The Nightwatch Page 10

  "Getting ready to fight?"

  I looked at Egor, thinking what a really bright kid he was. But still a kid. And if I told him now that the great battle between Good and Evil was approaching, that he could be one of the new Jedi of the Twilight world, then he'd be ours.

  Only not for long.

  "No, Egor. There aren't very many of us."

  "The Light Others? You mean there are more Dark ones?"

  Now he was all set to leave home, abandon mom and dad, put on his shining armor and set out to die for the cause of Good…

  "There aren't many Others in general. Egor, the battle between Good and Evil has been going on for thousands of years, with the balance shifting all the time. Sometimes Good has won, but if you only knew how many people, who had no idea the Twilight world even exists, were killed in the process. There aren't many Others, but every one of them can get thousands of ordinary people to follow him. Egor… if the battle between Good and Evil breaks out, half the people in the world will be killed. That's why almost fifty years ago a treaty was signed. The Great Treaty between Good and Evil, Darkness and Light."

  His eyes were open really wide.

  I sighed and went on:

  "It's a short treaty. I'll read it out to you—in the official Russian translation. You already have a right to know."

  I closed my eyes and peered into the darkness. The Twilight swirled into life behind my eyelids. A gray banner unfurled, covered with blazing red letters. The treaty must not be recited from memory; it may only be read:

  We are the Others,

  We serve different forces,

  But in the twilight there is no difference between the absence of darkness and the absence of light.

  Our struggle is capable of destroying the world.

  We have concluded a Great Treaty, a truce.

  Each side shall live according to its own laws,

  Each side shall have its own rights.

  We delimit our own rights and our own laws.

  We are the Others.

  We establish the Night Watch,

  So that the forces of Light may monitor the forces of Darkness.

  We are the Others.

  We establish the Day Watch,

  So that the forces of Darkness may monitor the forces of Light.

  Time will decide for us.

  The boy's eyes were even bigger and rounder.

  "Light and Darkness live at peace?"

  "Yes."

  "Those… the vampires…" He kept coming back over and over again to the same subject. "They're Dark Ones?"

  "Yes. They're people who have been totally transformed by the Twilight world. They acquire immense powers, but they lose the gift of life itself. And they can continue existing only by using the energy of other beings. Blood's the most convenient form for transferring it."

  "And they kill people!"

  "They can exist on donor's blood. It's like processed foods; it doesn't taste so good, but it is still nutritious. If the vampires just went out hunting…"

  "But they attacked me!"

  He was only thinking about himself right now… That wasn't good.

  "Some vampires break the law. That's why we need the Night Watch, to police the observance of the Treaty."

  "Then… vampires don't just go around hunting people, right?"

  I felt a breath of wind against my cheek from invisible wings. The claws dug into my shoulder.

  "Now what are you going to tell him, Night Watch agent?" Olga whispered from out of the depths of the Twilight. "Will you risk telling him the truth?"

  "Yes, they go hunting," I said. Then I added the thing that had struck me as most terrible of all five years earlier. "If they have a license. Sometimes… sometimes they need living blood."

  He didn't ask immediately. I could read everything the boy was thinking in his eyes, everything he wanted to ask. And I knew I'd have to answer all the questions.

  "Then what do you do?"

  "We make sure there's no poaching."

  "Then they could have attacked me… under that treaty of yours? With a license?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "They could have drunk my blood? And you would have just walked by and looked the other way?"

  Light and Darkness…

  I closed my eyes. The Treaty blazed brightly in the gray mist. Stark words, the product of thousands of years of war, costing millions of lives.

  "Yes."

  "Go away…"

  The boy was as tense as a coiled spring. On the brink of hysteria, on the brink of insanity.

  "I came to protect you."

  "Don't bother!"

  "The girl-vampire's on the loose. She tried to attack…"

  "Go away!"

  Olga sighed.

  "Now you've done it!"

  I stood up. Egor shuddered and moved his stool farther away from me.

  "You'll understand someday," I said. "We have no other option…"

  I didn't believe the words I was saying. And it was pointless to argue now. It was getting dark outside; pretty soon it would be hunting time…

  The boy followed me, as if he wanted to make sure I left the apartment and didn't hide in the cupboard. I didn't say another word, just opened the door and went out into the stairwell. The door slammed shut behind me.

  I walked up one flight and squatted down by the landing window. Olga didn't say anything and neither did I.

  You can't just go and reveal the truth like that out of the blue. It's not easy for a normal person even to admit that we exist. But to come to terms with the Treaty…

  "There was nothing we could have done," said Olga. "We underestimated the boy, both his powers and his fear. We were discovered. We were obliged to answer his questions and to tell the truth."

  "Are we drawing up a report?" I asked.

  "If you only knew how many reports like that I've drawn up…"

  There was a smell of decay from the garbage chute. Outside the noisy street was slowly descending into the evening dusk. The streetlamps were already beginning to flicker. I sat there, toying with my cell phone and wondering if I ought to call the boss now or wait for him to call. Boris Ignatievich was probably observing me.

  He was bound to be.

  "Don't expect the boss to be able to give you too much help," said Olga. "He's up to his ears already with that black vortex."

