Nightwatch w-1

by Sergei Lukyanenko

  I knew the girl. It was Alisa Donnikova, the witch from Day Watch. Her eyes opened wide when she spotted the boss.

  She was followed by two barely perceptible silhouettes moving through the Twilight.

  «Would you wait a moment, please?» Alisa said in a hoarse voice, as if her throat had suddenly gone dry.

  «Begone.» The boss made a swift gesture with one hand, and the Dark Ones were forced aside, toward the walls. Alisa leaned over hard, trying to resist the elastic wall of force, but her powers weren’t up to it.

  «Zabulon, I summon you!» she squealed.

  Oho! The witch must be a real favorite of the Day Watch boss if she had the right to summon him!

  The other two Dark Ones emerged from the Twilight. I identified them at a glance as warrior magicians of the third or fourth grade. Of course, they were absolutely no match for Boris Ignatievich, and I could give the boss a hand, but they could drag things out.

  The boss realized that too.

  «What do you want?» he asked menacingly. «This is the time of the Night Watch.»

  «A crime has been committed,» said Alisa, her eyes blazing. «Here, not long ago. One of our brothers has been killed, killed by one of…« She stared hard at the boss, then at me.

  «One of… ?» The boss asked hopefully. The witch didn’t take the bait. If she’d been foolish enough to hurl an accusation like that at the boss, with her status and at the wrong time, he would have splattered her across the wall.

  And he wouldn’t have paused for a moment to wonder if such a step was reasonable or not.

  «One of the Light Ones!»

  «The Night Watch has no idea who the criminal is.»

  «We officially request assistance.»

  So. Now we had nowhere left to retreat. A refusal to render assistance to the other Watch was as good as a declaration of war.

  «Zabulon, I call on you!» the witch cried out again. I was beginning to hope that maybe the leader of the Dark Ones couldn’t hear her or was tied up with something important .

  «We are willing to collaborate,» said the boss. His voice was like ice.

  I glanced back into the dining area, over the shoulders of the magicians—the Dark Ones had already surrounded us, clearly intending to keep us by the door, and what was happening in the restaurant was just incredible.

  People were gorging themselves.

  They were chomping so loudly it sounded as if there were pigs at every table. Their eyes were dull and glazed, their fingers clutched knives and forks, but they were raking up the food with their hands, choking on it, snorting, and spitting it out. A respectable-looking middle-aged man who’d been dining sedately in the company of three bodyguards and a young woman was gulping down wine straight from the mouth of the bottle. A pleasant-looking young man—a yuppie type—and his pretty girlfriend were fighting over a plate, spilling the thick, orange sauce over themselves. The waiters were rushing from table to table, flinging plates, cups, bottles, braziers, and dishes at the diners…

  The Dark Ones have their own methods for distracting outsiders.

  «Were any of you present in the restaurant when the murder was committed?» the witch asked triumphantly. The boss paused before he answered.

  «Yes.»

  «Who?»

  «My companions.»

  «Olga, Svetlana,» said the witch, devouring us with her eyes. «Was there not also present another Night Watch agent whose human name is Anton Gorodetsky?»

  «Apart from us, there were no members of Night Watch present!» Svetlana said quickly. A good answer, but too quick. Alisa frowned, realizing her question had been too vague.

  «A quiet night, isn’t it?» said a voice from the doorway.

  Zabulon had answered the summons.

  I looked at him in despair, realizing that a supreme magician would not be taken in by my disguise. He might not have recognized Ilya as the boss, but the old fox wouldn’t be caught out by the same trick twice.

  «Not so very quiet, Zabulon,» the boss said simply. «Call off your minions, or I’ll have to do it for you.»

  The Dark Magician still looked exactly the same, as if time had stopped, as if the icy winter hadn’t finally given way to a warm spring. A dark suit, a tie, a gray shirt, old-fashioned, narrow shoes. Sunken cheeks, dull eyes, hair cut short.

