? Go with everyone else?"

"Go with everyone else, of course. You're a witness." Edgar looked around. "Would you come into the office for a moment?"

"All right."

Somehow I was quite sure this office had never been used by the genuine head of the Day Watch, who wasn't in Moscow right then. It was more likely Edgar's office or the office of one of the senior Dark Ones. I slumped gratefully into an armchair, noting to myself that it was far more comfortable than the sagging seats in the metro carriages. Edgar took an already opened bottle of cognac out from somewhere under the desk.

"Shall we take a shot?" he suggested.

"Sure."

Who would want to refuse old Koktebel?

"I'm glad you've come back," said Edgar, pouring the cognac. "Otherwise we would have had to go looking for you."

"In order to clarify our tactics and strategy at tomorrow's session of the Tribunal?" I asked, guessing.

"Exactly."

It was good cognac. Smooth and aromatic. Maybe it wasn't the most famous and prestigious brand (which one is, anyway?), but I really enjoyed it.

"I won't even ask any more why you behave so strangely. To be quite honest, I've been instructed not to. From up there." Edgar raised his eyes expressively to the ceiling. "And I'm not going to try to figure out who you really are, either. For the same reason. All I want to ask is: Are you on our side? Are you with the Day Watch? With the Dark Ones? Can we count on you as one of ours tomorrow?"

"Definitely," I said, without even pausing for thought. Then I made it even clearer: "That's the answer to all your questions."

"That's good," Edgar said with a rather weary sigh and drained his spherical glass in a single gulp.

I didn't think he believed me.

We finished the cognac in total silence. Edgar didn't find it necessary to hold a consultation on how to behave at the next day's session of the Tribunal. He had clearly decided that I'd behave however I wanted to anyway. And he was absolutely right.

I spent the night with Alita, over coffee and conversation. The young witch had even managed to get hold of that long-forgotten brand Casa Grande. We settled down in the armchairs and chatted-about everything and nothing. It was a long time since I'd had such a good time, just sitting and chatting. About music, which I turned out to know quite a lot about. And literature, which I knew rather less about. And movies, which I knew absolutely nothing about. Every now and then, Alita tried to get me to talk about myself and my abilities, but she did this so artlessly that I never even suspected she could have been sent by the vigilant A

An hour before dawn there was a knock at the door.

"It's open," I shouted.

Edgar and A

"Are you ready?" Edgar asked.

"Always prepared, like a Young Pioneer," I assured him. "Are we moving out in close formation? In armored vehicles or in marching order?"

"Don't play the clown," said A

"All right, I won't," I promised. "Where are we going? I don't even know."

In fact, I had no doubt that the reliable internal guide, buried somewhere in the depths of my mind, would tell me where we were going and which direction to follow. But I asked anyway.

"The main building of Moscow University," Edgar told me. "Up in the tower. Shagron's waiting downstairs with his car- you can go with him."

"Okay. I'll go with him."

"Good luck," said Alita, heading for the door. "I'll call around tomorrow, okay, Vitaly?"

"No," I said gloomily. "You won't."

I knew for certain that I was right. But as yet I didn't understand why.

Alita shrugged and walked away. A

I reached for my cell phone and dialed Shagron's number, too fast even to be surprised that I knew it.

"Shagron? This is your guest from the South. Can you give me a lift? Uh-huh, I'm on my way."

"Okay, I'll get going too," said Edgar. "Don't drag it out. The Inquisition gets very touchy when someone's late."

I put my coat on, locked my door, and went down in the elevator. The vampires on watch looked at me a lot more calmly this time-either their immediate superiors had had a heart-to-heart talk with them, or they'd realized the truth for themselves. But then, what was the truth? It refused to reveal itself even to me. There were only sudden, brief glimpses of one piece of the mosaic when the curtain was raised for an instant and then descended again, and that impenetrable, misty shroud obscured my sight.

Shagron's BMW was snorting out exhaust fumes about twenty meters away, right under the No Stopping sign. I got in on Shagron's right.

"Good morning."

"I hope it's a good one," Shagron barked. "Shall we go?"

"Yes, if we're not waiting for anyone else, let's go."

Shagron slid into the dense stream of traffic without saying another word.

Driving around snow-covered Moscow in rush hour is a really special experience. Occasionally Shagron pacified the over-keen nearby drivers through the Twilight. Otherwise they would have been cutting in front of us, forcing us over into the next lane, and then squeezing us out of the gaps that suddenly opened up. I put my safety belt on just in case. Shagron muttered something with his teeth clenched. He was probably swearing.

After my sleepless night I had an almost irresistible yearning for a blissful doze, especially since the seats in this quality German automobile encouraged just that. If I'd tried listening to music, I'd have been sure to be lulled into sleep. But I didn't feel like listening to music just then, so I stayed in this world filled with the roar of dozens of engines, the quiet hum of the air-conditioner, the shrill honking of car horns, and the swish of dirty gray slush under our mudguards.