Day Watch

Chapter two

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The minibus was driven by Deniska, a young Dark magician so incredibly lazy that he preferred working in the garage among the vampires and other small timers. But his laziness didn't stop him knowing how to drive, and he knew perfectly a few spells that were essential for his job. We literally flew along the road as we made our way to the city center at a speed that the presidential cortege could only dream about. I felt the surges of Power when he examined the reality lines, made the militiamen look the other way, or made other drivers steer their cars off to the side. Sitting beside him was Edgar, a plump, swarthy, dark-haired magician from Estonia who looked nothing like a person from the Baltic, but possessed magical abilities that were almost second-level.

There were nine of us in the vehicle. I could hardly remember Anna Lemesheva ever leaving the Watch building before, but she was sitting in the chair by the door, monotonously reciting the guidelines:

"Darya Leonidovna Romashova. Sixty-three years old, looks considerably younger, probably constantly nourished by Power. Presumably a witch, but could possibly be a Dark Sorceress. Under observation for the last four years as an uninitiated Other."

At this point Lemesheva permitted herself to swear briefly and obscenely, addressing her abuse to the members of the detection department. "Apparently she refuses all contact. She avoids conversations on mystical subjects, citing her religious piety! What has faith got to do with the abilities of an Other? It's a different question who that Christ of theirs was…"

"Anna Tikhonovna, don't blaspheme," Lena said quietly but insistently. "I believe in the Lord God, too."

"I'm sorry, Lena," Lemesheva said with a nod. "I didn't mean to offend you. Let's continue… Romashova has probably been earning a bit from small-scale magic. Love potions, hate potions, hexes, removing curses…"

"The standard charlatan's stock-in-trade," I put in. "No wonder they didn't bother to check her seriously."

"And what about monitoring her results and finding out if she really did help people?" Lemesheva asked. "No, I'm going to write a report. If Zabulon thinks this is good work-then sack me! It's time for me to retire."

Olga cleared her throat in warning.

"I'm prepared to say it to his face!" Lemesheva was obviously worked up. "Well, I ask you, they suspect a woman is a witch for four years, but they don't bother to check properly! It's a standard procedure-we send an agent and monitor the discharge of Power… And the Light Ones did it, by the way!"

So that was it. Now I understood and I immediately gathered myself. What lay ahead wasn't just an incident with a crazy witch who had done something she shouldn't have. It was a fight with the Night Watch.

Vitaly growled indistinctly in his seat opposite me, more likely trying to keep his courage up than expressing delight at the battle ahead. He'd grown lazy standing watch, this brave mouse-hunter. I smiled spitefully, and the werewolf snarled and bared his teeth slightly. They had already started to grow, and his lower jaw was stretching forward.

"Vitaly, spare us the spectacle of transformation in the vehicle," Lemesheva said sharply. "In this heat the stink of dog will be quite unbearable!"

The trio of vampires on the backseat all began to laugh. I knew those guys quite well; they had been tested in action, and by and large, I didn't find them repulsive at all-not like most non-life. Three brothers, born a year apart, strong, well-built young men from an ordinary human family. The eldest had become a vampire first, when he was working in a regiment of paratroopers, and he'd done it deliberately, out of ideological considerations-his commanding officer, who was a vampire, had suggested the young man should become a vampire too. Their unit was in action somewhere in the South at the time. Things weren't going too well, and the young man had agreed. Of course, after that the unit became incredibly effective in battle. Killing a dozen enemies a night, penetrating the enemy's rear line, walking past sentries without being seen-for a vampire, even an inexperienced one, all this is child's play. Afterward, when he returned to civilian life, the young man had told his younger brothers everything, and they had offered up their own throats for biting.

"Anna Tikhonovna, how many of them are there?" Olga asked. "The Light Ones?"

"A few. Four… maybe five. But"-Lemesheva ran her stern gaze over all of us-"you mustn't relax, girls. There's at least one second-level Light magician."

The oldest vampire brother whistled. Facing a magician, especially one that powerful, was beyond a vampire's abilities. And if there were two of them…

"And the girl shape-shifter's there," said Lemesheva, looking at me.

I clenched my teeth. So, Tiger Cub was there. The shape-shifting battle magician, as the Light Ones preferred to call her. An old acquaintance of mine… and a close one. I seemed to feel an ache in my left arm, which she had once pulled out of its socket. And I remembered the wounds on my face-four bloody lines from her claws.

But Zabulon himself had helped me then. He had healed me completely so there was no damage either to my appearance or my health. And I used to go into battle boldly and cheerfully, feeling his approving glance and restrained, patient smile.