  «I knew I’d find you here,» said Zabulon.

  He was looking at me. And only at me.

  «How stupid,» he said, shaking his head. «What do you need all this for, eh?»

  He took a step forward and Alisa darted out of his way.

  «A good job, prosperity, self-esteem, all the joys of the world—all in your grasp, all you have to do is decide what you’ll have this time. But you’re so stubborn. I don’t understand you, Anton.»

  «And I don’t understand you, Zabulon,» said the boss, blocking his way.

  The Dark Magician reluctantly turned his gaze to him.

  «Then you must be getting old. The person in your lover’s body is Anton Gorodetsky, the same person we suspect of the serial killings of Dark Ones. Just how long has he been hiding in there, Boris? Didn’t you notice the substitution?»

  He giggled again.

  I looked around at the Dark Ones. They still hadn’t understood. They needed another second, or half a second.

  Then I saw Svetlana raise her hand, with a yellow magical flame flickering on the palm.

  So now she’d passed the fifth-level test—but this was still a battle we could only lose. There were three of us and six of them. If Svetlana struck—not to save herself, but to get me out of this fix—there’d be a bloodbath.

  I jumped forward.

  It was a good thing Olga’s body was well-trained and in such good shape. It was a good thing that all of us—Light Ones and Dark Ones—weren’t really used to relying on the strength of our arms and legs, on simple, crude violence. And the best thing of all was that Olga, who had been deprived of most of her magic, hadn’t neglected the skills of physical combat.

  Zabulon doubled up with a hoarse gasp when my fist—or rather, Olga’s fist—sank into his stomach. I swept his legs from under him with a single kick and dashed outside.

  «Stop!» howled Alisa in a voice filled with admiration, hate, and love all at once.

  The hunt was on.

  I ran down Pokrovka Street in the direction of Zemlyanoi Val Street, with my purse bouncing hard against my back. It was a good thing I wasn’t wearing high heels. I had to get away, disappear. I’d really enjoyed the urban survival course, but it was so short, really short—who could have imagined a Night Watch agent would end up running and hiding, instead of chasing and catching?

  I heard a screeching wail behind me.

  I leapt aside in a pure reflex response, before I could even understand what was happening. A streak of crimson flame came hurtling down the street, coiling and twisting as it passed me, then it tried to stop and turn back, but its inertia was too great: the charge crashed into the wall of a building, momentarily turning the stones white-hot.

  But that was… !

  I tripped and fell, glancing back. Zabulon was recharging his battle staff, but he was moving very slowly, as if there were something hindering him, slowing him down.

  He was shooting to kill!

  There wouldn’t have been even a handful of dust left of me

  There wouldn’t have been even a handful of dust left of me if I’d been caught by Shahab’s Lash!

  So the boss was wrong after all. The Day Watch didn’t want what was inside my head. They wanted to eliminate me completely.

  The Dark Ones were running after me. Zabulon was aiming his weapon. The boss was restraining Svetlana as she struggled to break out of his grasp. I jumped up and started running again, already knowing there was no way I could escape. At least there was nobody around: Instinctive, subconscious fear had swept everybody off the street the moment our confrontation began. Nobody else would get hurt.

  I heard a squeal
of brakes and looked around just in time to see the Day Watch agents jump out of the way of a car careering wildly along the street. The driver stopped for a moment, evidently thinking he’d driven into the middle of a gangland Shootout, then picked up speed again.

  Should I stop him? No, it wasn’t allowed.

  I jumped up onto the sidewalk and squatted down, hiding from Zabulon behind an old Volga, letting the stray driver past. The silver Toyota hurtled past me and then screeched to a halt with a smell of burning brakes.

  The door on the driver’s side opened and a hand beckoned me.

  Things like this just didn’t happen!

  Heroes only got rescued by passing cars in cheap action movies.

  At least that’s what I was thinking as I opened the back door and threw myself inside.

