The Night Watch (49 page)

'Boys, what's that you're doing over there?' I asked sharply. There's no point in being too polite with these vampires and shape-shifters. They're primitive beasts of labour – and as well as that the vampires are non-life, but they still claim to be no worse than magicians and witches.

'Come here, Aliska!' Vitaly said, beckoning to me without turning round. 'This is a real gas.'

But Kostya straightened up sharply and took a step backwards, looking a bit embarrassed.

I walked over.

There was a little grey mouse dashing around Vitaly's feet. It stopped dead still, then jumped up in the air, then began squeaking and beating desperately at the air with its little paws. I didn't understand for a moment, until I tried looking through the Twilight.

So that was it.

There was a huge, glossy cat jumping about beside the mouse. Sometimes it reached its paw out towards the tiny creature, sometimes it snapped its jaws together. Of course, it was only an illusion, and a primitive one at that, created exclusively for the small rodent.

'We're seeing how long it can hold out!' Vitaly said happily. 'I bet it will die of fright in a minute.'

'I see,' I said, beginning to see red. 'Now I understand. Having fun are we? Did your hunting instincts get the better of you?'

I reached down and picked up the mouse that had frozen dead still in fear. The tiny bundle of fur trembled on my hand. I blew on it gently and whispered the right word. The mouse stopped trembling, then it stretched out on my palm and went to sleep.

'What's it to you?' Vitaly asked in a slightly offended tone. 'Aliska, in your line of work you're supposed to boil these creatures alive in your cauldron!'

'There are a few spells like that,' I admitted. 'And there are some that require the liver of a werewolf killed at midnight.'

The werewolf's eyes glittered brightly with malice, but he didn't say anything. His rank was too low to try arguing with me. I might only be a simple patrol witch, but that made me a cut above a mercenary werewolf.

'All right, then, you guys, tell me the procedure to be followed following the discovery in the premises of rodents, cockroaches, flies, mosquitoes,' I said in a slow, lazy voice.

'Activate the pest control amulet,' Vitaly said reluctantly. 'If any of the creatures should be observed not to be affected by the action of the amulet, then it should be captured, exercising great care, and handed over to the duty magician for checking.'

'You do know it ... So we're not dealing with a case of forgetfulness
here. Have you activated the amulet?' I asked.

The werewolf gave the vampire a sideways glance and then looked away.

'No.'

'I see. Failure to carry out duty instructions. As the senior member of the duty detail, you will be penalised. You will inform the duty officer.'

The werewolf said nothing.

'Repeat what I said, security guard.'

He realised it was stupid to defy me and repeated my words.

'And now get back to serving your watch,' I said and walked to the left, still carrying the sleeping mouse on my open palm.

'Bon appétit,'
the werewolf muttered after me. Those creatures have no discipline – the animal half of them is just too strong.

'I hope that in a real battle you would be at least half as brave as this little mouse,' I replied as I got into the lift. I caught Kostya's eye – and it seemed to me that the young vampire was embarrassed, and even glad that the cruel amusement was over.

My appearance in the department with a mouse in my hand caused an uproar.

Anna Lemesheva, the senior witch on our shift, was about to launch into her usual tirade about young people who haven't been taught any discipline – 'Under Stalin for being five minutes late you'd have been packed off to a camp in Kolyma to brew potions' – when she saw the mouse and was struck dumb. Lenka Kireeva squealed and then howled: 'Oh, how lovely'. Zhanna Gromova giggled and asked if I was going to make the 'thief's elixir', which has a boiled mouse as an essential ingredient, and what I was planning to steal afterwards. Olya Melnikova finished painting her nails and congratulated me on a successful hunt.

I put the little creature down on my desk as if I never came to work without a fresh mouse and told everyone how the security guards had been amusing themselves.

Anna shook her head:

'Is that why you were late?'

'Partly,' I said honestly. 'Anna Tikhonovna, I was incredibly unlucky with the traffic. And then there were those nitwits playing their games.'

Anna Lemesheva is an old and experienced witch; it's pointless trying to deceive her by putting on a brave front. She's about a hundred years old, and after all the things she'd seen, the game with the mouse was hardly going to seem cruel. But even so she pursed her lips and declared:

'These werewolves have no respect for the idea of duty. When we were stationed at Revel, fighting the Swedes, we had a saying: "If they send the Watch a werewolf, detail a witch to watch him." What would have happened if an assault group of Light Ones had burst in while both guards were gawping at that rodent? They could have sent the mouse in deliberately. It's disgraceful. I think you should have demanded more serious punishment, Alisa.'

'The lash,' Lenka Kireeva said in a quiet voice. She flicked her head of long red hair. Oh, that hair of Lenka's, anyone would envy it. But the comforting thing is that none of the rest of her is up to the same standard.

'Yes, it was a mistake to end the practice of punishment with the lash,' Anna replied coldly. 'Throw that creature out of the window, Alisa.'

'I feel sorry for it,' I objected. 'It's blockheads like those two who are responsible for the image of Dark Ones that exists in the mass consciousness, a caricature of vicious sadists and monsters . . . Why torment the poor mouse?'

'It does create a certain discharge of energy,' said Olya,
screwing the lid onto her nail varnish. 'But it's very i-ny . . .'

She shook her hands in the air.

Zhanna snorted derisively.

'A discharge! They used up so much energy creating the illusory cat, they'd have to torture a kilo of mice to make up for it.'

'We could work it out,' Olya suggested. 'We torture this mouse to death and measure the total power emitted . . . only we'd need a pair of scales as well.'

'You're terrible,' Lena said angrily. 'And you're quite right, Alisa! Can I take the mouse?'