  The phone in my hands started trilling.

  "Guess who?" I said as I opened it up.

  "Woody Woodpecker. Or Whoopi Goldberg."

  I wasn't in the mood for jokes.

  "Yes?"

  "Where are you, Anton?"

  The boss sounded tired, worn out. I'd never heard him sound like that before.

  "On a landing in a big, ugly apartment block. Beside the garbage chute. It's quite warm here, pretty comfortable really."

  "Did you find the boy?" the boss asked, sounding entirely uninterested.

  "Yes…"

  "Good. I'll send you Tiger Cub and Bear. There's nothing for them to do here anyway. And you come to Perovo. Immediately."

  I was just reaching for my pocket when the boss added:

  "If you haven't got any money… or even if you have, stop a militia car and get them to bring you here as fast as they can."

  "Do you really mean that?" I asked.

  "Absolutely. You can leave right away."

  I looked out the window into the darkness.

  "Boris Ignatievich, it's not a good idea to leave the kid alone. He really is potentially very powerful…"

  "I know that… Okay. The guys are on their way. There's no danger to the boy once they're there. Wait for them to arrive, then come straight here immediately."

  He hung up. I folded away my cell phone and squinted sideways at my shoulder.

  "What do you make of that, Olga?"

  "It's strange."

  "Why? You said yourself they wouldn't be able to handle it."

  "It's strange that he wanted you to go, not me
…" Olga said thoughtfully. "Maybe… no, it can't be that. I don't know."

  I took a look through the Twilight and spotted two little specks right on the horizon. The field operatives were hurtling along so fast they would reach me in about fifteen minutes.

  "He didn't even ask the address," I commented gloomily.

  "He didn't want to waste any time. Didn't you feel him take the coordinates?"

  "No."

  "You need more training, Anton."

  "I don't work in the field."

  "You do now. Let's go downstairs. We'll hear the Call."

  I got up—that spot on the stairs had begun to feel really comfortable, just like home—and set off down the staircase. I was miserable; I had a really bad feeling about this. A door slammed behind my back. I turned around.

  "I'm afraid," Egor said, coming straight to the point.

  "Everything's fine." I started walking back up. "We're guarding you."

  He chewed on his lips, shifting his gaze from me to the gloom of the staircase and back again. He didn't want to let me back into the flat, but he couldn't bear to be alone any longer.

  "I think someone's watching me," he said eventually. "Are you doing that?"

  "No. Most likely it's the vampire."

  The boy didn't even shiver. I hadn't told him anything new.

  "How does she attack?"

  "She can't come in through the door unless she's invited. That's one thing about vampires that the fairy tales have right. You'll feel like you want to go out yourself. In fact, you already want to go out."

  "I won't go out!"

  "When she uses the Call, you'll go. You'll understand what's happening, but you'll still go anyway."

  "Can you… can you tell me what to do? Anything?"

  Egor had given in. He wanted help, any help he could get.

  "lean. Trust us."

  He hesitated only for a second.

  "Come in." Egor stepped back from the door. "Only… Mom will be back from work any moment."

  "What of it?"

  "Are you going to hide? What should I tell her?"

  "That's no problem," I said dismissively. "But I…"

  The door of the next apartment opened cautiously, just a crack, on the chain. A wrinkled, old woman's face peeped out.

  I touched her mind, lightly, just for an instant, as carefully as possible so as not to do any more damage to a reason that was already shaky…

  "Ah, it's you…" the old woman said with a beaming smile. "You, you…"

  "Anton," I prompted her politely.

  "And there was I wondering who the stranger was, wandering up and down," said the old granny, taking off the chain and coming out onto the landing. "The times we live in, the outrageous things people get up to, they just do whatever they like…"

  "It's all right. Everything's going to be all right. Why don't you watch TV, there's a new series just starting."

  The old woman nodded, shot me a friendly glance, and disappeared into her apartment.

  "What series?" asked Egor.

  I shrugged.

  "I don't know. There must be something. Isn't there always some soap opera or other?"

  "And how do you know our neighbor?"

  "Me? Her? I don't."

  The boy said nothing.

  "Just one of those little things,"' I explained. "We are the Others. And I won't come in, thanks; I have to go away now."

  "What?"

  "There'll be different guards here to look after you, Egor. And don't worry—they're far more professional than I am."

  I took a glance through the Twilight; two bright orange lights were just approaching the entrance of the building.

  "I… I don't want them," said the boy, panicking immediately. "I want you to stay!"

  "I can't. I have another assignment."

  Down below the entrance door slammed and there was a clatter of footsteps on the stairs. The action heroes disdained the elevator.

  "I don't want them!" Egor grabbed hold of the door as if he'd decided to shut himself in. "I don't trust them!"

  "You either trust all of the Night Watch or you don't trust anybody," I told him strictly. "We're not supermen in red and blue cloaks who work alone. We're just employees. The police of the Twilight world. What I say goes for the Night Watch."

  "But who are they?" The kid was beginning to accept it. "Magicians?"

  "Yes, but highly specialized ones."

  Tiger Cub appeared below me on the bend of the staircase.

