Twilight Watch Read online

  "No, he's not," Svetlana agreed. "But any intervention in the activities of the authorities is prohibited by the Treaty. 'Humans deal with their own affairs, Others deal with theirs…'"

  I didn't say anything. Yes, it was prohibited. Because it was the simplest and surest way of directing the mass of humanity toward Good or Evil. Which was a violation of the equilibrium. There had been kings and presidents in history who were Others. And it had always ended in appalling wars…

  "You'll just be miserable here, Anton…" said Svetlana. "Let's go back to town."

  "But Nadiushka loves it here," I objected. "And you wanted to stay here another week, didn't you?"

  "But you're fretting… Why don't you go on your own? You'll feel happier in town."

  "Anybody would think you wanted to get rid of me," I growled. "That you had a lover here."

  Svetlana snorted. "Can you suggest a single candidate?"

  "No," I said, after a moment's reflection. "Except maybe one of the vacationers…"

  "This is a kingdom of women," Svetlana retorted. "Either single mothers, or their husbands are slaving away and the women are here to give the children some fresh air and exercise… That reminds me, Anton. There was one strange thing that happened here…"

  "Yes?" I asked, intrigued. If Svetlana called something "strange"…

  "You remember Anna Viktorovna came over to see me yesterday?"

  "The teacher?" I laughed. Anna Viktorovna was such a typical school marm, she should have been in the film The Muddle. "I thought she came over to see your mother."

  "My mother and me, too. She has two kids-a little boy, Romka, he's five, and Ksyusha-she's ten."

  "Good," I said, giving Anna Viktorovna my approval.

  "Don't try to be funny. Two days ago the children got lost in the forest."

  My drowsiness suddenly evaporated and I sat up in the hammock, holding onto a tree with one hand. I looked at Svetlana. "Why didn't you tell me straight away? The Treaty's all very well, but…"

  "Don't worry, they got lost, but then they turned up again. They came home in the evening on their own."

  "Well, that's really unusual," I couldn't resist saying. "Children who stayed in the forest for an extra couple of hours. Don't tell me they actually like wild strawberries?"

  "When their mother started scolding them, they started telling her they got lost," Svetlana went on imperturbably. "And they met a wolf. The wolf drove them through the forest-and straight to some wolf cubs…"

  "I see…" I muttered. I felt a vague flutter of alarm in my chest.

  "Anyway, the kids were in a real panic. But then this woman appeared and recited some lines of verse to the wolf, and it ran away. The woman took the kids to her little house, gave them some tea, and showed them to the edge of the forest. She said she was a botanist and she knew special herbs that wolves are afraid of…"

  "Childish fantasies," I snapped. "Are the kids all right?"

  "Absolutely."

  "And here I was expecting some kind of foul play," I said, and lay back down in the hammock. "Did you check them for magic?"

  "They're absolutely clean," said Svetlana. "Not the slightest trace."

  "Fantasies. Or maybe they did get a fright from someone… maybe even a wolf. And some woman led them out of the forest. The kids were lucky, but a good belt…"

  "The young one, Romka, used to stammer. Quite badly. Now he speaks without the slightest problem. He rattles on, recites pieces of poetry…"

  I thought for a moment.

  "Can stammering be cured? By suggestion, you know, hypnosis… or what else is there?"

  "There is no cure for it. Like the common cold. And any doctor who promises to stop you stammering with hypnosis is a charlatan. Of course, if it were some kind of reactive neurosis, then…"

  "Spare me the terminology," I asked her. "So there is no cure. What about folk medicine?"

  "Nothing, except maybe some wild Others… Can you cure stammering?"

  "Even bedwetting," I growled. "And incontinence. But Sveta, you didn't sense any magic, did you?"

  "But the stammer's gone."

  "That can only mean one thing…" I said reluctantly. I sighed and got up out of the hammock after all. "Sveta this is not good. A witch. With Power greater than yours. And you're first level."

  Svetlana nodded. I didn't often mention the fact that her Power exceeded my own. It was the main thing that came between us… that could come between us some day.

