Twilight Watch

by Сергей Лукьяненко

  "You could," Svetlana agreed. "No doubt. Only what would be the point?"

  For a brief moment Arina's eyes were filled with such intense melancholy that I felt my heart ache in my chest.

  "There isn't any point, sorceress. Well then, goodbye. I don't remember kindnesses, but I'm not ashamed to say thank you… so thank you, Great One. It will be hard for you… now."

  "I already know that," Svetlana said in a quiet voice.

  Arina's gaze came to rest on me and she smiled flirtatiously. "And goodbye to you, sorcerer. Don't feel sorry for me, I don't like that. Ah… what a pity you love your wife…"

  She knelt down and held her hand out to Nadiushka.

  Svetlana didn't stop her!

  "Goodbye, little girl," the witch said merrily. "I'm a wicked old aunty, but I wish you well. Whoever it was that sketched out your destiny was no fool… oh, no fool at all… maybe you'll succeed where we failed? Now I have a little present for you…" She glanced at Svetlana.

  Svetlana nodded, to my great surprise.

  Arina took hold of Nadiushka's finger. She muttered, "Shall I wish you Power? You have plenty of Power already. They've given you everything… and plenty of everything… You like flowers, don't you? Then take this gift from me-how to use flowers and herbs. That will come in handy even for a Light Enchantress."

  "Goodbye, Aunty Arina," Nadiushka said in a quiet voice. "Thank you."

  The witch looked at me again. I was dumbfounded, totally confused, I didn't understand a thing. Then she turned to the werewolves.

  "Well then, lead on, gray wolf!" she exclaimed.

  The wolf cubs went dashing after the witch and their mentor. One filthy little beast even stopped beside a bush, lifted his leg and sprayed it defiantly. Nadiushka giggled.

  "Svetlana," I whispered. "They're getting away…"

  "Let them go," she replied. "Let them."

  Then she turned toward me.

  "What's happened?" I asked, looking into her eyes. "What and when?"

  "Let's go home," said Svetlana. "We… we need to have a talk, Anton. A serious talk."

  How I hate those words.

  They never lead to anything good.

  Epilogue

  My mother-in-law clucked and fussed over Nadiushka as she put her to bed. "Ah, you little storyteller, what an imagination…"

  "I did go for a walk with the aunty," my daughter protested sleepily.

  "You did, of course you did…" my mother-in-law agreed happily.

  Svetlana winced painfully. Sooner or later all Others are obliged to manipulate their relatives' memories.

  And there's nothing pleasant about that.

  Of course, we do have a choice. We could reveal the truth- or part of the truth-to our nearest and dearest.

  But that doesn't produce very good results either.

  "Good night, little daughter," said Svetlana.

  "Off you go, go on," my mother-in-law sniffed. "You've worn my little girl out, exhausted her, the poor sweetheart…"

  We left the room and Svetlana closed the door firmly. It was quiet. The only sound was the pendulum clock creaking on the wall.

  "All that namby-pamby talk," I said. "You can't treat a child like that…"

  "A girl you can," Svetlana said, dismissing my opinion. "And especially if she's only three. Anton… let's go into the garden."

  "The garden, all right, the garden it is," I agreed cheerfully. "Let's go."

  We both walked over to the hammock and sat down beside each other. I could feel Svetlana trying to pull away, hard as that is to do in a hammock.

  "Start from the very beginning," I advised her.

  "From the beginning…" Svetlana sighed. "From the beginning… that's not possible. Everything's too tangled up."

  "Then explain why you let the witch go."

  "She knows too much, Anton. And if there's a trial… if it all comes out…"

  "But she's a criminal!"

  "Arina didn't do anything bad to us," Svetlana said in a quiet voice, as if she were trying to convince herself. "I don't think she's bloodthirsty at all. Most witches are genuinely malevolent, but there are some like that…"

  "I give up!" I said, raising my hands in the air. "She kept the werewolves in line, and she didn't hurt Nadya. A genuine Arina Rodionovna, she really is. And what about the disruption of the experiment?"

