The Nightwatch

by Sergei Lukyanenko

  Conversations in the Twilight move a lot faster than they do in the human world. But I still had to divide myself between Olga and Svetlana.

  "Anton, don't bother your head about my problems."

  In spite of everything, I felt like laughing. Right then there were hundreds of heads trying to deal with her problems, and Svetlana had no idea; she knew nothing about it. But it was enough to mention other people's problems, so tiny in comparison with the black inferno vortex, and she immediately started worrying about them.

  "You know," I said, "there's a law called the law of paired events. You have problems, but I wasn't talking about them. There's someone else who has really big problems. His own personal problems. But that doesn't make them any easier."

  She understood. I liked the fact that she wasn't embarrassed, either. She just added:

  "My problems are personal too."

  "Not entirely," I said. "At least, I don't think so."

  "And that other person—can you help him?"

  "Someone else will help him," I said.

  "Are you sure? Thanks for listening to me, but it's impossible to help me. It's just my dumb destiny, I guess."

  "Is she throwing me out?" I asked through the Twilight. I didn't want to touch her mind right then.

  "No," Olga replied. "No… Anton, she can feel it."

  Did she really have some Other powers? Or was it just a freak upsurge, triggered by the Inferno?

  "What can she feel?"

  "That you're needed at the other place."

  "Why me?"

  "That crazy bloodsucking bitch is demanding you for the negotiations. The one who killed her partner."

  That really made me feel sick. We'd done an elective on anti-terrorist tactics, more so that we could avoid having to use our powers as Others if we got caught up in human disputes than for any real requirements of the job. We'd covered terrorist psychology, and in those terms, the vampire was acting perfectly logically. I was the first Watch agent she had ever come across. I'd killed her mentor and wounded her. For her the image of her enemy was concentrated in me.

  "How long has she been asking for me?"

  "About ten minutes."

  I looked into Svetlana's eyes. Dry, calm, not a single tear. The hardest thing of all is when pain is hidden behind a mask of calm.

  "Sveta, would you mind if I went now?"

  She shrugged.

  "This is all so stupid…" I said. "It seems to me that you need help right now. At least someone who can listen to you. Or is willing to sit beside you and drink cold tea."

  A faint smile and a barely perceptible nod.

  "But you're right… there is someone else who needs help."

  "Anton, you're strange."

  I shook my head:

  "Not strange. Very strange."

  "I have this feeling… I've known you for a long time, but it's like we'd never met before. And then—it's like you're talking to me and someone else at the same time."

  "Yes," I said. "That's it exactly."

  "Maybe I'm going insane?"

  "No."

  "Anton… this wasn't just a chance visit, was it?"

  I didn't answer. Olga whispered something and stopped talking. The gigantic vortex rotated slowly above her head.

  "No, it wasn't," I said. "I came to help."

  If the Dark Magician who had cursed her were watching us… That is, if it weren't just an accidental "mother's curse," but a calculated blow struck by a professional…

  We looked at each other without saying anything.

  I had the feeling I could almost grasp what was really going on here. The answer was there, right beside me, and all our theories were stupid nonsense; we were following the old rules and maps that the boss had asked me to ditch. But to do that, I needed to think. I had to cut myself off for at least a second from what was going on, stare at a blank wall or a mindless TV screen, and stop feeling torn between the desire to help one small human being and tens or hundreds of thousands of people. Stop swinging one way, then the other, trying to resolve this lousy situation, which would still turn out badly whichever way the cards fell, and the only difference it would make to me was that I would die quickly when the blast of the Inferno flung me into the gray expanses of the Twilight world, or slowly and painfully, kindling the dull flame of self-contempt in my own heart…

  "Sveta, I've got to go," I said.

  "Anton!" It wasn't Olga; it was the boss. "Anton …"

  He stopped; he couldn't give me any orders; the situation was an ethical impasse. The girl-vampire was obviously sticking to her demands and refusing to negotiate with anyone except me. If he ordered me to stay, the boss would condemn the young hostage to death… He couldn't order me, he couldn't even ask me.

  "We're organizing your withdrawal…"

  "Better just tell the vampire I'm coming."

  Svetlana reached out and touched my hand:

  "Are you going away forever?"

  "Just until the morning," I said.

  "I don't want you to go," she said simply.

  "I know."

  "Who are you?"

  An express introduction to the mysteries of the universe? The same scene all over again?

  "I'll tell you in the morning. Okay?"

  "You're out of your mind," said the boss's voice.

  "Do you really have to go away?"

  "Don't say that!" Olga shouted. She'd sensed what I was thinking.

  But I said it anyway.

  "Sveta, when they suggested you should mutilate yourself to prolong your mother's life, and you refused… You did what was right, what was rational, didn't you? But now you're suffering. And the pain's so bad, it would have been better to act irrationally."

  "If you don't go now, will you suffer?"

  "Yes."

  "Then go. Only come back, Anton."

  I got up from the table, leaving my cold tea. The Inferno vortex swayed above us.

  "I will, for sure," I said. "And believe me… The situation isn't hopeless."

