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  "What's it to you?" Vitaly asked in a slightly offended voice. "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 wasn't high enough to try arguing with me. I might only be a simple patrol witch, but that was way above a mercenary werewolf.

  "All right then, you guys, tell me the procedure to be followed after the discovery on 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 vigilance, 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?" 1 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 penalized. You will inform the duty officer."

  The werewolf said nothing.

  "Repeat what I said, security guard."

  He realized it was stupid to resist and repeated it.

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

  "Bon appetit…" the werewolf muttered after me. Those creatures have no discipline-the animal half of them is just too strong.

  "I hope that in a genuine battle you will be at least half as brave as this little mouse," I replied as I got into the elevator. I caught Kostya's eye-it seemed to me that the young vampire was embarrassed, and even glad that the cruel amusement was at an end.

  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 she was struck dumb.

  Lena Kireeva squealed and then howled: "Oh, how lovely." Zhanna Gromova giggled and asked if I was going to make the "thief's elixir"-which includes a boiled mouse as an essential component-and what I was planning to steal afterward. 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 Tikhonovna 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 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 gawking 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," Lena Kireeva said in a quiet voice. She flicked her thick head of long red hair. Oh, that hair of Lena 's, anyone would envy it. But the comforting thing is that nothing else is up to the same standard.

  "Yes, it was a mistake to ban 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 polish. "But it's ve-ry ti-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 an entire kilogram of mice to make up for it."

  "We could work it out," Olya suggested. "We torture this mouse to death and count the total amount of 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.

  "I'll give it to my daughter. She's six years old. It's time she was caring for someone and looking after them. That's good for a girl."

  There was an awkward silence for a moment. Of course, it's nothing 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 very good for us, or for the Light Ones either. Lena hadn't been lucky, even though her husband was a Dark magician and 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, pointing at the mouse with a magnanimous gesture. "I'll come round some time to visit."

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

  "It will sleep until the evening for certain."

  "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 runs away it will gnaw everything and leave filthy droppings everywhere."

  Anna Lemesheva thoughtfully observed everything that was going on 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 without 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 intended for the present numbers of the Watch. All that could fit into the room were four small tables for us and one big desk, where Anna Lemesheva sat. The room reminded me a bit of a school classroom in some tiny village, with a class of four pupils and one teacher.

  Lemesheva waited until we'd all switched on our computers and logged onto the network. Then she began in her resonant voice: "Today's assignment is the usual one: patrolling the southeast region of Moscow. You will choose your partners in the guardroom from 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 raised, then instead of ordinary operatives they give us warlocks or some of the junior magicians for partners. But that doesn't happen very often.

  "Lenochka, you're patrolling Vykhino and Liublino…"

  Lena Kireeva, who had stealthily launched a game of solitaire on her computer, started, and prepared to argue. I could hardly blame her. Two huge districts and a long way off 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 indig
nant.

  But just at that moment, the phone on Lemesheva's desk rang. We exchanged glances, and even Lena 's eyes became serious. That was the direct telephone link with 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 went vague-the duty magician was sending her telepathic guidelines to the situation.

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

  "To your brooms…" Lena whispered quietly. The brief phrase 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 strict and tough.

  "Into the bus, girls. Everyone. Look lively!"

  This meant something very serious. This meant a fight.

  Chapter two

  –«¦»-

  The minibus was driven by Deniska, a young Dark magician so incredibly lazy that he preferred working in the garage among the vampires and other small timers. But his laziness didn't stop him knowing how to drive, and he knew perfectly a few spells that were essential for his job. We literally flew along the road as we made our way to the city center at a speed that the presidential cortege could only dream about. I felt the surges of Power when he examined the reality lines, made the militiamen look the other way, or made other drivers steer their cars off to the side. Sitting beside him was Edgar, a plump, swarthy, dark-haired magician from Estonia who looked nothing like a person from the Baltic, but possessed magical abilities that were almost second-level.