'What for?' I asked jealously.

'To give to my daughter. She's six, it's time she had something to care for and look after. That's good for a girl.'

There was an awkward silence. Of course, it's not so unusual. It's rare for an Other to have a child who is also an Other . . . Very rare. It's simpler for vampires – they can initiate their own child, and it's simpler for shape-shifters – their children almost always inherit the ability to change form. But the chances are not so good for us, or for the Light Ones either. Lena hadn't been lucky, even though her husband was a Dark Magician and a former staff member of the Day Watch, who had retired after he was wounded and become a businessman.

'Mice don't live very long,' Olya observed. 'There'll be tears and tantrums.'

'That's all right, it'll live a long time with me,' Lena laughed. 'Ten years at least. Pavel and I will make sure of that.'

'Then take it!' I said, indicating the mouse with a magnanimous gesture. 'I'll come round to visit some time.'

'Did you put it into a deep sleep?' Lena asked, picking the mouse up by the tail.

'It will sleep until the evening for sure.'

'Good.'

She carried the mouse to her desk, shook the floppy disks out of a cardboard box and put the little creature in it.

'Buy a cage,' Olga advised as she admired her nails. 'Or an aquarium. If it escapes it will gnaw everything to pieces and leave filthy droppings everywhere.'

Anna Lemesheva had followed the conversation thoughtfully and then clapped her hands.

'All right, girls. That's enough distraction. The unfortunate creature has been saved and it has found a new home. Things could hardly have been resolved more elegantly. Now let's begin our briefing.'

She's a very strict boss, but not malicious. She doesn't make things hard for anyone for no reason, and she'll let you fool about, or leave early if necessary. But when it comes to work, it's best not to argue with her.

The girls all sat in their places. Our room is small; after all, the building wasn't meant for the present numbers of the Watch. All that could fit were four small tables for us and one big desk, where Anna Lemesheva sat. The room reminded me of a school class- room in some tiny village somewhere, with a class of four pupils and one teacher.

Lemesheva waited until we'd all switched on our computers and accessed the network; then she began in her resonant voice:

'Today's assignment is the usual: patrolling the south-east region of Moscow. You will choose your partners in the guardroom from among the available operatives.'

We always go on duty in pairs, usually one witch and one shape-shifter or vampire. If the level of patrols is stepped up, then instead of ordinary operatives they give us warlocks or some of the junior magicians as partners. But that doesn't happen very often.

'Lenochka, you're patrolling Vykhino and Liublino.'

Lena Kireeva, who had stealthily begun playing patience on her computer, started and prepared to argue. I could understand why. Two huge districts and a long way away too. Nothing would come of it, of course. Anna Lemesheva would insist on having her own way as always, but Kireeva couldn't help feeling indignant.

But just at that moment the phone on Lemesheva's desk rang. We exchanged glances, and even Lena's eyes became serious. It was the direct line from the operations duty officer, it didn't just ring for nothing.

'Yes,' said Lemesheva. 'Yes. Of course. I understand. I accept the detail.'

For a moment her expression became vague – the duty magician was sending her a telepathic briefing on the situation.

That meant it was serious, that there was work to do.

'To your brooms . . .' Lenka whispered quietly. The line, from a children's cartoon, was a traditional saying with us. 'I wonder who they'll send,' she said.

But when Anna Lemesheva put the receiver down, her expression was firm and tough.

'Into the bus, girls. Everyone. Look lively.'

So much for 'to your brooms'.

This meant something very serious. This meant a fight.

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Sergei Lukyanenko

SECOND BOOK IN THE NIGHT WATCH TRILOGY

Alice, a young but powerful Dark Other, attends a planning meeting with her comrades in the Day Watch. The team is on a mission to apprehend an uninitiated Other, a practicing Dark witch who has so far eluded the bureaux responsible for finding and initiating unlicensed practitioners of magic.

It seems a routine operation. But when they arrive, the Night Watch team has already made the arrest. A fierce battle ensues, during which Alice almost dies. Drained of her powers, she is sent to recuperate at a youth camp near the Black Sea. There she meets Igor; the chemistry between them is instant and irresistible.

But then comes a shattering realisation: Igor is a Light Mage. There is now no alternative to a magical duel, a battle that neither of them wants to win . . .

'One of the most original and readable supernatural fictions in
some time.'
Scotland on Sunday

'JK Rowling, Russian style ... [A] cracking read, owing more to
Rowling or Philip Pullman than it does to the horror genre . . .
Readable and addictive'
Daily Telegraph

ALSO AVAILABLE IN WILLIAM HEINEMANN

Sergei Lukyanenko

THIRD BOOK IN THE NIGHT WATCH TRILOGY

Its high summer in Moscow. With wife Svetlana and daughter Nadya still away, spending the summer on a dacha not far from Moscow, Night Watch Agent Anton Gorodetsky is trying to enjoy his last day off. But when a call comes in from Gesar – his Boss and Night Watch head – requesting a private meeting, it quickly becomes clear he's going back to work early . . .

Gesar has received an anonymous note, stating that an Other has revealed the full truth about their kind to a human, and now intends to do the supposedly impossible: convert that human into an Other. Even more worryingly, the note has been sent to Zabulon head of the Day Watch, and to the Inquisition's offices in Berne – and only the very highest-level Others know the address . . .

'One of the most original and readable supernatural fictions in
some time.'
Scotland on Sunday

'JK Rowling, Russian style ... [A] cracking read, owing more to
Rowling or Philip Pullman than it does to the horror genre . . .
Readable and addictive'
Daily Telegraph