  "She explained that."

  "What did she explain? That almost a hundred years of Russian history was flushed down the tubes? That instead of a normal society, a bureaucratic dictatorship was built… with all the consequences that flow from that?"

  "You heard what she said-that would have meant people finding out about us."

  I gave a deep sigh and tried to collect my thoughts.

  "Sveta… think what you're saying. Five years ago you were a human being yourself. We still are human… only we're more advanced. Like a new twist in the spiral of evolution. If people had found out, it wouldn't have mattered!"

  "We're not more advanced," Svetlana said with a shake of her head. "Anton, when you called me… I guessed that the witch would be watching the Twilight, so I jumped straight to the fifth level. Apart from Gesar and Olga, I don't think any of our Light Ones have ever been there…"

  She stopped. And I realized this was what Svetlana wanted to talk about. Something that was truly terrible.

  "What's down there, Sveta?" I whispered.

  "I was there for quite a long time," Svetlana went on. "And anyway… I realized a few things. Just how doesn't matter right now."

  "And?"

  "Everything it says in the witch's book is right, Anton. We're not genuine magicians. We don't have greater abilities than ordinary people. We're exactly like the blue moss at the first level of the Twilight. Remember that example from the book about body temperature and the temperature of the surroundings? Well then, all people have a magical temperature of 97.7°F. Some who are very lucky, or unlucky, have a fever-their temperature is higher. And all that energy, all that Power, warms the world. Our body temperature is below the norm. We absorb Power that isn't ours and we can redistribute it. We're parasites. A weak Other like Igor has a temperature of ninety-three. Yours is, say, sixty-eight. Mine is fifty."

  I had my answer ready. I'd already thought about this, just as soon as I finished reading the book.

  "But so what, Sveta? What of it? People can't use their Power. We can. So what's the point?"

  "The point is that people will never come to terms with that. Even the best and the kindest always look enviously at those who have been given more. At the sportsmen, the handsome men and beautiful women, the geniuses and the ones with talent. But they can't complain about it… it's fate, chance. But now imagine that you're an ordinary human being. Perfectly ordinary. And suddenly you discover that some people live for hundreds of years, can predict the future, heal diseases, and put a hex on you. Quite seriously, all for real. And all at your expense. We're parasites, Anton. Exactly like the vampires. Exactly like the blue moss. If that gets out, if they invent some new instrument that can distinguish Others from normal people, they'll start hunting us and exterminating us. And if we band together and create our own state, they'll drop atom bombs on us."

  "Divide and protect…" I whispered, citing the Night Watch's main catchword.

  "That's right. Divide and protect, not people from Dark Ones, but people from Others in general."

  I laughed. I looked up into the night sky and laughed, remembering myself when I was a little younger, walking along a dark street to a rendezvous with vampires. With a passionate heart, clean hands, and a cool, empty head…

  "We've talked so many times about what the difference is between us and the Dark Ones…" Svetlana said in a low voice. "I've found one way of putting it. We're good shepherds. We watch over the flock. And I suppose that means a lot. Only we mustn't deceive ourselves or anyone else. There'll never be a time when all people become Others. We'll never reveal ourselves to them. And we
'll never allow people to build a more or less decent society. Capitalism, communism… that's not the point. The only world that will ever suit us is one in which people are preoccupied with the size of the trough and the quality of hay. Because the moment they lift their heads out of the trough, look around and see us, we'll be finished."

  I looked up into the sky and toyed with Svetlana's hand, lying there on my knees. Just a hand, warm and limp… and only a short while ago it had been raining down bolts of lightning on the witch who had sabotaged Russia…

  The limp hand of a Great Enchantress, who had only half as much magic in her as I did.