  There were nine of us in the vehicle. I could hardly remember Anna Lemesheva ever leaving the Watch building before, but she was sitting in the chair by the door, monotonously reciting the guidelines:

  "Darya Leonidovna Romashova. Sixty-three years old, looks considerably younger, probably constantly nourished by Power. Presumably a witch, but could possibly be a Dark Sorceress. Under observation for the last four years as an uninitiated Other."

  At this point Lemesheva permitted herself to swear briefly and obscenely, addressing her abuse to the members of the detection department. "Apparently she refuses all contact. She avoids conversations on mystical subjects, citing her religious piety! What has faith got to do with the abilities of an Other? It's a different question who that Christ of theirs was…"

  "Anna Tikhonovna, don't blaspheme," Lena said quietly but insistently. "I believe in the Lord God, too."

  "I'm sorry, Lena," Lemesheva said with a nod. "I didn't mean to offend you. Let's continue… Romashova has probably been earning a bit from small-scale magic. Love potions, hate potions, hexes, removing curses…"

  "The standard charlatan's stock-in-trade," I put in. "No wonder they didn't bother to check her seriously."

  "And what about monitoring her results and finding out if she really did help people?" Lemesheva asked. "No, I'm going to write a report. If Zabulon thinks this is good work-then sack me! It's time for me to retire."

  Olga cleared her throat in warning.

  "I'm prepared to say it to his face!" Lemesheva was obviously worked up. "Well, I ask you, they suspect a woman is a witch for four years, but they don't bother to check properly! It's a standard procedure-we send an agent and monitor the discharge of Power… And the Light Ones did it, by the way!"

  So that was it. Now I understood and I immediately gathered myself. What lay ahead wasn't just an incident with a crazy witch who had done something she shouldn't have. It was a fight with the Night Watch.

  Vitaly growled indistinctly in his seat opposite me, more likely trying to keep his courage up than expressing delight at the battle ahead. He'd grown lazy standing watch, this brave mouse-hunter. I smiled spitefully, and the werewolf snarled and bared his teeth slightly. They had already started to grow, and his lower jaw was stretching forward.

  "Vitaly, spare us the spectacle of transformation in the vehicle," Lemesheva said sharply. "In this heat the stink of dog will be quite unbearable!"

  The trio of vampires on the backseat all began to laugh. I knew those guys quite well; they had been tested in action, and by and large, I didn't find them repulsive at all-not like most non-life. Three brothers, born a year apart, strong, well-built young men from an ordinary human family. The eldest had become a vampire first, when he was working in a regiment of paratroopers, and he'd done it deliberately, out of ideological considerations-his commanding officer, who was a vampire, had suggested the young man should become a vampire too. Their unit was in action somewhere in the South at the time. Things weren't going too well, and the young man had agreed. Of course, after that the unit became incredibly effective in battle. Killing a dozen enemies a night, penetrating the enemy's rear line, walking past sentries without being seen-for a vampire, even an inexperienced one, all this is child's play. Afterward, when he returned to civilian life, the young man had told his younger brothers everything, and they had offered up their own throats for biting.

  "Anna Tikhonovna, how many of them are there?" Olga asked. "The Light Ones?"

  "A few. Four… maybe five. But"-Lemesheva ran her stern gaze over all of us-"you mustn't relax, girls. There's at least one second-level Light magician."

  The oldest vampire brother whistled. Facing a magician, especially one that powerful, was beyond a vampire's abilities. And if there were two of them…

  "And the girl shape-shifter's there," said Lemesheva, looking at me.

  I clenched my teeth. So, Tiger Cub was there. The shape-shifting battle magician, as the Light Ones preferred to call her. An old acquaintance of mine… and a close one. I seemed to feel an ache in my left arm, which she had once pulled out of its socket. And I remembered the wounds on my face-four bloody lines from her claws.

