Day Watch

Prologue

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YUKHA MUSTAJOKI FLAGGED DOWN THE CAR-HE WAS THE SENIOR MEMber of their little group now. Yari Kuusinen and Raivo Nikkilya squeezed into the backseat of the old Zhiguli without speaking as Yukha took the seat in front.

"Take us to She-re-me-tie-vo," he said, speaking with emphatic clarity. Strangely enough, Russian had been the language of Mustajoki's childhood, although he'd managed to forget most of it afterward. But then he'd always had a talent for languages, and now he lived near the Russian border and made regular drinking trips to St. Petersburg. The others preferred the ferry to Sweden-on the overnight trip you could get really drunk on hard liquor bought in the duty-free shop, sleep it off during the day (who needed Stockholm, anyway?), and then indulge your expensive pleasure again on the way back. But Mustajoki had stubbornly kept on traveling to St. Petersburg. "Drive quick-ly and care-ful-ly," he said.

The driver drove. Quickly and carefully. Taking foreigners to the airport was a sheer delight for him. An out-of-work engineer making a living as a freelance taxi driver didn't often land a plum job like this. Especially at a time like this, just before the New Year, when the year 2000 was coming up and everybody was out working away, trying to make sure there'd be food for the festive table and good presents for the family.

The three Others sitting silently in the car weren't listening to the driver's thoughts, although they could have, of course.

After they'd already passed the Ring Road, Yukha turned to his comrades and said, "Are we really leaving then, brothers?"

Yari and Raivo nodded sympathetically. It really was hard to believe that it was all over-all the interrogations by the Night Watch, the visits by somber members of the Inquisition staff, the vigorous efforts of the Day Watch's adroit female vampire advocate, who was as well known among human beings as she was among Others.

They'd broken free. Broken free, been released from this terrible, cold, inhospitable city of Moscow, although they couldn't go home just yet: They were on their way to Prague, to where the Inquisition's European office had just relocated. But they had been released. With their rights restricted, with the obligation to register when they arrived anywhere, but even so…

"Poor Ollikainen…" Raivo sighed. "He was so fond of Czech beer. He used to say Lapin Kulta was the best beer in the world. He'll never drink beer again…"

"We'll drink a mug of beer for him," Yari suggested.

"Three mugs," Yukha added. "He was the most worthy of the Regin Brothers."

"And what about us?" Yari asked after a moment's thought.

"We are worthy too," Yukha agreed. "We did our duty."

For some reason when he said this all three of them lowered their eyes.

The small sect of Dark Others that called itself the Regin Brothers had existed in Helsinki for almost five hundred years. They were among the small number of Others who had not officially accepted the Treaty, but since they never committed any serious violations of its provisions, the Watches turned a blind eye to this. The Light Ones even seemed to be quite glad that twenty or thirty Dark Ones occupied themselves with harmless rituals, chanting, and archaeological explorations. The Dark Ones had made a couple of attempts to involve the Regin Brothers in the work of the Day Watch, but then they just gave up on them.

Until only recently Yukha, Yari, Raivo, and their friend who had been killed, Pasi Ollikainen, had regarded their involvement in the sect as a kind of curious, even amusing game. Their grandfathers and great-grandfathers had spent their entire lives as members of the sect, and their children would be Regin Brothers too… Their adopted children, that is. An Other is rarely fortunate enough to have a child who is also born with the abilities of an Other. That's only the norm for the lower Dark Ones, the vampires and shape-shifters…

It wasn't at all easy for the magicians of the small Finnish sect. They had to scout around the world, searching for Other children they could adopt, educate, and introduce to the great cause of service to Fafnir. As a rule, these children were found in the more underdeveloped and exotic countries.

Raivo, for instance, came from Burkina Faso. The little boy with the bulging eyes, legs bandy from rickets, and a swollen, flabby stomach had been bought from his poor parents for fourteen dollars. He had been cured of his illness, educated, and taught Finnish. And now, no one looking at this handsome, well-built young black guy ever could have guessed how strange his destiny was.

Yari had been found in the slums of Macao. At the age of four, with the help of his magical abilities, he was already a remarkably successful thief, which was how he was discovered by his future adoptive parents. They hadn't even had to pay anything for him. Yari hadn't grown very tall, but the Regin Brothers had been delighted with his sharp, tenacious mind and natural talent for magic.

Then there was Yukha, from Russia. Or rather, from somewhere in the south of Ukraine. He had suffered from wanderlust since he was a child, and at the age of seven he had traveled right across the country by jumping freight trains and hitchhiking, then crossed the border on foot, and one day he'd knocked on the door of the small townhouse owned by the Mustajokis, devoted members of the sect. There was no way that could be explained except by magical predestination.

By a wicked irony of fate, only the deceased Ollikainen had been a genuine Finnish boy.