It's over. That's all behind you now, Aliska. What used to he is gone now. Forget it and don't torment yourself. If they tear your face, you'll have to wear the paranjah all the time, until your turn comes for magical healing, and the line's six months long. And you'll be lucky if they consider you worthy of complete healing, including cosmetic magic…

"Everybody check your equipment," Anna Lemesheva commanded.

The girls started bustling about, and I patted my pockets, checking on the tiny packets, little bottles, and amulets. A witch's Power doesn't lie only in controlling energy through the Twilight. We also employ auxiliary means, which is what really distinguishes us from sorceresses.

"Alisa?"

I looked at Lemesheva.

"Do you have any suggestions?"

That was better. I had to think about the future, not about the past.

"The operatives can neutralize Tiger Cub. All four of them."

"We don't need any help, Aliska," the oldest vampire brother said good-naturedly. "We'll manage."

Lemesheva thought for a moment and nodded

"All right, the three of you work together. Vitaly, you're with me, my reserve."

The werewolf smiled happily. What a fool. Anna Lemesheva would toss him into the fire like a splinter of wood. Right into the very hottest spot.

"And the four of us…"

"Five," Lemesheva corrected me.

Aha, so the old crone has decided to do some work herself?

"The five of us form a Circle of Power," I suggested. "And we feed it all to Edgar. Deniska maintains contact with headquarters."

The minibus bounced over a few potholes and bumps. We were already driving into the yard between the buildings.

"Yes, that's the only possible way to play it," Lemesheva agreed. "Take note, everybody! That's the way we'll work!"

I felt slightly excited that my plan had been accepted completely. I was still a genuine battle witch, after all. Even with all my personal problems. That was why I took the risk of speaking up and overstepping my bounds on the senior witch's final decision on how the group worked.

"But I would suggest summoning help in advance. If there are two second-level magicians there."

"All possible help has already been summoned," Lemesheva snapped. "And we still have an ace of trumps up our sleeves."

Vitaly looked at the old witch in surprise and grinned proudly with his wolf's fangs. A fool twice over. She didn't mean him. He was no ace, just a common low card… and certainly not a trump.

"Right, girls, let's get started!"

Our minibus stopped. Anna Lemesheva jumped out spryly and waved her left hand. A fine, dark dust swirled around her fingers for an instant and I felt a spell of inattention enfold the yard. Now, no matter what we did, ordinary people would take no notice of us.

We tumbled out of the minibus.

It was just an ordinary yard in South Butovo. Oh, what a dump… I'd rather live somewhere in Mytishchi or Lytkarino than be formally registered as a Muscovite and live in that terrible place. There seemed to be everything there should be: houses and stunted little trees trying to grow in the compressed clay, and wretched little cars standing at the entrances, but…

"Get on with it!"

Lemesheva gave me a kick that bounced me about three meters away from the minibus. I almost went flying into the sandbox, where a boy and a girl about five years old were discussing the mysterious art of building sandcastles.

But even the little children didn't notice me, although they're always more sensitive to the presence of Others.

The vampire brothers went dashing past me like three shadows. They surrounded the minibus, already in the process of transformation: Their fangs were growing out between their teeth, and their skin was taking on a pale, sickly tinge. The typical appearance of non-life…

"The Circle!" Lemesheva barked. I dashed across to the minibus like a bullet and grabbed Olya and Lena by the hand. Oh, the old witch was strong!

But there was someone standing in the entrance to the house, visible only to our sight as Others-a short, stocky guy… definitely a guy-you couldn't call him anything else-wearing worn Turkish jeans and a synthetic T-shirt, with a ridiculous cap on his head.

That was really bad.

The guy was called Semyon. And he was a magician of astounding power, even if he wasn't always quick to use it. Even more terrifying, he was a magician with immense experience of field operations…

I felt Semyon's gaze slip over me-firm, resilient, and flexible, like a surgical probe. Then Semyon turned and went back into the entrance hall.

This was really bad!

Then Zhanna grabbed Olga by the hand. Anna Lemesheva completed the circle-and all my emotions disappeared.

We became a living accumulator, connected to Edgar, who was already walking toward the entrance with a gentle, unhurried stride, at the human level of perception and in the Twilight at the same time.

Edgar walked up the stairs, just as his opponent had done. Of course, he didn't overtake him there. And when he reached the door of the apartment on the fourth floor, they were waiting for him. Fused into the Circle of Power, we were all perceiving the world through his sense organs now.

The door was standing open-at the human level of the world. In the Twilight, the doorway was blocked by a solid wall.

There were two magicians standing on the landing. Semyon and Garik. I couldn't feel any emotions now, but I still had my thoughts. Cold, calm, and unhurried. This was the end. Two magicians, each equal to or superior to Edgar.