  And in any case, Svetlana had deliberately withdrawn from the Night Watch. Otherwise… otherwise she would already have been an enchantress beyond classification.

  "But nothing happened to the children," I went on. "No odious wizard pawed the little girl, no evil witch made soup out of the little boy… No, if this is a witch, why such kindness?"

  "Witches don't have any compulsion to indulge in cannibalism or sexual aggression," Svetlana said pompously, as if she were giving a lecture. "All their actions are determined by plain, ordinary egotism. If a witch were really hungry, she might eat a human being. For the simple reason that she doesn't think of herself as human. But otherwise… why not help the children? It didn't cost her anything. She led them out of the forest and cured the little boy's stammer as well. After all, she probably has children of her own. You'd feed a homeless puppy, wouldn't you?"

  "I don't like it," I confessed. "A witch as powerful as that? They don't often reach first level, do they?"

  "Very rarely." Svetlana gave me a quizzical look. "Anton, do you have a clear idea of the difference between a witch and an enchantress?"

  "I've worked with them," I said curtly. "I know."

  But Svetlana wasn't satisfied with that.

  "An enchantress works with the Twilight directly and draws Power from it. A witch uses accessories, material objects charged with a greater or lesser degree of Power. All the magical artifacts that exist in the world were created by witches or warlocks-you could call them their artificial limbs. Artifacts can be things or cornified elements of the body-hairs, long fingernails… That's why a witch is harmless if you undress her and shave her, but you have to gag an enchantress and tie her hands."

  "For sure nobody's ever going to gag you," I laughed. "Sveta, why are you lecturing me like this? I'm not a Great Magician, but I know the elementary facts. I don't need reminding…"

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," Svetlana apologized quickly.

  I looked at her and saw the pain in her eyes.

  What a brute I was. How long could I go on taking out my complexes on the woman I loved? I was worse than any Dark One…

  "Svetka, forgive me…" I whispered and touched her hand. "Forgive a stupid fool."

  "I'm no better myself," Svetlana admitted. "Really, why am I lecturing you on the basics? You deal with witches every day in the Watch…"

  Peace had been restored, and I was quick to say, "With ones as powerful as this? Come on, in the whole of Moscow there's only one first-level witch, and she retired ages ago… What are we going to do, Sveta?"

  "There is no actual reason to interfere," Sveta said thoughtfully. "The children are all right, the boy's even better off than he was before. But there are still two questions that need to be answered. First, where did the strange wolf that drove the children toward the cubs come from?"

  "That's if it was a wolf," I remarked.

  "If it was," Svetlana agreed. "But the children's story hangs together very well… And the second question is-is the witch registered in this locality, and what's her record like?"

  "We'll soon find out," I said, taking out my cell phone.

  Five minutes later I had the answer. There was nothing in the Night Watch records about any witches in the area and there shouldn't be any.

  Ten minutes after that I walked out of the yard, armed with instructions and advice from my wife-in her capacity as a potential Great Enchantress. On my way past the barn, I glanced in through the open doors-Kolya was hovering over the open hood o
f the car, and there were some parts lying on a newspaper spread out on the ground. Holy Moses… all I'd done was mention a knocking sound in the engine!

  And Uncle Kolya was singing too, crooning quietly to himself:

  We're not stokers and not carpenters either,

  But we're not bitter, we have no regrets!

  Those were clearly the only lines his memory had retained. And he kept repeating them nonstop as he rummaged enthusiastically in the engine:

  We're not stokers and not carpenters either,

  But we're not bitter, we have no regrets!

  When he spotted me, Uncle Kolya called out happily, "This is going to cost you more than half a liter, Antosha! Those Japanese have completely lost it. The things they've done to the diesel engine, I can hardly bear to look."

  "They're not Japanese, they're Germans," I corrected him.

  "Germans?" Uncle Kolya said. "Ah, right, it's a BMW, and I've only fixed Subarus before… I was wondering why everything was done different… Never mind, I'll put it back together. Only my head's humming, the son of a bitch…"

  "Look in to Sveta. She'll pour you a drop," I said, accepting the inevitable.

