So I sneaked out. I stood up and slid into the Twilight. And then I moved deeper, to the second level.
Falling to the ground from the second floor took me about three minutes, even though I hurried it along as much as I could. It was strange-I'd expected the Twilight to drain me completely but, on the contrary, I felt invigorated, as if I'd just taken a shower and downed a shot of vodka. Amazing.
And by the way, that shot sounded like a good idea.
When I surfaced from the Twilight, I set out for the next building, a long glass-and-concrete slab quite unlike the administrative building, which was crowned by a tall spire-a souvenir of the architectural pomposity of the Soviet '50s.
I'd left my jacket in the field headquarters, so I had to sprint for the door. The wind was carrying fine pellets of snow, and I wondered how the plane from Odessa was going to land. Darkness and driving snow-it was a night you wouldn't put a dog out in. And then the Light Ones would be doing their best to spoil things. But if the plane didn't land, where would it go to? Would they redirect it to another Moscow airport? Maybe Bykovo or Domodedovo?
That was an idea. I ought to tell Edgar or Anna Tikhonovna they should send Watch members, just in case…
And then again, they could divert the plane to Kaluga or Tula. If the weather was better there. Which it very well could be-after all, here in Butovo the Light weather magicians were obviously giving it their best shot.
After being outside, the terminal building felt warm and cozy. I went straight up to the second floor, to the bar where Boryansky and I once drank beer while we were waiting for a plane and ate nuts while we listened to a song that had literally dogged our footsteps during that trip: "… the summer has flown by, it's all behind us now…"
It took me a moment to realize that this was a memory-and I hardly had any of them left. What murky depths of my mind had it surfaced from? I couldn't tell.
I tried to think exactly who Boryansky was, but I couldn't even remember his face. And as to where we'd been flying to, and what for… For some reason the only memory that kept on coming back was that then, in those ancient Soviet times, he had a huge bidet in his apartment. Of course, it didn't work… and anyway, what would a Soviet citizen want with a bidet?
But the bar was still exactly the same as I remembered it. A counter, high stools, gleaming beer taps. And a TV in the corner. But the video clip they were showing on it was quite different. A young guy with suspiciously red eyes and a girl in a scarlet dress. He was kissing her hand. And the action after that was like a good thriller-complete with slashing wolf's jaws and all the rest. The moment I really enjoyed was when the young guy, who for some reason was now dressed in the girl's scarlet dress, came into the ballroom and then split apart into several wolves. And I liked the final shot, when the girl's red eyes glinted as she surveyed her guests…
Hmm. Well, the guys who made that didn't know too much about shape-shifting Others. Just as the unfailingly fashionable writer Pelevin didn't know much about real, gluttonous, dirty werewolves. But the clip was well produced, you couldn't deny that. The werewolves must have all chipped in to pay the producer and influenced the musicians-and what they'd ended up with was a beautiful, romantic video about themselves. The Russian vampires had done the same thing only just recently.
I remembered the name of the group-Rammstein-for future reference, so that I'd be able to find the song and listen to it a bit more carefully.
I ordered beer and a couple of hamburgers and then sat at one side near the television, with my back to the room. My stomach already thought my throat had been cut, and I was determined to do something about the situation.
I sensed the Light Ones when I'd just started my second hamburger-literally felt them with my back. And I immediately clammed up-I knew how to do that already, and I knew for certain that they hadn't spotted me.
I was a powerful Other, after all, even if I was inexperienced, and these two were still apprentices at best: a weak magician, about twenty or twenty-two years old, and a novice soothsayer. I figured I could see the future a lot more clearly than the soothsayer-the whole vast gamut of possible variants-and I could predict more precisely which of them was more probable.
The two Light Ones were talking in low voices; both of them were covered by a skillful spell of inattention-a fairly exotic variety, in fact. It had been cast by someone who was very powerful indeed.
I listened.
"… already here. The boss says things could get rough," the magician said quietly.
"They'll stick us in the security cordon anyway," the soothsayer objected wearily. "Especially after Tiger Cub and Andrei."
"Oleg, we'll need all our Power, you understand. All of it. Every last drop. The Dark Ones mustn't get their hands on the Talon- that would be the end of everything. The end of the Light…"
"Ah, come on," the soothsayer objected skeptically. "How can it be the end…"
The magician corrected himself: "Well, the end of our superiority. We won't be able to put the Dark Ones under pressure for the foreseeable future."
"But is it really possible to do that anyway?" There was a note of very healthy, frank skepticism in the soothsayer's words. "The Light Ones and the Dark Ones have existed side by side for thousands of years. They've been fighting for thousands of years. Look at how long the Watches have been competing with each other. And then there's the Inquisition-it doesn't allow any violations of the balance of Power…"
The Light Ones broke off their conversation for a moment, walked to the front of the line of three people at the bar and gently clouded everyone else's minds, including the barman's.
"Twenty hamburgers and a carton of juice," the magician said and then turned back to his companion.
I pretended my mind was clouded too. Others are basically pretty happy-go-lucky. Especially young ones. The feeling of their own superiority over ordinary people is pretty intoxicating, and it takes years before they can understand that sometimes being human is much simpler and better than being an Other.