"The entrance is closed," said Semyon. "There's a Night Watch operation taking place here."

Edgar nodded politely. "I understand. But there's also a Day Watch operation taking place here."

"What do you want?" Semyon moved aside slightly. Standing behind him in the narrow hallway of the apartment was a tigress. An immense beast with gleaming fur and its teeth exposed in a smug smile.

What is Lemesheva counting on? We can't handle this! There's no way!

"We'd like to take the person who belongs to us," Edgar said with a shrug. "That's all."

"The witch has been arrested and charged: magical intervention of the third degree, murder, practicing black magic without a license, concealing the abilities of an Other."

"You provoked her into taking this action," Edgar said coolly. "The Day Watch will conduct its own investigation of events."

"No." Semyon leaned against the wall and the blue moss crept convulsively along the surface, trying to get as far away as possible from the magician. "The matter is settled."

Garik didn't even say anything. He twirled a small amulet that looked like a cube of ivory in his fingers and glimmers of energy pierced the air. Most likely it was an ordinary magical accumulator…

"I'm going through and I'm taking what belongs to us," said Edgar.

He's incredibly calm. Maybe he also knows something that 1 don't?

The Light magicians didn't say a word. But such a piece of obvious stupidity seemed to have put them on their guard. The witch's fate now depended on who would conduct the investigation. If we could get her, we'd be able to defend her and make her one of us. If the Light Ones got her, then her life was over.

But better her life than all of ours! Two second-level magicians, a shape-shifter, and another two or three Others in the apartment! They'd crush us!

"I'm going in," Edgar said calmly and took a step forward. The Twilight around him howled as it filled with Power-the magician had set up a defensive screen.

All I remember after that is the battle.

The Light Ones struck as soon as Edgar took that step. Not with deadly spells, but an ordinary "press," trying to force our magician off the staircase. Edgar bent over as if he were walking into a wind and the outline of the Power vortex protecting him became clearly visible. The battle was being waged at the level of pure energy. It was primitive and not at all spectacular. Ah, if only Zabulon had been there instead of Edgar! He'd have forced them to expend all their energy and tossed those upstarts aside in an instant, drained of all their abilities!

But Edgar was putting up a worthy fight. For about five seconds he moved forward using his own Power, even forcing the press back to the door of the apartment. Then I felt the cold in my fingertips.

The magician had started to draw on our Power.

I immediately sensed the Light Ones tense as they spotted the energy channel between us and Edgar. They didn't try to disrupt it-a hasty attempt would only have led to Edgar absorbing their energy as well. They simply increased their pressure, counting on their own superiority. And I had the impression that the magicians concealed inside the apartment started feeding them with Power as well.

For a few moments everything hung in the balance. The current of our combined Power had immediately increased Edgar's pressure, but the Light Ones had their own reserves. The little cube in Garik's hand crumbled and scattered across the floor in golden dust and their counter-blow pushed Edgar back a meter. Olga began groaning beside me-her basic energy reserves were exhausted, and now she was pumping out the very substance of her Power, the deep reserves that can't be replenished so easily. She didn't seem to be in very good shape today.

What was Lemesheva hoping for?

There was a noise behind the backs of the Light Ones. Aha… the vampire brothers… they must have got in through the balcony…

But the magicians didn't even seem to notice what was happening. The tigress was the only one who went dashing toward the noise, brushing aside the puny furniture in her way and ripping the linoleum with her claws. And a moment later I heard a pitiful howl from one of the brothers.

Yes, three vampires weren't really enough for the shape-shifter…

"Vitaly!" Lemesheva commanded. The mental command slid through the Twilight and our werewolf dashed toward the entrance of the house, throwing off his clothes and changing into a wolf on the way. We continued feeding Edgar with energy and he started moving forward again, even managing to squeeze Garik back into the apartment. Then a huge wolf appeared from behind Edgar and rushed forward, paying no attention to the magicians.

It was a good idea. But inside the apartment the appearance of the werewolf was met with a bolt of fire. One of the Light Ones who had been kept in reserve had joined in the struggle, and he'd immediately shown that he was serious.

The werewolf's thick brown fur burst into flames and he leapt up into the air and fell on the floor, thrashing his paws about and rolling over and over, trying to put the flames out. If he had continued the attack, he would have had a chance to get to the magician before he could prepare a second fireball…

But he'd obviously been on watch duty for far too long.

Vitaly kept trying to put out the flames, and new charges kept striking him from out of the darkness. A second, a third, a fourth… Blood spurted out and burning lumps of flesh went flying through the air. The wolf howled and fell silent-only its back legs were twitching now, with its tail lying between them, blazing like a firework. It was actually quite beautiful.