  "No." Uncle Kolya shook his head. "Not while I'm working, no way… Our first farm chairman taught me that-while you're messing with the metal, not a single drop. You go on, go on. I've got enough here to keep me busy till the evening."

  Bidding a mental farewell to the car, I walked out into the dusty, hot street.

  Little Romka was absolutely delighted at my visit. I walked in just as Anna Viktorovna was about to suffer ignominious defeat in the battle of the afternoon nap. Romka, a skinny, suntanned little kid, was bouncing up and down on the springy bed and yelling ecstatically.

  "I don't want to sleep by the wall! My knees get all bent!"

  "What can I do with him?" asked Anna Viktorovna, very glad to see me. "Hello, Anton. Tell me, does your Nadyenka behave like this?"

  "No," I lied.

  Romka stopped jumping up and down and pricked up his ears.

  "Why don't you take him and keep him?" Anna Viktorovna suggested craftily. "What do I want with a silly dunce like him? You're a strict man. You'll teach him how to behave. He can look after Nadyenka, wash her nappies, wash the floors for you, put the garbage out…"

  As she said all this Anna Viktorovna kept winking at me emphatically, as if I really might take her suggestion seriously and carry off little Romka as an underage slave.

  "I'll think about it," I said, to support her pedagogical efforts. "If he just won't do anything he's told, we'll take him for reeducation. We've had worse cases, and they turned out as meek as lambs."

  "No, you won't take me!" Romka said boldly, but he stopped bouncing, sat down on the bed and pulled the blanket up over his legs. "What would he want with a silly dunce like me?"

  "Then I'll put you in a boarding school," Anna Viktorovna threatened.

  "Only heartless people put children in boarding schools," said Romka, clearly repeating a phrase he'd heard somewhere. "But you're not heartless."

  "What can I do with him?" Anna Viktorovna repeated rhetorically. "Can I offer you some cold kvass?"

  "Me too, me too!" Romka squealed, but a stern glance from his mother shut him up.

  "Thank you," I said with a nod. "Actually, it was this silly dunce that I came to see you about…"

  "What has he been up to?" asked Anna Viktorovna, taking a businesslike approach.

  "It's just that Sveta told me about their adventures… about the wolf. I'm a hunter, and the thing is…"

  A minute later I was already sitting at the table with a glass of cold kvass, the center of attention.

  "Yes, I know what they say, but I'm a teacher," Anna Viktorovna was saying. "They say wolves help clean up the forest… only it's not true, of course, a wolf doesn't just kill sick animals. It kills any animals it can get… But it's still a living creature. A wolf's not to blame for being a wolf… But here-right next to the village. Chasing children! It drove them toward the cubs. Do you realize what that means?"

  I nodded.

  "It was teaching the cubs to hunt." Anna Viktorovna's eyes lit up, either with fear or that mother's fury that sends wolves and bears running for the bushes. "What was it-a man-eater?"

  "It couldn't have been," I said. "There haven't been any cases of wolves attacking people around here. There haven't been any wolves at all left in these parts for a long time… most likely it was a feral dog. But I want to check."

  "Yes, check," Anna Viktorovna said firmly. "And if… even if it's a dog. If the children didn't imagine the whole thing…"

  I nodded again.

  "Shoot it," Anna Viktorovna asked me. And then she added in a whisper, "I can't sleep at night… for imagining… what could have happened."

  "It was a doggy!" Romka piped up from the bed.

  "Hush!" Anna Viktorovna shouted at him. "All right then, come here. Tell the nice man what happened."

  Romka didn't need to be asked twice. He got down off the bed, came over to us, clambered up onto my knees with a very serious air and looked into my eyes searchingly.

  I ruffled up his coarse, sun-bleached hair.

  "So this is what happened…" Romka began contentedly.

  Anna Viktorovna looked at him in a very sad sort of way. I could understand her. It was these little kids' father that I couldn't understand. All sorts of things can happen… okay, so they were separated… but after that, how could anyone just cancel his own children out of his life, and do nothing but pay the alimony?