"Anyway, there's going to be a fight. Anton told me the Dark Ones have got some sorcerer from out of town, and he laid out Farid and Danila with an easy sucker punch. And he killed Tiger Cub. The bastard…"
"She had no business attacking a peaceful Dark One," I thought, feeling annoyed. "I wasn't chasing her, she was the one who was after me…"
But the Light Ones were wrong about the sucker punch. I'd paid a heavy price for that fight.
A moment later I realized that something was happening. As if on command, the Light Ones turned their faces toward the airfield and immediately withdrew into the Twilight. A second later, so did I.
Outside the building, one of the Dark Ones was standing on a snow-covered runway with his wand held out in front of him. A long tongue of flame licked at the frozen concrete. Once, twice. The magician was drying out the runway before the plane from Odessa landed. But there were Light Ones hurrying toward him from the terminal building, sinking into the snowdrifts as they ran.
The magician launched a few more tongues of flame and then shifted deeper into the Twilight.
It looked to me like it was Kolya.
My two Light chatterboxes hastily tipped their food supplies into white-and-green plastic bags and set off at a fast trot, trampling the ever-hungry covering of blue moss. It had an easy life here. All those people, all those emotions… A single passenger who was late for a plane was enough to feed this entire ravenous carpet for a day.
I hopped off my stool too, leaving my unfinished beer on the counter. I could barely make out what was happening through the wall of the terminal building-all I could see were the vague shadows of Others with the colored patches of auras above their heads and viscid bursts of Power being discharged. At the same time, I could still see the inside of the terminal hall and the people sitting in plastic chairs, patiently waiting for their flights.
Low, rumbling sounds threaded themselves through the Twilight-it was a woman's voice ann
ouncing that "flight fifteen zero zero from Odessa has landed." I went hurtling down the stairs, maneuvering between the people who were hardly even moving.
Down. Forward. And now to the right.
I leapt over the turnstile and found myself facing the exit to the airfield.
There was a full-scale battle going on out there-I could literally sense the discharges of energy on my skin. All that Power from the amulets, all that skill from the magicians-and it could all have been used for other purposes, instead of fighting each other. The Light Ones were so rigidly dedicated to their righteous struggle! It hadn't even entered their heads simply to reach an agreement with us-they'd gone rushing straight into the attack.
I could sense that the Dark Ones were having a tough time of it. It looked like the chief of Night Watch, Gesar, had got involved. And there were at least another two very powerful magicians out there now, beside the plane that was taxiing to its stand.
And then four figures burst in through the wall of the terminal. They were all Others, of course. All tall, with broad shoulders, blond hair, and blue eyes. As if they'd been specially picked to match-a standard matching set of twentieth or twenty-first century Vikings. All wearing identical warm winter parkas and carrying identical bags. They weren't wearing hats and their hair looked disheveled, but something told me it wasn't the wind that was responsible for that.
At first I couldn't understand why they had remained in human form. But then I looked at them in the human world and laughed in surprise when I got the idea: An Other's image in the Twilight-his subconscious dream-can take all sorts of forms…
They walked quickly across the hall, almost running, moving past me and toward the exit and the bright patch of light in front of the terminal that was the airport parking lot.
Walking past me.
But just as they drew level with me, a dark-blue flower the size of a heavy Ural construction truck sprang up to the right of them. Everyone in the Twilight was thrown to the ground.
As I lay there on my back, I raised my head and saw a blue veil shimmering in midair, looking like a gigantic Aurelia jellyfish. But I could sense that something was about to happen behind that transparent curtain.
And I was right-a portal opened up in the blue haze, right there in the baggage hall, behind that hazy blue curtain. My eyes were stung by a blinding white glow and it was suddenly abnormally light in the Twilight, even though there were still no shadows. That was a really weird sight: unbearably bright light and not a hint of a shadow.
There were two Light Ones. The Night Watch chief and an attractive young woman. An enchantress of very impressive Power.
"You are in my power," Gesar declared loudly, making a short, economical pass with his hands. "Stand up!"
He was talking to the Vikings. The Light Ones hadn't noticed me lying there closer to the portal than anyone else.
One of the Vikings said something angry and abrupt in English. Gesar replied. I regretted gloomily that I didn't understand a single word. Then the Vikings stood up and began obediently walking toward the portal. I was preparing to stand up and had even got on all fours already, but when the third Viking drew level with me, the fourth abruptly withdrew deeper into the Twilight.
Gesar reacted instantly-he cast a Net over the others and disappeared. The enchantress stayed where she was.
The remaining Vikings were pinned to the ground and so was I-from being on all fours I was flattened back against the floor, this time face down, like a squashed frog on a major highway. It felt as if a slab of concrete had dropped on top of me from a passing dump truck-I couldn't catch my breath or move a muscle. And damned if there wasn't some object jabbing unbearably into my chest, some long, slightly curved object.
Lying with my nose pressed to the floor was not at all pleasant; I made an effort and turned my head.
My eyes met the eyes of the Viking lying beside me. I felt a frost more chilly than any Moscow winter. "You!"