The amulet hanging at my chest-a small crystal jug with a drop of red liquid sealed inside-crunched and shattered into tiny fragments. That was bad. It was a signal that my Power was running out and it simultaneously released my final reserve. A drop of the blood of a woman who has died giving birth to an Other is a very powerful source of energy, but even that wouldn't last for long.

" Lena!" Lemesheva ordered.

I felt the wordless command again and Lena left the Circle, moving slowly, like a sleepwalker. My right hand was left empty and the trance receded for a few seconds, before Anna Lemesheva reached out to me. But it was enough time for me to see something standing in the center of our Circle-a small folding table of black wood, with a slim blade of burnished steel lying on it. And Lena was already standing by the sandbox, frozen over the playing children as if she were choosing between them…

"The girl!" Lemesheva shouted. "One girl is more use than a dozen boys!"

Now I understood everything. Apart from one thing, that is. How had Anna Lemesheva been granted the right to a human sacrifice, and why had she decided to waste such tremendous Power on saving some ordinary witch?

But then Lemesheva grasped my hand and at once I became a mindless part of the Circle of Power.

Edgar was already squeezed back into the corner of the stairwell-they weren't just pushing him back now, they were trying to crush him against the wall. He threw up one hand: "Stop!"

A terrible pain…

The Circle was draining the very last drops of energy out of me, and Olga wasn't giving any more at all. She'd been wrung completely dry and she was standing there with us, twitching as if she were holding a bare power cable, and Zhanna was groaning quietly too, her head gradually sinking down onto her chest…

"We have the right to a sacrifice," Edgar said coolly. "If you don't let her go…"

The Light Ones froze. I saw the way they looked at each other and Garik shook his head.

But Semyon seemed to believe it right away.

A sacrifice provides a massive discharge of energy, especially if it's the sacrifice of a child; more if it takes place inside a Circle of Power; and even more if it's performed by an experienced witch. Lena Kireeva was standing inside the Ring, the knife already in her hands and the girl lying on the black table.

If we transferred the liberated Power into Edgar, the Light Ones wouldn't be able to stand up against it. Of course, they had extreme methods of their own, but did they have the authority to make use of them?

The shape-shifter tigress sprang out into the corridor. She must have been battering the vampire brothers on the balcony and seen what we were preparing to do.

"You can't stand against us," Edgar said aloofly. "We'll take what is ours anyway, and a human child will die. And you'll be to blame."

The Light Ones were dumbfounded. It was hardly surprising: The situation behind this particular conflict didn't seem particularly important in any way. It wasn't a matter of states threatening nuclear strikes against each other if their agents were arrested for spying. Others don't threaten to use first-degree magic in the case of a petty conflict between operational agents.

But the Light Ones were still keeping up the pressure on our magician. They were maintaining the press, if only by inertia, and we had no more Power left to share with Edgar. Olga had gone rigid and lost consciousness, and now she was standing in the ring like a limp wooden puppet. Zhanna was already sinking to her knees, but heroically maintaining a grip with her hands and giving a few final crumbs of energy. Lena 's face contorted in an agonized grimace and she raised the knife above the twitching little girl. She was conscious, otherwise the discharge of energy would have been reduced, but she was restrained by a spell of silence. My body felt as limp as cotton wool and I was beginning to sway. I wish they'd hurry… I won't be able to hold out…

"Stop!" shouted Semyon. "We surrender the witch!"

Hold it… hold the Circle. I tried to draw energy out of the surrounding space, out of the little girl who was frightened to death, out of the people walking by a little distance away and diligently paying no attention to what was going on.

It was useless. I'd been completely drained of everything. It was Lemesheva… that was why she was standing there stronger than everyone else, the lousy… We were all going to die here for an old woman no one needed, and she'd be left, that vile creature.

But the Light Ones had already shoved a scruffy, plump woman in a dirty housecoat and torn slippers into Edgar's arms. She didn't understand a thing-she was staring all around and trying to cross herself.

"You'll pay for this" were Semyon's last words.

Edgar pulled the witch's arm behind her back with a sharp jerk-he had no time for explanations and no strength left for magic. He dragged her down the staircase.

Hold the Circle…

A sacrifice is an act of such great Power that it is best held in reserve. The right to use it might have been won twenty or thirty years earlier by the cunning use of intrigue and provocation. That was why Kireeva was still standing stony-faced above the little girl, with the knife gleaming in her hand, ready to cut out her heart in a single swift movement, while Deniska monotonously recited the words of the appropriate spells. At any moment we could have received a powerful stream of energy… only it was better to do without it.