  "And there's nothing to be done," Svetlana whispered. "The Watches won't let the ordinary people out of the cattle-shed. In the States there'll be huge feeding troughs that make you want to dive in over your head. Somewhere over in Uruguay, there'll be sparse grass on the mountain pastures, so people have no time to look up at the sky. The only thing we can do is choose the prettiest cattle-shed and paint it a nice bright color."

  "What if you tell the Others all this?"

  "It won't bother the Dark Ones at all. And the Light Ones will come to terms with it. I learned a truth I didn't want to know, Anton-and I've come to terms with it. Maybe I shouldn't have told you? But that would have been dishonest. As if you were part of the herd too."

  "Sveta…" I looked at the faint reflection of the night-light in the window. "Sveta, then what's Nadiushka's magical temperature?"

  She hesitated before she answered.

  "Zero."

  "The Greatest of all the Great…" I said.

  "Absolutely no magic in her at all…" said Svetlana.

  "So now what do we do?"

  "Carry on living," Svetlana said simply. "I'm an Other… it's too late now to pretend to be innocent. I take Power from people or I draw it from the Twilight-either way, it's not my Power. But I'm not to blame for that."

  "Sveta, I'm going to Gesar. Right now. I'm leaving the Watch."

  "I know. Go."

  I got up and steadied the swaying hammock. It was dark, and I couldn't see Svetlana's face.

  "Go, Anton," she repeated. "It's going to be hard for us to look into each other's eyes. We need time to get used to it."

  "What's down there, on the fifth level?" I asked.

  "It's best if you don't know."

  "All right. I'll ask Gesar."

  "Let him tell you… if he wants to."

  I leaned down and touched her cheek-it was wet with tears.

  "It's disgusting…" she whispered. "Disgusting… to be a parasite."

  "Hang in here…"

  "I am."

  When I went into the barn, I heard a door close-Svetlana had gone back into the house. Without bothering to switch on the light, I got into the car and pulled the door shut.

  Right then, what had Uncle Kolya done with it? Should I start it or shouldn't I?

  The car started the first time and the diesel engine began purring very quietly.

  I switched on the low beams and drove out of the barn.

  What about the rules of concealment?

  To hell with them. Why should the shepherd hide from the flock?

  I opened the gates with a brief wave of my hand, without getting out of the car. I drove out into the street and stepped on the gas right away. The village looked empty and lifeless. Someone had sprinkled sleeping pills in the sheep's feed.

  The car tore out onto the country road. I switched to high beams and put my foot down. The wind rushed in through the open window.

  I felt for the remote control on the steering wheel and switched on the disk player.

  I entered this windy city without a cloak.

  And it wound around my throat just like ivy.

  The serpent's coils fettered my soul.

  I see a black sun, beneath which I shall never shed a tear.

  I am slipping out of character. I am insolent, unfair.

  What can a rabbit hope for in a boa constrictor's throat?

  The serpent's coils only feel tight at first,

  I see a black sun, and dreams the same color,

  I cannot tell sins from virtues, even to save my life.

  They're removing the witnesses, turning us to snakes.

  And I am willing to rot under any flag,

  Prepared to slither, zigzagging across the ground,

  And even sing of love, up to my throat in vomit,

  If that is what my Motherland requires.

  A light appeared up ahead, somewhere near the access road onto the highway. I screwed up my eyes and looked through the Twilight. There was a temporary militia barrier across the road. And two men waiting beside it, with two Others.

  Dark Others.

  I smiled and slowed down.

  My brain is a beehive with ants instead of bees.

  The bullet's center of gravity is displaced toward love.

  But the serpent's coils are armor plating.

  I see a black sun. A sun that hates me.

  I could have surrendered without a fight, caught in the devil's jaws.

  But I'll die on my feet-the coils will not let me fall.

  The serpent's coils-my brace and my shell.

  I see a black sun. And it hurts my eyes.

  I stopped right in front of the barrier and waited for the highway patrolman holding an automatic rifle to his chest. The Inquisition was never too choosy when it came to recruiting people for security cordons.