  «Get us out of here!» shouted the woman I found myself next to. But the driver didn’t need any encouragement; we were already moving. There was a flash behind us, and the driver swerved out of the path of a streak of fire. The woman began wailing.

  How did they see what was happening? As automatic gunfire? Salvoes of rockets? A blast from a flame-thrower?

  «Why did you come back, why?» the woman asked, trying to lean forward to hit the driver in the back. I was all set to grab her arm, but before I could, the car jerked forward and tossed the woman back against the seat.

  «Don’t,» I said gently.

  She glared at me indignantly. She had every right. What woman would be pleased to see her husband stop and risk his life for an attractive, dishevelled female stranger and take her into his car when it’s being chased by a gang of thugs?

  At least the immediate danger was past now. We came out onto Zemlyanoi Val Street and drove on in a solid stream of traffic. My friends and my enemies were both left a long way behind.

  «Thanks,» I said to the short hair on the back of the driver’s head.

  «Did you get hit?» he asked without even turning around.

  «No, thanks to you. Why did you stop?»

  «Because he’s an idiot!» the woman beside me screeched. She moved away to the far side of the car, shunning me as if I had the plague.

  «Because I’m not an idiot,» the man replied calmly. «Why were they out to get you? Never mind, it’s none of my business.»

  «They wanted to rape me,» I said, blurting out the first thing that came into my head. But it was a pretty good story. Right there on the table: not like Moscow, even with all its gangland excesses, more like some saloon in the Wild, Wild West.

  «Where do you want to go?»

  «This will do fine,» I said, looking out at the flaming red letter M above the metro entrance. «I’ll make my own way home.»

  «We can drop you off.»

  «No need. Thanks, you’ve done more than enough already.»

  «All right.»

  He didn’t argue or try to change my mind. The car braked and I got out. I looked at the woman.

  «Thank you,» I said.

  She snorted and jerked away, slamming the door shut.

  Well, there you go.

  But things like that still went to prove that our work did make some kind of sense after all, I thought.

  I automatically straightened out my hair and dusted down my jeans. People walking by eyed me cautiously, but they didn’t shy away, so I couldn’t be looking all that bad.

  How much time did I have before the hunt picked up my trail? Would the boss be able to slow them down?

  That would be good. Because I thought I was beginning to understand what was going on here.

  And I had a chance, only a tiny one maybe, but still a chance.

  I set off toward the metro, taking the cell phone out of Olga’s purse on the way. I started dialing her number, then swore, and dialed my own.

  It rang five times, six, seven.

  I canceled the call and dialed my cell phone number. This time Olga answered right away.

  «Hello?» said a slightly hoarse, unfamiliar voice. My voice.

  «It’s me, Anton,» I shouted. A young guy walking past looked at me in surprise.

  «You dimwit!»

  I wouldn’t have expected anything else from Olga.

  «Where are you, Anton?»

  «Getting ready to go underground.»

  «You’ll have plenty of time for that. What can I do to help?»

  «Are you up to speed on the situation?»

  «Yes, I’m maintaining parallel contact with Boris.»

  «I need to get my body back.»

  «Where can we meet?»

  I thought for a moment.

  «The station where I got out after I tried to detach that black vortex from Svetlana.»

  «Got you. Boris told me about that. Make it three stations farther around the circle, up and to the left.»

  Aha, she was counting off stations on the map of the metro.

  «Yes, that’s okay.»

  «In the middle of the hall. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.»

  «Okay.»

  «Want me to bring you anything?»

  «Just bring me. Anything else is up to you.»

  I folded away the cell phone, took another quick look around, and walked quickly into the station.

  Chapter 4

  I was standing in the center of Novoslobodskaya Station. It’s a common enough scene there when it’s not that late: a girl waiting, maybe for a guy, maybe for a girlfriend.

  In my case, I was waiting for both.