Hold the Circle…

My fury was the only thing that saved me. Fury with the entire unsuccessful day, with all the failures of the last year, and with Lemesheva, who clearly knew more than she was saying.

I don't know where I found those final crumbs of Power, but I did! And I drove them through the limp bodies of Olga and Zhanna, so that Lemesheva could transmit the thin stream of Power to Edgar…

The first to jump into the minibus were the vampire brothers… those damn useless field agents… Then Lena let the little girl go and she went rushing off, howling. Deniska stopped reciting spells, picked up the little table, and tossed it into the back of the minibus. And it was only then that Lemesheva broke the Circle.

Everything was swimming in front of my eyes. For some reason I started coughing as I tried in vain to free my hand from Olga's rigid fingers.

"Into the bus!" Anna Lemesheva shouted. "Quickly!"

Edgar appeared-at least he looked fairly cheerful. He tossed the witch into the back of the bus and jumped into the seat beside Deniska. Anna Lemesheva dragged Olga into the bus and I helped Zhanna get in-she was in a very bad way, but she was still conscious.

"Who are you? Who are you?" the rescued woman wailed. Lemesheva slapped her across the face with all her might and the witch shut up.

"Deniska, step on it," I said. As if he needed to be told…

We tore out of the yard with a screech of tires. Edgar was holding his head in his hands and working-correcting the reality lines and clearing the way ahead of us.

"Feeling bad, Aliska?" Lena asked with avid curiosity. I gritted my teeth and shook my head. But Lena complained, "I'm completely exhausted. I'll have to take some time off."

The rescued witch whined quietly until she caught my hate-filled glance. Then she immediately fell silent and tried to move back and away from me, but the vampires were sitting there. Battered, bloody, and angry-I thought they'd been sensible enough to try to keep away from the shape-shifter, but each of them had caught one or two blows from her paws.

"And they burnt Vitalik to ashes…" Deniska said gloomily. "He was an idiot, of course, but he was our idiot… Anna Tikhonovna, are you sure this bitch was worth all this bother?"

"The order came from Zabulon," Lemesheva replied. "He probably knows best."

"He could have helped us then," I couldn't help remarking. "This was a job for his powers, not for ours."

Anna Lemesheva gave me a curious kind of glance. "I think not. You made a wonderful effort, my girl. Quite marvelous. I didn't expect you to provide so much Power."

I barely managed to stop myself from crying like a child. To hide my tears I looked at Olga-she was still unconscious. At least I could take comfort in that-she'd come off far worse than me… I raised myself up with a struggle and slapped Olga on the cheek. No response. I pinched her. She didn't stir.

Everybody was looking at me curiously. Even the quietly swearing vampires stopped licking their wounds and waited.

"Anna Tikhonovna, couldn't you help her?" I asked. "She was hurt in the line of duty, and according to instructions…"

"Alisa, my dear, how can I help her?" Lemesheva asked in an affectionate voice. "She's dead. Since five minutes ago. She miscalculated and drained herself completely"

I pulled my hand away. Olga's limp body jerked to and fro in the chair and her chin lolled across her chest.

"What, can't you tell?" Zhanna whispered. "Aliska, what's wrong with you?"

Telling the living from the dead doesn't require any spells. It's elementary Power work. That subtle substance that some call the soul is sensed immediately… if it's there.

"You gave up too much Power!" said Lena. "Oh, Alisa, you're completely empty now! For five years-empty. Like Yulia Bryantseva, who drained herself during an operation two years ago, and ever since then she can't even enter the Twilight!"

"Don't get your hopes up," was all I said, trying to keep a calm expression on my face. "According to the instructions, they have to help me restore myself."

It sounded pitiful.

"Did they help Bryantseva?" Lena asked.

But Anna Lemesheva sighed and said, "Alisa, if only everything had been according to the instructions a year ago, when Zabulon was so fond of you."

Before I could even think of a reply, the rescued witch suddenly squealed hysterically: "Where are you taking me? Where are you taking me?"

That's when I lost it. I jumped up and started beating the solitary witch on the face, trying to scratch her as badly as I could. She was so frightened she didn't even try to resist. I pounded her for about three minutes to the approving cries of the vampire brothers, reproaches from Lemesheva, and encouragement from Lena and Zhanna. The only one who didn't say anything was dead Olga, whom I kept stumbling over in the crowded space of the minibus. But I think she would have supported me.

Then I sat down to catch my breath. The old witch was sobbing and feeling her bloodied face. If only they were chasing us! I'd bite into those Light Ones' throats as hard as any vampire! I'd finish them off without any magic!

But there wasn't anyone chasing us.

Nobody could have called our return triumphant.