  I handed the militiaman my license and documents for the car, and turned the sound down.

  I looked at the Others.

  The first was an Inquisitor I didn't know-a lean, elderly Asiatic type. I'd have said he was at the second or third level of Power, but with Inquisitors it's always harder to tell.

  The second was a Dark One I knew very well, from the Moscow Day Watch. The vampire Kostya.

  "We're looking for a witch," said the Inquisitor. The militiamen took no notice of the Others. The militiamen had been ordered not to see.

  "Arina's not here," I replied. "Is Edgar in charge of the dragnet?"

  The Inquisitor nodded.

  "Ask him about me. Anton Gorodetsky, Night Watch."

  "I know him," Kostya said casually, leaning down toward the Inquisitor. "A law-abiding Light One…"

  "Proceed," said the highway patrolman, handing back my documents.

  "You can drive on," the Inquisitor said with a nod. "There'll be more security posts down the road."

  I nodded and drove out onto the highway.

  Kostya stood there, watching me drive away.

  I switched the sound back on.

  I'm not for or against. I'm not good or evil.

  You've been damned lucky with me, my Motherland.

  Your serpent's coils are my home, my trap.

  I shall crawl under the sun.

  Under this cursed sun,

  From here to here, and then from here to here,

  From here to Judgment Day.

  Story Three

  NOBODY'S POKER

  Prologue

  He didn't often dream.

  And right now he wasn't even asleep. But even so, it was almost a dream, almost like one of those sweet visions in the instant before waking…

  A light, pure vision, almost like a child's.

  Scavenging engines… broaching… key to start position.

  The silvery column of the rocket shrouded in light mist.

  The flames dancing under the nozzles.

  Every Russian child dreams of being a cosmonaut-until he hears that question for the tenth time: "What do you want to be, a cosmonaut?"

  Some stop dreaming about outer space when they become Others.

  The Twilight is more interesting than other planets. The newly discovered Power has a stronger gravitational pull than the fame of a cosmonaut.

  But now he was dreaming of a rocket-an absurd, old-fashioned rocket rising up into the sky.

  The earth floating beneath his feet or abov
e his head.

  The thick quartz glass of the porthole.

  Strange dreams for an Other, surely?

  The earth… a veil of clouds… the lights of the cities… people.

  Millions of them. Billions.

  And him-watching them from orbit.

  An Other in space… what could be more ludicrous? Except maybe for Other versus Alien. He had watched a science fiction film once-and suddenly found himself thinking that now was just the right moment for brave Ripley to slip into the Twilight- and then strike out and smash those unwieldy, helpless monsters.

  The thought had immediately made him laugh.

  There weren't any Others up there.

  But space was up there. Only he hadn't realized what it was for until now.

  Now he understood.

  He stood there with his eyes closed, dreaming about the small earth rotating slowly under his feet.

  Every child dreams of being a giant-until he starts to wonder what the point is.

  Now he knew everything.

  The parts of the jigsaw all fit together.

  His own destiny as an Other.

  And his absurd dream about space travel.

  And the thin volume bound in human skin, its pages covered with neat cursive handwriting.

  He picked up the book that was lying there on the floorboards.

  Opened it to the first page.

  The letters had not faded. They were protected by a light but effective magic spell.

  This language had not been heard on earth for a long time. It would have reminded an Indologist of Sanskrit, only not many people would have realized it was Paishachi.

  But Others can read any dead language.

  May the Elephant-faced One preserve you, swaying his head first up, then down, like unto Shiva, swaying up and down on the Mind! May Ganapati fill me with the sweet moisture of wisdom!

  My name is Fuaran, I am a woman of the glorious city of Kanakapuri.

  The Fulfiller of Desires, husband of Parvati, rewarded me generously in the days of my youth, granting me the ability to walk in the world of phantoms. While in our world a petal swirls in the air as it falls from a blossoming tree, in that world a whole day passes-such is its nature. And a great power lies concealed in that world.