  Neither of us said another word. I went out of the apartment and began walking down the stairs. Svetlana closed the door behind me. That silence… That deathly silence; even the dogs had howled themselves out that night.

  "Irrational," I thought, "I'm being irrational. If there's no ethically correct solution, act irrationally. Did someone tell me that? Have I just remembered a line from my old course notes, a phrase from a lecture? Or am I looking for excuses?"

  "The vortex …" Olga whispered. Her voice was almost unrecognizable, husky. I wanted to press her head against my shoulder.

  I pushed the entrance door open and slipped out onto the icy sidewalk. The white owl circled above my head like a bundle of fluff.

  The Inferno vortex had shrunk; it was shorter. Not a lot, relative to its overall height, but enough so that I could see it, maybe one and a half or two meters.

  "Did you know that would happen?" asked the boss.

  I looked up at the vortex and shook my head. Just what was going on here? Why had the Inferno reacted by growing larger and stronger when Ignat showed up? Putting people into a mellow state of mind was his specialty. Why had my aimless conversation and unexpected departure made the vortex shrink?

  "It's time I fired that group of analysts," said the boss. I realized he'd said it to everyone, not just me. "When will we have a working hypothesis for what's going on?"

  A car suddenly appeared from the direction of Zelyony Avenue

  , catching me in the glare of its headlights. Its tires squealed as it bounced clumsily over the bumps of broken asphalt and stopped beside the entrance. The hot-orange, low-slung, sporty cabriolet looked absurd, surrounded by the prefabricated, multistory blocks of a city where the best way of getting around was still a jeep.

  Semyon stuck his head out on the driver's side and nodded:

  "Get in. I've been told to drive you like the wind."

  I looked around at Olga and she sensed my glance.
>
  "I've got a job to do here. Go."

  I walked around the car and got into the front. Ilya was sprawled in the back—the boss must have decided the Tiger Cub-Bear double act needed reinforcements.

  "Anton," said Olga's voice, pursuing me through the Twilight. "Remember… you made a deal today. Don't forget that, not for a single moment…"

  I didn't understand at first what she was talking about. The witch from the Day Watch? What did she have to do with anything?

  The car jerked, scraping across the hummocks of ice. Semyon swore with relish as he twisted the wheel, and the car began crawling toward the avenue with an indignant roar.

  "What half-wit did you get the wheels from?" I asked. "Driving around in this weather…"

  Ilya chuckled.

  "Shshsh! Boris Ignatievich has lent you his very own car."

  "Are you serious?" I asked, turning to face him. The boss was always delivered to work in his company BMW. I'd never realized he had a yen for impractical luxury…

  "It's the truth. Antoshka, how did you manage that?" Ilya nodded in the direction of the vortex hanging above the houses. "I never realized you had powers like that!"

  "I never touched it. Just talked to the girl."

  "Talked? You mean you didn't actually fuck her?"

  That was Ilya's usual way of talking when he was feeling tense about something. And he had plenty of reasons for feeling tense just then. But it still made me wince. I thought what he said sounded strained… or maybe he just hit a raw nerve.

  "No. Ilya, don't talk that way."

  "Sorry," he said flippantly. "So what did you do?"

  "I just talked."

  The car finally hurtled out onto the avenue.

  "Hold tight," said Semyon curtly. I was pressed back in my seat. Ilya lolled about behind me, taking out a cigarette and lighting up.

  Twenty seconds later I realized that my last drive had been a walk in the park.

  "Semyon, has the probability of an accident been deleted?" I shouted. The car hurtled through the night, as if it were trying to overtake the beams of its own headlights.

  "I've been driving for severity years," Semyon said contemptuously. "I drove trucks on the Road of Life during the Siege of Leningrad!"

  There was no reason to doubt what he said, but the thought crossed my mind that those journeys had been less dangerous. He hadn't been moving this fast, and guessing where a bomb's going to fall is no great trick for an Other. There weren't many cars around just then, but there were some; the road was terrible, to put it mildly; and our sports car was never meant for conditions like this…

  "Ilya, what happened over there," I asked, trying to tear my eyes away from a truck dodging out of our path. "Have you been posted on that?"

  "You mean with the vampire and the kid?"

  "Yes."

  "We did something stupid, that's what happened," said Ilya, and then he swore. "Maybe not really all that stupid… We'd done everything right. Tiger Cub and Bear introduced themselves to the kid's parents as their favorite distant relatives."

  "We're from the Urals?" I asked, thinking of our course on social contacts and different ways of getting to know people.

  "Yes. Everything was going fine. The table was set, the drink was flowing, they were gorging on Urals delicacies… from the nearest supermarket…"

  I remembered Bear's heavy bag.

  "They were really having a great time." That note in Ilya's voice didn't sound like envy, more like enthusiastic approval of his colleagues. "Everything was just hunky-dory. The kid sat with them some of the time; some of the time he was in his room… How could they know he was already able to enter the Twilight?"

  I felt a cold shudder.

  Well, how could they have known?

  I hadn't told them. And I hadn't told the boss. Or anyone. I'd been satisfied with pulling the kid out of the Twilight and sacrificing a little drop of my own blood. A hero. The solitary warrior in the field.