  "We walked and walked, you know, we were out for a walk," Romka told us with agonizing slowness. "And after we walked for a while we reached the forest. And then Ksyusha started telling me scary stories…"

  I listened to his story very carefully. Well, the "scary stories" might be one more reason to believe the whole business was just imagination, but there was the child speaking perfectly clearly. Save for repeating a few words in the usual way for his age, there was nothing to find fault with.

  Just to be on the safe side, I scanned the boy's aura. A little human being. A good little human being, and I wanted to believe he would grow up into a good adult. Not the slightest sign of any Other potential. And no traces of magical influence.

  But then, if Svetlana hadn't spotted anything, what could I expect, with my second-level abilities…

  "And then the wolf laughed out loud!" Romka exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in glee.

  "Weren't you frightened?" I asked.

  To my surprise, Romka thought about that for a long time.

  Then he said, "Yes, I was. I'm little, and the wolf was big. And I didn't have a stick-where would I get a stick from in the forest? And then I stopped being afraid."

  "So you're not afraid of the wolf now?" I asked. After an adventure like that, any normal child would have developed a stammer, but Romka had lost his.

  "Not a bit," said the boy. "Oh, now you've gotten me lost! What part did I get to?"

  "The part where the wolf laughed," I said with a smile.

  "Just exactly like a man," said Romka.

  So that was it. It was a long time since I'd had any dealings with werewolves. Especially werewolves as brazen as this… hunting children, only a hundred kilometers from Moscow. Had they been counting on the fact that there was no Night Watch in the little village? But then, the district office checked every case when someone went missing. They had a very skillful, specialized magician for that. From the normal human viewpoint what he did was pure charlatanism-he looked at photographs, and then either put them aside or phoned the operations office and said in an embarrassed voice, "I think I've got something here… I'm not quite sure what…"

  And then we would have swung into action, driven out into the country, found the signs… and the signs would have been terrible, but we were used to that. Then the werewolves would probably have resisted arrest. And someone-it could easily have been me-would have waved his hand. Then a jan
gling gray haze would have gone creeping through the Twilight…

  We rarely took that kind alive. But this time I really wanted to.

  "And what I think as well," Romka said thoughtfully, "is that the wolf said something. I think so, I think so… Only he didn't talk. I know wolves don't talk, do they? But I dream that he did talk."

  "And what did he say?" I asked cautiously.

  "Go away, witch!" Romka said, trying in vain to imitate a hoarse bass voice.

  Right. I could already issue the warrant for a search. Or at least request help from Moscow. It was a werewolf, no doubt about it. But fortunately for the little kids, there was a witch there too.

  A powerful witch.

  Very powerful.

  She hadn't just driven away the werewolf-she'd tidied up the kids' memories without leaving any trace. Only she hadn't gone in deep. She hadn't expected there would be a vigilant watchman in the village… The boy didn't remember anything when he was awake, but in his dream-there it was. "Go away, witch!"

  How very interesting.

  "Thank you, Romka." I held out my hand to him. "I'll go to the forest and take a look."

  "But aren't you afraid? Have you got a gun?" Romka asked eagerly.

  "Yes."

  "Show it to me."

  "It's at home," Anna Viktorovna said strictly. "And guns aren't toys for children."

  Romka sighed and asked plaintively, "Only don't shoot the cubs, all right? Better bring me one and I'll train it as a dog. Or two-one for me, one for Ksyusha!"

  "Roman." Anna Viktorovna snapped in a voice of iron.

  I found Ksyusha at the pond, as her mother had said I would. A flock of little girls was sunbathing beside a pack of little boys, and the gibes were flying thick in both directions. The male sun-bathers were old enough not to pull the girls' braids anymore, but they still didn't understand what girls were any good for.

  When I turned up everyone stopped talking and stared at me warily. I hadn't put in an appearance in the village before.

  "Oksana?" I asked the little girl I thought I'd seen in the street with Romka.

  The very serious girl in a dark blue swimsuit looked at me, nodded, and said politely, "Hi… hello."