The Nightwatch

by Sergei Lukyanenko

  "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.
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  "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!"

  "What for?"

  "To stay alive."

  "What for?"

  My fingers wouldn't bend. My pistol felt heavy, cast out of ice. I might last another minute, or two…

  I looked into Egor's eyes.

  "Everyone decides for himself. I'm leaving. I've got something to live for."

  "Why do you want to save me?" he asked curiously. "Does your Night Watch need me?"

  "I don't think you'll join our Watch," I said, surprising even myself.

  He smiled. A shadow slowly ran through us—Semyon. Had he spotted something? Was someone in trouble?

  And there I was, wasting my final strength trying to prevent a little Other from committing esoteric suicide—when he was doomed anyway.

  "I'm leaving," I said. "Goodbye."

  My shadow clutched hold of me, freezing to my fingers and growing onto my face. I began tearing myself out of it in jerks, and the Twilight hissed in displeasure at such behavior.

  "Help me," said Egor. I only just caught the sound of his voice; I was almost out already. He'd left it until the very last moment.

  I reached out and grabbed his hand. I was already being torn out, the mist around me was melting. All my help was purely symbolic; the boy had to do the real work for himself.

  And he did.

  We tumbled out into the upper layer of the Twilight. The cold wind struck me in the face, but this time it felt good. The listless movements on every side were transformed into a furious struggle. The blurred tone of gray looked bright and colorful.

  Something had changed during those few seconds we'd spent talking. The vampire was still twitching under Bear… that wasn't it. The young warlock was lying on the roof, either dead or unconscious; Tiger Cub and the witch were rolling about nearby… that wasn't it.

  The snake!

  The white cobra was expanding, inflating to fill a quarter of the roof. As if it had been pumped full of air and it was rising, or flying up of its own accord into the low sky. Semyon was standing by the twined coils of the fiery body, half-squatting in one of the ancient combat stances, with small orange spheres streaking from his palms into the clump of white flame. He wasn't aiming at the cobra, but at someone else underneath it, someone who should have been dead a long time ago but was still struggling…

  There was a sudden explosion!

  A vortex of Light and scraps of Darkness. I was tossed onto my back and as I fell I hit Egor and knocked him down, but just managed to grab hold of his hand. Tiger Cub and the witch, locked together, shot across to the edge of the roof and froze against the barrier. Bear was torn off the vampire, who was badly mauled but still alive. Semyon staggered but stayed on his feet, protected by a dimly glowing defensive shield. The only thing blown off the roof was the unconscious warlock: On his way he broke through the rusty bars of the barrier and plunged downward in a helpless bundle.

  But Ilya just continued standing where he had been, rooted to the spot. I couldn't see any defenses around him, but he just gazed curiously at what was going on, clutching his wand.

  The remains of the fiery cobra soared upward, spreading out into glowing clouds, melting away, scattering in showers of sparks and fine rays of light. Beneath this fireworks display Zabulon slowly rose to his feet, extending his arms in some complex magical pass. He'd lost his clothes in the struggle and now he was completely naked. His body had changed, assuming the classical features of a demon: dull scales instead of skin, an irregular skull, covered with some kind of matted fur instead of hair, close-set eyes with vertical slits for pupils, a massive, dangling male member, and a short forked tail hanging from the base of his spine.

  "Begone!" cried Zabulon. "Begone!"

  The things that must have been going on at that moment in the human world… Outbursts of deadly depression and blind, irrational joy, heart attacks, ludicrous behavior, quarrels between best friends, betrayal by faithful lovers… People couldn't see what was happening, but it touched their souls.

  But why?

  Why did the Day Watch want all this?

  And at that moment I suddenly felt calm, a state of icy, rational composure I'd almost forgotten.

  It was all one complex maneuver. If we started from one simple idea, made one initial assumption—that everything was happening according to Day Watch's plan—and then connected up all the chance events, starting with my hunt in the metro—no, starting with the moment when the young vampire had been allocated a girl to feed on, a girl he couldn't help falling in love with.

  My thoughts were moving as fast as if I were acting as a brainstorm conductor, connected up to other people's minds, the way our analysts sometimes worked. No, of course, that wasn't really happening; it was just that the pieces of the jigsaw had started moving around on the table in front of me, coming together.

  Day Watch didn't give a damn about the girl-vampire…

  Day Watch wouldn't risk open conflict for the sake of a kid with potentially great powers. Day Watch had only one reason for doing all this.

