The Day Watch Part 3

"Thou shalt not kill!" the driver declared. "Eh? What do you say to that? A universal commandment!"

"You might as well say 'don't boil a young goat in its mother's milk." Do you watch TV and read the newspapers?" I asked.

"Sometimes. But I don't enjoy it."

"Then why do you call 'Thou shalt not kill' a commandment? Thou shalt not kill... It was in the news this morning-down South they've taken another three people hostage and they're demanding a ransom. They've already cut a finger off each one of them to show their demands are serious. And one of the hostages, by the way, is a three-year-old girl. They cut her finger off too."

The driver's fingers tightened their grip on the wheel and turned pale.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.ds..." he hissed. "Monsters. I heard that all right. But they're sc.u.m, they're inhuman-they have to be to do something like that. I'd strangle them all with my bare hands..."

I kept quiet. The driver's aura was blazing bright scarlet. I didn't want him to crash; he was almost out of control.

My thrust had been too accurate-he had a little daughter of his own...

"String them up on the telegraph poles!" he continued, still raging. "Burn them with napalm!"

I kept quiet and waited until the driver had gradually calmed down. Then I asked: "Then what about those universal moral commandments? If they gave you a machine gun now, you'd press the trigger without even hesitating."

"There aren't any commandments that apply to monsters!" the driver snarled. His calm, cultured manner had disappeared without a trace now! There were streams of energy pouring out of him in all directions... and I soaked it up, quickly replenis.h.i.+ng the Power that I'd spent earlier that morning.

"Not even terrorists are monsters," I said. "They're human beings. And so are you. And there are no commandments for human beings. That's a scientifically proven fact."

As I drew in the energy that was bursting out of him, the driver calmed down. It wouldn't last long, of course. That evening the pendulum would swing back, and he'd be overcome by rage again. It's like pumping all the water out of a well very quickly-it comes rus.h.i.+ng back in again.

"But even so, you're not right," he replied more calmly. "Logic does exist, of course, yes... But if you compare things with the Middle Ages, then morality has definitely advanced."

"Don't be ridiculous!" I said, shaking my head. "How has it advanced?... Even in the wars back then they had a strict code of honor. A war then was a real war, and kings fought with their armies, risking their thrones and their heads. And now? A big country wants to put pressure on a little one, so it bombs it for three months and gets rid of its outdated armaments at the same time. Not even the soldiers risk their lives! It's the same as if you drove up onto the sidewalk and started knocking down pedestrians like bowling pins."

"The code of honor was for the aristocrats," the driver objected sharply. "The simple people died in droves."

"And is it any different today?" I asked. "When one oligarch settles scores with another, there's a certain code of honor that's observed! Because both of them have goons to kill for them, compromising material about each other, certain interests in common, certain family ties. They're just like the old aristocracy! Kings sitting up to their ears in cabbage. And the simple people are trash. A herd of sheep that are good for shearing, but sometimes it's more profitable to slaughter them. Nothing's changed. There never were any commandments, and there aren't any now!"

The driver fell silent.

After that he didn't say another word all the way. We turned off Kamergerskaya Street onto Tverskaya Street and I told him where to stop. I paid, deliberately giving him more than I should have. It was only then that he spoke again.

"I'll never give a witch a lift again," he told me with a crooked grin. "It's too hard on the nerves. I never thought a conversation with a beautiful girl could spoil my mood so badly."

"I'm sorry," I said, and smiled sweetly.

"Have a good day at... work." He slammed the door and drove off abruptly.

Well, well. I'd never been taken for a prost.i.tute before, but he seemed to think that was what I was. That was the effect of the paranjah... and the district we were in, of course.

But at least I'd more than made up for the Power I'd used up earlier. He'd turned out to be a magnificent donor, this intelligent, cultured, strong man. The only time I'd ever done better was... it was with the Prism of Power.

I shuddered at the memory.

It had all been so stupid... everything about it had been so monstrously stupid.

My entire life had gone downhill as a result. I'd lost everything in a single moment.

"You fool! You greedy fool!"

It was a good thing that none of the people could see my real face. It probably looked about as pitiful as my stupid young neighbor's.

Anyway, what was done was done. I couldn't turn back the clock, put things right and win back... his affection. It was my own fault, of course. And I ought to be glad that Zabulon hadn't handed me over to the Light Ones.

He used to love me. And I loved him... it would have been ridiculous for a young, inexperienced witch not to fall in love with the head of the Day Watch when he looked favorably on her...

My fists were clenched so tight that the nails were biting into the skin. I'd struggled through. I'd survived last summer. The Darkness only knew how, but I'd survived.

And now there was no point in remembering the past and sniveling and trying to catch Zabulon's eye again. He hadn't spoken to me since the hurricane last year-the one that had hit on the day when I was captured so shamefully. And he wouldn't speak to me for the next hundred years. I was sure of it.

A car moving slowly along the curb stopped with a quiet rustle of tires. It was a decent car, a Volvo, and it hadn't come from the junkyard. A jerk with a shaven head stuck his smug face out of the window, looked me up and down, and broke into a satisfied smile. Then he hissed.

"How much?"

I was dumbstruck.