The driver had never had such a strange group of passengers before-a young white guy with Ukrainian facial features, a tall guy with skin as black as pitch, and a short Asiatic with slanting eyes. And all three of them were speaking Finnish, or maybe Swedish, absolutely fluently. But then, you saw all sorts of things nowadays…

The first thing the Brothers did at the airport was study the timetable, but even here Russia 's muddleheaded cunning had a little snag in store for them: The flight to Prague turned out to have been postponed for the fourth time. True, there was another flight to Duisburg with a stopover in Prague. But the transit flight wasn't in the timetable, of course, while the plane to Madrid, also with a stopover in Prague, left at a very inconvenient time, and they had to redraw their plans right there at the ticket office. This reduced a burly young guy in a track suit, wearing a gold chain as thick as a finger and clutching a cell phone in his massive hairy hand, to a state of inexplicable fury. He was on the point of pushing little Yari out of the way, but Raivo concocted a hasty spell of respect, and after that the line that had gathered behind them stopped complaining about the leisurely manner in which the Finns were consulting.

"We'll take the Duisburg plane," Yukha decided at last. "It's more convenient. And we won't have to wait so long. They'll postpone the Prague flight another three times at least, won't they?"

Of course they would. The reality lines were woven into a tight knot, and the ill-fated flight wouldn't leave until late that evening.

The almost forgotten sensation of freedom was as intoxicating as their favorite Lapin Kulta beer. While Yukha was talking to the pretty girl at the ticket desk (who was already hassled out of her mind), Yari and Raivo enjoyed themselves staring around the large hall, looking at the passengers walking by, the sales assistants in the brightly lit aquariums of their little shops, the international airline offices that are always there in any major airport…

It was Yari who spotted the Other.

"Look!"

There was a Light magician standing at a counter near the exit to the boarding gates, drinking coffee from a small, dark green cup. And there was a half-empty travel bag lying beside his tall stool.

Yari and Raivo studied the Light One's aura for a while-he was perfectly composed and completely in control of his emotions. He must have noticed them, but he didn't give any sign.

"When are they ever going to leave us in peace?" Raivo sighed.

"Do you think he's following us?"

"Of course," Raivo said with conviction. "We have to present ourselves at a session of the Tribunal. And the Moscow Night Watch has to be certain that the witnesses they released have left for Prague. You'll see, he'll follow us all the way to the boarding ramp."

"But there's almost five hours left until our flight."

"The Other's in no hurry. He's working."

Yukha joined them with the tickets. There was a faint breath of magic coming from him-of course there hadn't been any tickets left for today's flight, so he'd had some taken from the special reserve by influencing the girl at the desk and the airport manager.

"Here, take them…" he began, but suddenly broke off. He looked closely at the other Brothers and asked, "What's wrong?"

"A spy. Over there at the counter, drinking coffee."

Yukha looked and saw the Light Other.

And just at that moment a murky red stripe cut across the even azure tone of the spy's aura.

"Something's upset him," Yari said

"Another One!" said Raivo. "Over there, by the way out!"

There was a dark-haired, stocky man aged thirty-something standing right beside the glass doors, wiping his forehead with his handkerchief with one hand, and holding a cell phone to his ear with the other. He wasn't saying anything, either, but obviously listening to lengthy instructions from someone. There was a small black briefcase standing beside him.

This Other was a Dark magician.

"And they're following us too," muttered Raivo.

"Why would anyone be interested in us?" Yukha asked doubtfully. "Any number of Others could have business at Moscow 's international airport!"

"Remain vigilant, brother!" Yari reminded him. "Fafnir is saddened and alarmed by carelessness."

Yukha thought gloomily that after the hopeless failure of the operation to deliver the Talon to Moscow, the resurrected Fafnir ought to incinerate all four of them. Or at least the three survivors. But, as usual, he didn't say anything out loud.

Meanwhile the Light One finished his coffee, cast a glance of displeasure at the Dark One, and set off in the general direction of the restaurant. His aura had returned to its even azure color, with a barely visible hint of cherry-red where the stripe had been.

The Dark One was still talking on his cell phone. Or rather, listening.

"They want to make sure we leave!" said the shrewd Raivo. "As if we weren't delighted to go-what have we got to do here?"

But Raivo was wrong.

The Light magician wandered around the airport for a while and then settled at the counter again, reading some book and sipping coffee. The Dark magician finished his conversation and walked across to the ticket desk, and the Brothers sensed a trace of magic. Quite strong magic, too-about fourth level.

"What's he doing there?" Raivo asked, getting worried. "Is he getting a ticket too? Eh? Yukha, he's not going to bother us, is he?"

"Why would he?" Yukha asked. "Look!"

The Dark magician walked away from the window in the counter with a ticket in his hand.

"They've canceled a ticket someone had already paid for," Raivo guessed. "Would you believe it? There'll be an uproar…"

And there was an uproar, when the passengers were registering for the flight four hours later, when they all found themselves in the same line, including the Light magician. One of the passengers was politely informed that his ticket had been sold to him by mistake, that the airline apologized to him and offered him a seat in business class on the next flight…

The Dark magician watched the outraged passenger's complaints as if nothing unusual was happening. He actually seemed to be smiling. But the Regin Brothers had no reason to smile- the Dark magician and the Light magician were flying on the same plane as them.

"They've decided to see us all the way to Prague," Raivo eventually announced. "They're taking this business seriously."

Yukha shook his head. "No, brother. No. Something's not right here. You'll see-they'll come up and want to talk to us…"