  It would be harder to find me underground than on the surface. Even the best Dark Ones wouldn’t be able to pick up my aura through the layers of earth, through all the ancient graves that Moscow stood on, among the crowd, in that dense, agitated stream of people. Of course, combing all the stations wouldn’t be too hard either: Just one Other with my image for each station would do it.

  But I was hoping I still had an hour or half an hour before the Day Watch made that move.

  How simple everything was, after all. How elegantly the pieces of the puzzle fit together. I shook my head and smiled, and immediately caught a young guy dressed punk-style looking at me inquisitively. No, my young friend, you’re on the wrong track. This sexy body is only smiling at its own thoughts.

  I ought to have got the picture the moment the plotlines all started converging on me. The boss was right, of course. I wasn’t valuable enough. They wouldn’t have come up with a dangerous and costly maneuver lasting years just for my sake. It was all about something else, something completely different.

  They were trying to exploit our weaknesses. Our goodness and love. And it was working, or almost working.

  I suddenly felt like I needed a cigarette really badly; my mouth even filled up with saliva. Strange, I’d never really smoked much; it had to be a reaction from Olga’s body I imagined her a hundred years earlier—an elegant dame with a slim cigarette in a long holder, sitting in some literary salon somewhere with Blok or Gumilev. Smiling as she discussed the Freemasons, the sovereignty of the people, and the urge toward spiritual perfection.

  Ah, here was someone at last!

  «Have you got a cigarette?» I asked a young guy walking past—he was dressed well enough not to smoke cheap garbage like Golden Yava.

  He gave me a surprised look, then held out a pack of Parliaments.

  I took a cigarette, thanked him with a smile, and cast a mild spell over myself. People’s eyes slid off to the side.

  That was better.

  I concentrated, raising the temperature of the tip of the cigarette to two hundred degrees, and inhaled. So we’d wait. And we’d break a few little unquestionable rules.

  People flowed past, giving me a wide berth, about a meter. They sniffed the air in surprise, wondering where the smell of tobacco smoke was coming from. And I smoked, dropping the ash at my feet, eyeing the militiaman standing just five steps away and trying to figure out my chances.

  They turned out to be not that bad. Pretty good, in fact. And that bothered me.

>   If they’d been preparing this maneuver for three years, one option they must have taken into account was that I’d see through it. They must have an answer for that—but what was it?

  It took me a second or two to register the surprised look. And when I realized who was watching me, I started in surprise.

  Egor.

  The kid, the Other with weak powers who’d got caught up in the big fight between the two Watches six months ago. Played for a patsy by both sides. An open card that still hadn’t been dealt. But players don’t fight over cards like that.

  His powers were strong enough to penetrate my casual cover, and the meeting itself didn’t really come as a surprise. There are many chance events in the world, but apart from that, there’s also something called predetermination.

  «Hi, Egor,» I said without even pausing to think. I expanded the range of the spell to include him in the circle of non-attention.

  He started and looked around. Then he started staring at me. Of course, he hadn’t seen Olga in human form. Only as a white owl.

  «Who are you and how do you know me?»

  Yes, he’d grown. Not on the outside, on the inside. I couldn’t understand how he could have avoided making his choice for so long and still not joined the side of Light or the side of Darkness. He’d already entered the Twilight, in circumstances that meant he could have gone either way. But his aura was still as pure and neutral as ever.

  His destiny was his own. It must be good to have your own destiny.

  «I’m Anton Gorodetsky, the Night Watch agent,» I said simply. «Remember me?»

  Of course he remembered me.

  «But…«

  »•Take no notice. It’s a disguise; we can swap bodies.»

  I wondered for a moment if I ought to think back to the course on illusion and temporarily restore my usual appearance. But there was no need—he believed me. Maybe because he remembered the boss’s body swap.

  «What do you want from me?»

  «Nothing, I’m just waiting for a friend, the girl this body belongs to. You just happened to meet me here by chance.»

  «I hate your Watches!»

  «If you say so. But I really haven’t been trailing you. You can go if you want.»