  A Dark Magician with monstrous reserves of power.

  A Dark Magician who could reinforce their position, not only in Moscow, but right across the continent…

  But they'd already achieved that goal; we'd promised to hand over the Dark Magician…

  The unidentified magician was the only unknown in the equation, the X. We could designate Egor as Y: His resistance to magic was far too high for any novice Other. But on the other hand, the boy was an already known quantity, with just one indeterminate factor…

  And that had been deliberately introduced into the problem, to make it more complicated.

  "Zabulon!" I shouted. Behind my back Egor was scrabbling and sliding on the ice as he tried to stand up. Semyon was backing away from the magician, still maintaining his defenses. Ilya was observing everything dispassionately. Bear was closing in on the twitching girl-vampire as she tried to stand up. Tiger Cub and the witch Alisa were moving toward each other again. "Zabulon!"

  The demon looked at me.

  "I know who you're fighting for!"

  No, I didn't know yet. I was just beginning to understand, because the pieces of the jigsaw had come together and shown me a familiar face…

  The demon opened its jaws—they shifted to the left and the right, like a beetle's. He was looking more and more like some giant insect; his scales had grown together into a single carapace; his genitals and tail had retracted; new limbs had begun to sprout from his sides.

  "Then you're dead."

  His voice was the same as before; in fact, it sounded even more thoughtful and intelligent. Zabulon stretched his arm out toward me—it extended in jerks, growing new joints as it came.

  "Come to me…" whispered Zabulon.

  Everybody froze—apart from me. I started walking toward the Dark Magician. There was a trace left of the mental defenses I'd nurtured for years and years. There was just no way I could not obey Zabulon.

  "Stop," roared Tiger Cub, turning away from the battered but still snarling witch. "Stop!"

  I really wished I could do as she said, but I just couldn't.

  "Anton…" I heard someone say behind me. "Look back…"

  That was something I could do. I turned my head, tearing my eyes away from the gaze of those amber eyes with the narrow, vertical slit pupils.

  Egor was still squatting down; he didn't have the strength to get up. It was amazing that he was even conscious at all… after
all, the external input into his energy reserves had been shut off. The external input that had attracted the boss's attention, that had been maintained from the very beginning. Factor Y. Introduced to complicate the situation.

  The small ivory medallion on a copper chain dangled from Egor's hand.

  "Catch!" the kid shouted.

  "Don't take it!" Zabulon ordered me. But he was too late; I'd already bent down and grabbed the amulet as it came flying toward my feet. The carved medallion burned my hand when I touched it, as if I'd picked up a live coal.

  I looked at the demon and shook my head:

  "Zabulon, you no longer have power over me."

  The demon howled and came straight at me. His power over me was gone, but he still had plenty of strength.

  "Tut-tut!" said Ilya.

  A wall of white flame cut across the space between us. Zabulon howled as he hit the magical barrier and the sheet of pure white light flung him back. He shook his scorched paws, looking ridiculous now, not terrible at all.

  "A complex move," I said. "But elementary really, isn't it?"

  Everything on the roof went quiet. Tiger Cub and the witch Alisa stood side by side, not even trying to attack each other. Semyon looked at me, then at Ilya, and I couldn't tell which of us had surprised him most. The girl-vampire was crying quietly, trying to get up. She was in the worst state of all; she'd used up all her strength in surviving the fight with Bear, and now she was struggling to regenerate. With an incredible effort she left the Twilight, becoming a vague silhouette.

  Even the wind seemed to have died away…

  "How can you make a Dark Magician out of someone who is fundamentally pure?" I asked. "How can you win over to the side of Darkness a person who doesn't know how to hate? You can shower problems on him whichever way he turns… bit by bit, a little at a time, hoping that he'll become embittered… But that doesn't work. This person… this girl… is too pure."

  Ilya gave a quiet laugh of approval.

  "The only thing that she could hate," I said, looking into Zabulon's eyes, now filled with nothing but powerless malice, "is herself. And that's the clever move. Unexpected. Let her mother fall ill. Let the girl devour her very soul, despising her own weakness and refusal to help. Drive her into a corner so tight, there's nothing else she can feel but hate, even if that hate is for herself. Of course, there is a divergence of probabilities. Just a slight chance that a single Night Watch agent who doesn't really know all that much about field work…"