Night Watch

by Sergei Lukyanenko

  “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 naïve 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 un
der 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 people’s deaths 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!”