The vampires took Olga's body and set off with it to our headquarters without saying a word, as if they even understood the full tragedy of the situation. But then why shouldn't they understand? They had swapped life for non-life, but they could still think and feel, and theoretically they could carry on existing like that for all eternity. But now Olga was gone forever.

Deniska drove the minibus away to the parking lot. Edgar took the rescued witch firmly by the arm and led her toward the Watch building. She didn't resist. We brought up the rear of the procession.

Carrying a body along a crowded street in the center of Moscow, close to the walls of the Kremlin, is not the most relaxing of occupations, even with the spell of inattention that Lemesheva had pronounced again. People didn't look at us, they just quickened their step and walked around the procession. But the Twilight became agitated.

The fabric of existence is woven too fine here. There's too much blood, too many emotions, the traces of the past are too clearly evident. There are places like that, where the boundary between the human world and the Twilight is almost imperceptible, and the center of Moscow is one of them.

If I'd been in a fit state, I would have seen the surges of Power emerging from the depths of a different reality. Probably even Zabulon couldn't explain exactly what stands behind them. All that we could do was pay no attention to the greedy breathing of the Twilight that had sensed the death of a witch in magical combat.

"Faster!" Lemesheva said, and the vampires quickened their stride. The Twilight must have become seriously agitated.

Only I couldn't tell any longer.

We went in the door that was invisible to human beings, and Lena had to take me and Zhanna through. Our colleagues were already running toward us. The witch, who had started yelling again, was dragged off to the interrogation room on the tenth floor. Olga was handed directly to magicians from the department of healing (without the slightest hope of being able to help, but the fact of death had to be registered). One of the healers on duty examined us carefully. He shook his head disapprovingly as he assessed Zhanna's condition and frowned when he looked at the battered vampires. But when he turned his attention to me, his face simply froze.

"Is it really that bad?" I asked.

"That's putting it mildly," he said without superfluous sentimentality. "Alisa, what were you thinking of when you gave out your Power?"

"I was acting according to instructions," I answered, feeling my tears welling up again. "Edgar would have been killed-he was up against two second-level magicians!"

The healer nodded. "Very praiseworthy zeal, Alisa. But the price is very high too."

Edgar was already hurrying toward the elevator, but he stopped and gave me a look of sympathy. Then he came over to me and kissed the palm of my hand. These Baltic types are always making themselves out to be Victorian gentlemen.

"Alisa_; my most profound gratitude! I could sense that you were giving everything you had. I was afraid that you would go the same way as Olga." He turned to the healer. "Karl Lvovich, what can be done for this brave girl?"

"I'm afraid nothing can be done," the healer said with a shrug. "Alisa was drawing Power from out of her own soul. It's like acute dystrophy, if you get my meaning. When the body doesn't have enough food, it starts digesting itself. It destroys the liver, the muscles, the stomach-anything to maintain the brain until the very last. Our girls found themselves in a similar situation. Zhanna seems to have lost consciousness in time and stopped drawing on her final reserves. Alisa and Olga held out to the end, but Olga's inner resources were not so great and she died. Alisa survived, but her mental reserves have been totally exhausted."

Edgar gave a sympathetic nod and everyone else listened to the doctor with interest as he continued with his florid rhetoric. "The special abilities of an Other are similar in some ways to any other energy reaction-take a nuclear reaction, for instance. We maintain our abilities by drawing Power from the world around us, from people and other less complex objects. But in order to begin receiving Power, first you have to invest some of your own-such is the cruel law of nature. And Alisa has practically none of that initial Power left. Simply pumping in Power is no help in this case, just as a piece of heavily salted pork fat or an overcooked, crispy steak won't save someone who's starving to death. The body can't digest that kind of food-in fact, it will kill, not cure. It's the same thing with Alisa-we could pump energy into her, but she would choke on it."

"Could you please not talk about me in the third person?" I asked. "And not in that tone of voice!"

"I'm sorry, my girl." Karl Lvovich sighed. "But what I'm saying is the truth."

Edgar gently released my hand and said, "Alisa, don't take it too much to heart. Perhaps the chief will think of something. And by the way, talking about steaks… I'm absolutely ravenous."

Lemesheva nodded. "Let's go to some little bistro."

"Wait for me, okay?" said Zhanna. "I'll just take a shower, I'm lathered in sweat…"

I didn't even have enough strength left to feel horrified. I stood there like a fool, listening to their conversation, trying to sense anything at all at the level of an Other. To see my real shadow, to summon the Twilight, to feel the emotional background…

There was nothing.

And they seemed to have forgotten about me already.