  But Zabulon himself had helped me then. He had healed me completely so there was no damage either to my appearance or my health. And I used to go into battle boldly and cheerfully, feeling his approving glance and restrained, patient smile.

  It's over. That's all behind you now, Aliska. What used to he is gone now. Forget it and don't torment yourself. If they tear your face, you'll have to wear the paranjah all the time, until your turn comes for magical healing, and the line's six months long. And you'll be lucky if they consider you worthy of complete healing, including cosmetic magic…

  "Everybody check your equipment," Anna Lemesheva commanded.

  The girls started bustling about, and I patted my pockets, checking on the tiny packets, little bottles, and amulets. A witch's Power doesn't lie only in controlling energy through the Twilight. We also employ auxiliary means, which is what really distinguishes us from sorceresses.

  "Alisa?"

  I looked at Lemesheva.

  "Do you have any suggestions?"

  That was better. I had to think about the future, not about the past.

  "The operatives can neutralize Tiger Cub. All four of them."

  "We don't need any help, Aliska," the oldest vampire brother said good-naturedly. "We'll manage."

  Lemesheva thought for a moment and nodded

  "All right, the three of you work together. Vitaly, you're with me, my reserve."

  The werewolf smiled happily. What a fool. Anna Lemesheva would toss him into the fire like a splinter of wood. Right into the very hottest spot.

  "And the four of us…"

  "Five," Lemesheva corrected me.

  Aha, so the old crone has decided to do some work herself?

  "The five of us form a Circle of Power," I suggested. "And we feed it all to Edgar. Deniska maintains contact with headquarters."

  The minibus bounced over a few potholes and bumps. We were already driving into the yard between the buildings.

  "Yes, that's the only possible way to play it," Lemesheva agreed. "Take note, everybody! That's the way we'll work!"

  I felt slightly excited that my plan had been accepted completely. I was still a genuine battle witch, after all.
Even with all my personal problems. That was why I took the risk of speaking up and overstepping my bounds on the senior witch's final decision on how the group worked.

  "But I would suggest summoning help in advance. If there are two second-level magicians there."

  "All possible help has already been summoned," Lemesheva snapped. "And we still have an ace of trumps up our sleeves."

  Vitaly looked at the old witch in surprise and grinned proudly with his wolf's fangs. A fool twice over. She didn't mean him. He was no ace, just a common low card… and certainly not a trump.

  "Right, girls, let's get started!"

  Our minibus stopped. Anna Lemesheva jumped out spryly and waved her left hand. A fine, dark dust swirled around her fingers for an instant and I felt a spell of inattention enfold the yard. Now, no matter what we did, ordinary people would take no notice of us.

  We tumbled out of the minibus.

  It was just an ordinary yard in South Butovo. Oh, what a dump… I'd rather live somewhere in Mytishchi or Lytkarino than be formally registered as a Muscovite and live in that terrible place. There seemed to be everything there should be: houses and stunted little trees trying to grow in the compressed clay, and wretched little cars standing at the entrances, but…

  "Get on with it!"

  Lemesheva gave me a kick that bounced me about three meters away from the minibus. I almost went flying into the sandbox, where a boy and a girl about five years old were discussing the mysterious art of building sandcastles.

  But even the little children didn't notice me, although they're always more sensitive to the presence of Others.

  The vampire brothers went dashing past me like three shadows. They surrounded the minibus, already in the process of transformation: Their fangs were growing out between their teeth, and their skin was taking on a pale, sickly tinge. The typical appearance of non-life…

  "The Circle!" Lemesheva barked. I dashed across to the minibus like a bullet and grabbed Olya and Lena by the hand. Oh, the old witch was strong!

  But there was someone standing in the entrance to the house, visible only to our sight as Others-a short, stocky guy… definitely a guy-you couldn't call him anything else-wearing worn Turkish jeans and a synthetic T-shirt, with a ridiculous cap on his head.