  "Hi there, guys!" the girl exclaimed cheerfully, bounding up an entire flight in a single leap.

  It was a superhuman leap. Egor winced and took a step backward, gazing watchfully at Tiger Cub. I shook my head: The girl was clearly poised on the very edge of transformation. She was enjoying it, and just at that moment she had good reason to be feeling frisky.

  "How are things over there?" I asked.

  Tiger Cub sighed loudly and then smiled:

  "Oh… a laugh a minute. Everybody's in a panic. You get going, Antoshka, they're waiting for you… So it's you I'm looking after, right?"

  The boy looked her over without saying anything. To be honest, the boss had made a great choice when he decided to get Tiger Cub to protect him. Everyone, from young children to old folks, liked her and trusted her. They do say even some of the Dark Ones have sometimes been charmed by her. But then, that was their mistake…

  "No one's looking after me," the boy answered at last. "My name's Egor."

  "And I'm Tiger Cub," said the girl, already inside the apartment. She gave the kid a friendly hug around the shoulders. "Show me around the battlefield! Let's start preparing our defenses!"

  I started down the stairs, shaking my head as I went. In five minutes Tiger Cub would be showing the kid how she got her name.

  "Hi," Bear rumbled as he walked up toward me.

  "Hi." We shook hands quickly. Of all the Watch agents, Bear was the one I was leery of.

  Bear was a little bit taller than average, strongly built, with a face that gave absolutely nothing away. He didn't like to talk a lot. Nobody knew where he spent his time when he wasn't working, or where he lived, except maybe Tiger Cub. There were rumors that he wasn't even a magician, but a shape-shifter. They said that first he used to work for Day Watch and then, during some mission, he suddenly switched over to our side. But that was all a load of nonsense. Light Ones don't become Dark Ones, and Dark Ones don't turn into Light Ones. But there was something about Bear that made you stop and wonder.

  "Your car's waiting," the field agent told me without bothering to stop. "The driver's a real ace. You'll be there before you know it."

  Bear had a slight stammer, so he kept his sentences short. He was in no hurry; Tiger Cub was already on guard. But I had no time to hang around.

  "Are things tough over there?" I asked, walking faster. The answer came from above me now:

  "Worse than that."

  I bounded down several steps at a time and dashed out of the entrance. The car was standing there all right—I slowed down for a moment to admire it. A classy maroon-colored BMW, the latest model, with a flashing light carelessly stuck on the roof. Both doors on the side facing the building were open. The driver was leaning out of the car, hastily smoking a cigarette, and I could just make out the bulge of a holster under the flap of his jacket. Standing by the back door was an absolutely monumental middle-aged man. Under his open coat he was wearing a very expensive suit, with a Duma deputy's badge glinting on his lapel. The man was speaking on his cell phone:

  "Who is he anyway? I'll get there when I can! What! What damned girls? Have you gone crazy? Can't you do a single thing on your own?"

  The deputy squinted at me, cut short his conversation without saying goodbye, and got into the car. The driver took a deep drag, tossed his cigarette away, and grabbed hold of the wheel. The engine howled softly, and I barely had time to get into the front seat before the car moved away. Icy branches scraped across the outside of the
door.

  "You gone blind, or something?" the deputy barked at his driver, though I was the one to blame for what had happened. But as soon as the owner of the car turned to face me his tone changed: "You need to get to Perovo?"

  It was the first time I'd ever taken a ride with a representative of authority. And this guy was either a top man in the militia or a gangland boss. I realized in theory that there was no difference as far as a Night Watch agent's powers were concerned, but I'd never tried to experiment before.

  "Yes, back to where the guys came from. And make it quick…"

  "Hear that, Volodya?" the deputy said to the driver. "Step on it!"

  Volodya stepped on it so hard I started feeling a bit queasy, and I even glanced into the Twilight to see if we were going to get there.

  It seemed like we were. Only not just because of our driver's skill or because, like any Night Watch agent, I have an artificially elevated success coefficient. It looked like someone had gone through the probability field, weeding out all the accidents, traffic jams, and overzealous traffic cops.

  The only person in our department who could have done that was the boss himself. But what for?

  "I'm feeling a bit frightened too," whispered the invisible bird on my shoulder. "When I was with Count…"

  She stopped short, as if she'd realized she was speaking a bit too freely.

  The car drove through a red light at an intersection, following an incredible twisting course, dodging between the saloons and station wagons. Someone at a bus stop waved a hand in our direction.

  "Like a sip?" the Duma deputy inquired amiably, holding out a small bottle of Rémy Martin and a throwaway plastic cup. It looked so funny, I poured myself thirty grams without even thinking about it. Even at that speed the car was providing a smooth ride; the cognac didn't spill.

  I handed back the bottle, nodded, took the Walkman earphones out of my pocket, put them in and started the disc. Out came this really, really old song, "Sundays"—my favorite.

  It was a small town, no bigger than a child's toy,

  There'd been no plagues or invasions there since long ago.

  The cannon rusted in silence on its fortress tower,

  And the travelers' roads passed it by.

  And so year after year, no holidays or working days—