If it had been Zhanna or Lena in my place, I would have behaved exactly the same way. After all, there's no point in hanging yourself just because someone else got careless, is there? Did anyone ask me to give everything, down to the very last drop? No, it was my fault for trying to be a hero!

It was all because of Semyon and Tiger Cub. When I realized who we'd come up against, I decided to take my revenge. To prove something… to someone… for some reason…

Now what was I going to do? I'd proved it, all right, and I'd been crippled. And far more badly than in the fight with Tiger Cub…

"Just be quick, Zhanna," said Lemesheva. "Alisa, will you come with us?"

I turned toward her, but before I could say anything, someone spoke behind my back: "Nobody's going anywhere."

Lemesheva's eyes opened wide and I shuddered as I recognized that voice.

Zabulon was standing by the elevator.

He was in his human form: skinny and sad-looking, with a rather preoccupied air. Many of our people only know him like that-calm and unhurried, even a little bit boring. But I know another Zabulon too. Not the restrained boss of the Day Watch, not the mighty warrior who takes on demonic form, not the Dark magician beyond classification… but a cheerful, inexhaustibly inventive Other. Simply an Other, without any traces of the gulf between us, as if there were no difference in age, experience, or Power.

That's the way it used to be. Before…

"Everybody come to my office," Zabulon ordered. "Immediately."

He disappeared-dived into the Twilight probably. But before that he rested his glance on me for a brief moment. There was no expression at all in his eyes. No mockery or sympathy or affection.

But he did look at me, and my heart stood still. For the last year Zabulon had seemed not even to notice the unfortunate witch Alisa Donnikova.

"So much for bistros and showers," Lemesheva said dourly. "Come on, girls."

It was an accident that I ended up sitting apart from the others.

My feet automatically took me to the armchair by the fireplace-the broad leather armchair in which I used to curl up, half-sitting, half-lying, watching Zabulon at work, looking at the smokeless flame in the hearth, the photographs hanging all round the walls…

When I realized that I'd unwittingly separated myself from the others, who had taken appropriate places on the divans by the wall, it was already too late to change anything. It would only have looked stupid.

Then I kicked off my sandals, pulled my feet up, and made myself comfortable.

Lemesheva glanced at me in astonishment before she started her report. The others didn't even dare to look-their eyes were fixed adoringly on the boss. The sycophantic toadies!

Leaning back in his chair behind his huge desk, Zabulon didn't react to me at all either. At least not on the outside.

Well, don't look then…

I listened to Lemesheva's smooth voice-she delivered her report well, speaking briefly and to the point, nothing superfluous was said and nothing important was omitted. And I looked at the photograph hanging above the desk. It was very, very old, taken a hundred and forty years earlier, using the colloidal method- the boss once gave me a detailed explanation of the differences between the "dry" and "wet" techniques. The photograph showed Zabulon in old-fashioned clothes as a student at Oxford, against the background of the tower of Christ Church College. It was a genuine original by Lewis Carroll. The boss once remarked that it had been very difficult to persuade the "dried-up prim and proper poet" to spend some time on one of his own students instead of a little girl. But the photograph had turned out very well-Carroll must have been a real master. Zabulon looks serious, but there's a lively glint of irony in his eyes, and he looks a lot younger too… but then, what does a century and a half mean to him…

"Donnikova?"

I looked at Lemesheva and nodded. "I entirely agree. If the absolutely essential goal of our mission was to free the prisoner, then forming the Circle of Power and threatening to perform the sacrifice was the best solution." I paused for a moment and then added skeptically, "Of course, that's if that stupid fool was worth all the effort."

"Alisa!" There was a metallic ring to Lemesheva's voice. "How dare you discuss the chief's orders? Chief, I apologize for Alisa. She's overwrought and not… not entirely well."

"Naturally," said Zabulon. "Alisa effectively ensured the success of the entire operation. She sacrificed all her Power. It's hardly surprising that she feels like asking questions."

I raised my head sharply at that. Zabulon was quite serious. Not a hint of mockery or irony.

"But…" Lemesheva began.

"Who was just talking about respect for seniority?" Zabulon interrupted her. "Be quiet."

Lemesheva broke off.

Zabulon got up from behind the desk and walked over to me without hurrying. I kept my eyes fixed on him, but I didn't get up.

"That stupid fool," said Zabulon, "was not worth all the effort. Of course not. But the actual operation against the Night Watch was extremely important. And all of the injuries you suffered in the battle are entirely justified."

I felt as if I'd been stabbed in the back. "Thank you, Zabulon," I replied. "It will be easier for me to live through all these years, knowing that my efforts were not in vain."

"All what years, Alisa?" Zabulon asked.