"You're an Other!"
"Yes…"
"You serve the Darkness…"
"Probably…"
"Take care of it!"
"What?"
But the Viking had already closed his eyes. The silent dialogue had only lasted a few brief moments.
Take care of what? This damn thing that was poking me in the ribs?
Just to be sure of things, the enchantress dropped another concrete slab on us-the Vikings began wheezing painfully and something like a groan was torn from my chest.
And then I thought: Ah, what the hell!
I closed my eyes and focused on searching for Power… and I sensed an almost inexhaustible source right there-the portal that was still open.
Well, well, how simple everything was, really! It would take no more than a few seconds to restore the Power I'd expended on Strastnoi Boulevard. And the fact that it was a Light portal didn't bother me in the least-the nature of Power is similar in any case.
I began drawing in the Power of the portal. Taking it slow, so that the Light Enchantress wouldn't immediately realize what was going on.
The first thing I tried was to shift the weight off myself slightly-I managed that okay, and I can't say it was really too difficult. Then I enveloped the thing underneath me in a cocoon and stuck it inside my sweater, still fumbling about on the floor. I thought the enchantress was beginning to feel uneasy.
I was all set to stand up, but then Gesar came back; he was radiating white light, just like a peasant's idea of an angel. With one hand he was clutching the shoulder of the Viking who had fled. One step, then another, and he dropped the limp, submissive fugitive beside his comrades, like a rag doll. But what I saw on Gesar's face was not joy, but something else.
"Where's the Talon?"
He glanced briefly at the enchantress, who pulled her head back into her shoulders in alarm-I sensed her scanning all of us at once.
Oh no, my girl! You won't break into my cocoon.
And Gesar won't break into it either. I can tell you that for sure, from the height of the next step up the stairway.
But Gesar wasn't wasting any time. He came straight up to me.
"You again…"
I didn't catch any hint of hate in his voice. Only infinite weariness.
I stood up and dusted my clothes off for some reason.
"Me."
"You amaze me," Gesar confessed, drilling right through me with his glance. "Amaze me one more time. Give back the Talon."
"The Talon?" I asked, raising my eyebrows expressively. "What are you talking about, colleague?"
Gesar gritted his teeth-I distinctly saw the muscles at his temples twitch.
"Cut the comedy, Dark One. You've got the Talon, there's nowhere else it can be. I've stopped sensing it, but that doesn't change matters. Now you're going to give me the Talon and clear out of Moscow forever. That's the second time I've told you-and let me tell you it's the first time I've ever given anybody a second chance to leave in peace. The first time in very, very many years. Am I making myself clear?"
"Nothing could be clearer," I growled, weighing up my own strength and deciding that it was worth going for it.
I mentally reached out toward the enchantress, who wasn't prepared for anything bad to happen, and drew as much Power as I could from her before she realized what was happening. Then I added some from the portal, and all as quickly as possible.
I opened my own portal directly under my own feet, and at the same time I emerged from the Twilight.
The effect would basically have been the same if I'd been standing on the manhole of a sewer and the cover had suddenly disappeared. I just fell through the floor, as far as Gesar and all the others could see. Fell straight through the floor and disappeared.
I hadn't dared try drawing Power from Gesar-something had told me it wasn't worth tangling with him yet.
You can create a cocoon that Gesar couldn't see into without special preparation, you can steal energy from an enchantress who's very probably going to be
a great enchantress-that's all pure childish mischief and it will only work once. But it's a bit too soon for you, Vitaly Rogoza, Dark Other, to get involved in an open fight with the chief of the Night Watch.
Just say "thank you" that got you away in one piece.
I said "thank you" and fell straight into a snowdrift from a height of several meters. It was dark all around. Or almost dark. Just the moon overhead. With a forest stretching out on both sides.
I was in a clearing in the forest, a clearing as straight as Lenin Prospect in Nikolaev and very wide, about fifteen meters across. There was a blank wall of forest on my right and a blank wall of forest on my left, and straight ahead, hanging above the silvery strip of untouched snow, there was the moon. Almost full.
It was beautiful, incredibly beautiful-the moonlit clearing, the night, the snow… I could have just laid there and admired it.
But I started feeling cold.
I scrambled out of the snowdrift with a struggle and looked around. The snow still looked untouched. But somewhere in the distance I could hear the distinctive hammering rhythm of the wheels of a commuter train.
Hmm. Some great magician I was. Lord of the Dark portals.
I'd opened a portal all right, but I hadn't bothered about where it would end. And this was the result: Here I was all alone in the winter forest in nothing but my sweater-no jacket or hat.
Furious with myself, I felt the long, hard object under my sweater, decided not to remove the cocoon yet, and set off toward the moon, across the miraculous virgin snow of the moonlit forest clearing.
I soon realized that walking through snowdrifts was a very dubious pleasure, so I veered toward the forest, having sensibly decided that there ought to be less snow near the trees.
To my own amazement, I was proved right twice over. First, there were indeed no snow drifts at the edge of the forest, and second, I found a narrow path, pretty well trodden. I simply hadn't noticed it before in the shadow.
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