"For two hours-how much?" the idiot with the shaved head asked more specifically.

I looked at the number plate-it wasn't from Moscow. So that was it.

"The prost.i.tutes are farther down, you halfwit," I said amiably. "Get lost."

"Anyone would think you didn't screw," the disappointed idiot said, trying to save face. "Think it over, I'm feeling generous today."

"You hold onto your capital," I advised him and clicked my fingers. "You'll need it to fix your car."

I turned my back to him and walked toward the building. My palm was aching slightly from the recoil. The "gremlin" isn't a very complicated spell, but I'd cast it in too much of a hurry. I'd left the Volvo with an incorporeal creature fiddling about under its hood-not even a creature really, but a bundle of energy with an obsessive pa.s.sion for destroying technology.

If he was lucky, his engine was finished. If he was unlucky, then his fancy bourgeois electronics would blow-the carburetors, the ventilators, all those gearwheels and drive-belts that the car was crammed full of. I'd never taken any interest in the insides of an automobile except in the most general terms. But I had a very clear i.e. of the result of using the "gremlin."

The disappointed man drove off without wasting too much time arguing. I wondered if he'd remember what I'd said when his car started going haywire. He was bound to. He'd shout, "She hexed it, the witch!" And he wouldn't even know just how right he was.

The thought amused me, but nonetheless, the day had been hopelessly spoiled.

I was five minutes late for work, and there was that quarrel with my mother, and that idiot in the Volvo...

With these thoughts in my head I walked past the magnificent, gleaming shop windows, raised my shadow from the ground without even thinking about it, and entered the building through a door that ordinary people can't see.

The headquarters of the Light Ones, near the Sokol metro station, is disguised as an ordinary office. We have a more respectable location and our camouflage is a lot more fun. This building, with seven floors of apartments above shops that are luxurious even by Moscow standards, has three more floors than everyone thinks. It was specially built that way as the Day Watch residence, and the spells that disguise the building's true appearance are incorporated into the very bricks and stone of the walls. The people living in the building, who are mostly perfectly ordinary, probably feel a strange sensation whenever they ride the elevator up-as if it takes too long to get from the first floor to the second...

The elevator does take longer than it should because the second floor is actually the third, and the real second floor is invisible-it houses our duty offices, armaments room, and technical services. Our other two floors are on the top of the building, and not a single human being knows about them either. But any Other who is powerful enough can look through the Twilight and see the severe black granite walls and the window arches that are almost always covered with thick, heavy curtains. Ten years ago they installed air-conditioners-that's when the clumsy boxes of the split systems appeared on the walls. Before that the internal climate was regulated by magic-but why waste it like that, when electricity is far cheaper?

I once saw a photograph of our building taken through the Twilight by a skillful magician. It's an incredible sight! A crowded street with people walking all dressed up in their finest, cars driving along, shop windows and apartment windows... a pleasant old woman looking out of one window, and a cat sitting in another one, looking disgruntled and gloomy-animals can sense our presence very easily. And running parallel to all this: two entrances to the building from Tverskaya Street, with the doors swung open, and in one doorway there's a young vampire from security, polis.h.i.+ng his nails with a file. Directly above the shops there's a strip of black stone with the crimson spots of windows in it... And the two top floors seem to weigh down on the building like a heavy stone cap.

If only I could show that photograph to the people who live there! But then, they'd all think the same thing-a clumsy piece of photomontage! Clumsy, because the building really does look awkward... When everything was still all right between Zabulon and me, I asked him why our offices were located so strangely, mixed in with the humans' apartments. The boss laughed and explained that it made it more difficult for the Light Ones to try any kind of attack-innocent people might get killed in the fighting. Everybody knows that the Light Ones don't worry about people at all either, but they have to hedge around what they do with all sorts of hypocritical tricks-so the seven floors of apartments make a very reliable s.h.i.+eld.

The tiny duty office on the first floor, with the two elevators (the people living in the building don't know about them either) and the fire stairs, seemed to be empty. There was no one behind the desk or in the armchair in front of the television. It took me a moment to spot the two security guards who should have been there according to the staff list: a vampire-I think his name is Kostya-who had only joined the Watch very recently, and the werewolf Vitaly from Kostroma, also a civilian employee, who'd been working for us as long as I could remember. Both guards were standing quite still, huddled over in the corner. Vitaly was giggling quietly. Just for an instant I had a quite crazy i.e. about the reason for such strange behavior.

"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-s.h.i.+fters. They're primitive beasts of labor-not to mention 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 backward, looking a bit embarra.s.sed.

I walked over.

There was a little gray mouse das.h.i.+ng 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 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 toward the tiny creature, sometimes it clattered 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."

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

I reached down and picked up the mouse that had frozen 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 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, c.o.c.kroaches, 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 appet.i.t..." 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 embarra.s.sed, and even glad that the cruel amus.e.m.e.nt 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 s.h.i.+ft, 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 a.s.sault 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 ma.s.s consciousness, a caricature of vicious s.a.d.i.s.ts and monsters... Why torment the poor mouse?"

"It does create a certain discharge of energy," said Olya, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g 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-s.h.i.+fters-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.