It was strange… we hadn't spoken at all for a whole year… I hadn't even received any orders from him in person… and now when he spoke to me, there was that cold, prickly lump in my chest again.

"The healer said it will be a long time before I can restore my Power."

Zabulon laughed. And then suddenly he reached out his hand! He patted me on the cheek… affectionately… in that old, familiar way…

"Never mind what the healer said…" Zabulon declared peaceably. "The healer has his opinion, and I have mine."

He took his hand away and I had to struggle to stop my cheek following it…

"I think no one will disagree that Alisa Donnikova was substantially responsible for the success of today's operation?"

Aha… I'd have liked to see anyone try to object! Lemesheva simply remarked cautiously, "We all made a significant effort…"

"From your condition it's not hard to see who made what kind of effort."

Zabulon went back to his desk, but he didn't sit down. He just leaned over with his hands on the desktop, looking at me. I think he was studying me closely through the Twilight.

But I couldn't sense it…

"Is everyone agreed that the Day Watch should help Alisa?" Zabulon inquired.

A glint of fury appeared in Lemesheva's eyes. The old witch had once been Zabulon's girlfriend herself. That was why she had hated me when I was in favor… and why she had become fond of me as soon as the chief turned his back on me.

"If it's a matter of help," she began, "then Karl Lvovich made a good comparison. We are prepared to share our Power with Alisa, only that would be like giving a dying person a piece of fatty bacon instead of light broth. But I am willing to try…"

Zabulon turned his head and Lemesheva shut up.

"If light broth is what is required, then she shall have light broth," he said in a very calm voice. "You can all go."

The vampire brothers were the first to jump to their feet, then the witches stood up. I started shuffling my feet about, looking for my sandals.

"Alisa, you stay, if it's no trouble," Zabulon said.

The glint in Lemesheva's eyes flared up-and then faded away. She had realized what I was still afraid to believe in.

A few moments later Zabulon and I were left alone, looking at each other without speaking. My throat was dry and my tongue wouldn't obey me. No, it couldn't be true… I shouldn't even try to deceive myself…

"How are you feeling, Alya?" Zabulon asked.

Only my mother ever calls me Alya. And Zabulon used to call me that…

"Like a squeezed lemon," I said. "Tell me, am I really such a terrible fool? Did I exhaust myself doing a job that is no use to anybody?"

"You did very well, Alya," said Zabulon.

And he smiled.

The same way he used to smile. Exactly the same way.

"But now I…" I stopped, because Zabulon took a step toward me-and I didn't need words anymore. I couldn't even get up out of the chair: I put my arms round his legs and hugged him, pressed myself against him-and burst into tears.

"Today you laid the foundation for one of our finest operations," said Zabulon. His hand was ruffling my hair, but at that moment he seemed to be somewhere very far away. Of course, a Great Magician like him could never afford to relax: He carried responsibility for the entire Day Watch of Moscow and the surrounding region, for the fates of the ordinary Dark Ones living their calm and peaceful lives. He had to fight the intrigues of the Light Ones and pay attention to people's needs… "Alisa, after your stupid trick with the Prism of Power, I decided you weren't really worthy of my attention."

"Zabulon, I was a conceited fool…" I whispered, swallowing my tears. "Forgive me. I let you down…"

"Today you made up for everything."

Zabulon lifted me up out of the armchair in a single swift movement. I stood on tiptoe, otherwise I would have been left dangling in his arms, and I remembered how astonished I had been the first time by the incredible strength of his skinny body. Even when he was in his human form…

"Alisa, I'm pleased with you," he said and smiled. "And don't worry about having drained your Power. We have certain special reserves."

"Like the right to perform a sacrifice?" I asked, trying to smile.

"Yes," Zabulon nodded. "You're going on vacation, starting from today. And you'll come back better than ever."

My lips started trembling treacherously. What was happening to me? I was wailing like a hysterical child. My mascara must have run all over my face, I didn't have a single ounce of Power left…

"I want you," I whispered. "Zabulon, I've been so lonely…"

He gently took my arms away. "Afterward, Alya. When you come back. Otherwise it would be…" Zabulon smiled. "… an abuse of my official position for personal ends."

"Nobody would dare say that to you!"

Zabulon looked into my eyes for a long time. "There are some who would, Alya. Last year was a very difficult one for the Watch and there are many who would like to see me humiliated."

"Then don't do this," I said quickly. "Don't take the risk. I'll restore my own Power bit by bit…"

"No, it's the right thing to do. Don't you worry, my little girl."

My heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. At that calm, confident Power.

"Why would you take such a risk for me?" I whispered, not expecting any answer, but Zabulon did answer:

"Because love is also a power. A great power, and it should not be disdained."