  Ilya went on, not suspecting a thing.

  "The vampire hooked him with the Call. Very neatly too; the guys didn't feel a thing. And firmly… the kid never even peeped. He entered the Twilight and climbed up onto the roof."

  "How?"

  "Over the balconies. He only had to climb up three floors. The vampire was already waiting for him. And she knew the boy was under guard—the moment she grabbed him, she revealed herself. Now the parents are sound asleep and the vampire's standing there with her arms around the kid, while Tiger Cub and Bear are going out of their minds."

  I didn't say anything. I didn't have anything to say.

  "Our stupid mistake," Ilya concluded. "And a combination of unforeseen circumstances with fatal consequences. Nobody had even initiated the kid… How could anyone know he could enter the Twilight?"

  "I knew."

  Maybe it was my memories that did it, or maybe I was just frightened by our terrible speed as the car raced along the highway, but I looked into the Twilight.

  People are so lucky that they can't see this—ever! And so unlucky that they will never be able to see it!

  A high, gray sky, where there have never been any stars, a sky as glutinous as milk jelly, glowing with a ghastly, wan light. The outlines of everything have softened and dissolved—the buildings, covered with a carpet of blue moss, and the trees, with branches that sway regardless of which way the wind's blowing, and the streetlamps, with the twilight birds circling above them, barely moving their short wings. The cars coming toward you move really slowly, the people walking along the street are hardly even moving their feet. Everything seen through a gray light filter, everything heard through plugs of cotton wool in your ears. A silent, black and white movie, an eerie, elegant director's cut. The world from which we draw our strength. The world that drinks our life. The Twilight. Whoever you really are when you enter it, that's who you are when you come out. The gray gloom will dissolve the shell that has been growing over you all your life, extract the tiny core that people call the soul and test its quality.

  And that's when you'll feel yourself crunching in the jaws of the Twilight; you'll feel the chilly, piercing wind, as corrosive as snake venom… and you'll become one of the Others.

  And choose which side to take.

  "Is the boy still in the Twilight?" I asked.

  "They're all in the Twilight…" said Ilya, diving in there after me. "Anton, why didn't you tell them?"

  "It never occurred to me. I didn't think it was that important. I'm not a field operative, Ilya."

  He shook his head.

  We find it impossible, or almost impossible, to reproach each other, especially when someone's really messed up. There's no need; our punishment is always there, all around us. The Twilight gives us more strength than human beings can ever have; it gives us a life that is almost immortal in human terms. And it also takes it all away when the time comes.

  In one sense we all live on borrowed time. Not just the vampires and werewolves who have to kill in order to prolong their strange existence. The Dark Ones can't afford to do good. And we can't afford the opposite.

  "If I don't pull this off…" I didn't finish. Everything was already clear anyway.

  Chapter 8

  Seen through the Twilight it actually looked beautiful. Up on the roof, the flat roof of that absurd "house on stilts," I could see different-colored patches of light. The only things that have any color in there are our emotions. And there were plenty of those around.

  The brightest of all was the column of crimson flame that pierced the sky—the vampire's fear and fury.

  "She's powerful," Semyon said simply, glancing up at the roof and kicking the car door shut. He sighed and started taking off his coat.

  "What are you doing?" I asked.

  "I'll go up the wall… over the balconies. I advise you to do the same, Ilya. Only you go in the Twilight; it's easier."

  "And how are you going?"

  "The ordinary way. There's less chance she'll notice.
And don't you two worry… I was climbing mountains for sixty years. I took the fascist flag down from Mount Elbrus."

  Semyon stripped to his shirt, throwing his clothes onto the hood of the car. They were followed by a swift protective spell covering his threads and the fancy wheels.

  "Are you sure?" I inquired.

  Semyon laughed, jiggled about, did a few squats, and swung his arms around like an athlete warming up. Then he trotted across to the building, with the fine snow settling on his shoulders.

  "Will he make it?" I asked Ilya. I knew how to climb the wall of a building in the Twilight. In theory. But an ascent in the ordinary world, and with no equipment…

  "He ought to," said Ilya, but he didn't really sound convinced. "When he swam through the underground channel of the river Yauza… I didn't think he'd make it then, either."

  "Thirty years practicing underwater swimming," I said gloomily.

  "Forty… I'll get going then, Anton. How are you going up, in the elevator?"

  "Yup."

  "Okay… don't keep us waiting."

  He shifted into the Twilight and ran after Semyon. They were probably going to climb different walls, but I didn't really want to know who was going which way. My route was waiting for me, and it wasn't likely to prove any easier.

  "Why did you ever have to meet me, boss…" I whispered as I ran up to the entrance. The snow crunched under my feet; the blood pounded in my ears. I took my pistol out of its holster on the run and took the safety catch off. Eight explosive silver bullets. That ought to be enough, as long as I hit the target. I just had to spot the moment when I had a chance to take the vampire by surprise and not wing the boy.

  "Sooner or later someone would have met you, Anton. If not us, then the Day Watch. And they had just as good a chance of taking you."

  I wasn't surprised he was keeping tabs on me. First, this was a serious business. And second, after all, he was my first mentor.