The Night Watch
Page 40
'I knew I'd find you here,' said Zabulon.
He was looking at me. And only at me.
'How stupid,' he said, shaking his head. 'What do you need all this for, eh?'
He took a step forward and Alisa darted out of his way.
'A good job, prosperity, self-esteem, all the joys of the world – all in your grasp, all you have to do is decide what you'll have this time. But you're so stubborn. I don't understand you, Anton.'
'And I don't understand you, Zabulon,' said the boss, blocking his way.
The Dark Magician reluctantly redirected his gaze.
'Then you must be getting old. The person in your lover's body is Anton Gorodetsky, the same person we suspect of the serial killings of Dark Ones. Just how long has he been hiding in there, Boris? Didn't you notice the substitution?'
He laughed.
I looked round at the Dark Ones. They still hadn't understood. They needed another second, or half a second.
Then I saw Svetlana raise her hand, with a yellow magical flame flickering in her palm.
So now she'd passed the fifth-grade test – but this was still a battle we could only lose. There were three of us and six of them. If Svetlana struck – not to save herself, but to get me out of this fix – there'd be a bloodbath.
I leapt forward.
It was a good thing Olga's body was well trained and in such good shape. It was a good thing that all of us – Light Ones and Dark Ones – weren't really used to relying on the strength of our arms and legs, on simple, crude violence. And the best thing of all was that Olga, who had been deprived of most of her magic, hadn't neglected the skills of physical combat.
Zabulon doubled up with a hoarse gasp when my fist – or rather, Olga's – sank into his stomach. I swept his legs from under him with a single kick and ran outside.
'Stop!' howled Alisa in a voice filled with admiration, loathing and love all at once.
The hunt was on.
I ran down Pokrovka Street in the direction of Zemlyanoi Val Street, with my handbag bouncing hard against my back. It was a good thing I wasn't wearing high heels. I had to get away, to disappear. I'd really enjoyed the urban survival course, but it was so short – who could have imagined a Night Watch agent would end up running and hiding, instead of chasing and catching?
I heard a screeching wail behind me.
I leapt aside in a pure reflex response, before I could even understand what was happening. A streak of crimson flame came hurtling down the street, coiling and twisting as it passed me, then it tried to stop and turn back, but its inertia was too great: the charge crashed into the wall of a building, momentarily turning the stones white hot.
I tripped and fell, glancing back. Zabulon was recharging his battle staff, but he was moving very slowly, as if there were something hindering him, slowing him down.
He was shooting to kill.
There wouldn't have been even a handful of dust left if I'd been caught by Shahab's Lash.
So the boss was wrong after all. The Day Watch didn't want what was inside my head. They wanted to eliminate me completely.
The Dark Ones were chasing after me. Zabulon was aiming his staff. The boss was restraining Svetlana as she struggled to break free. I got to my feet and started running again, already knowing there was no way I could escape. At least there was nobody around: instinctive, subconscious fear had swept everybody off the street the moment our confrontation began. Nobody else would get hurt.
I heard a squeal of brakes and looked round just in time to see the Day Watch agents jump out of the way of a car careering wildly along the street. The driver stopped for a moment, evidently thinking he'd driven into the middle of a gangland shootout, then picked up speed again.
Should I stop him? No, it wasn't allowed.
I jumped on to the pavement and squatted down, hiding from Zabulon behind an old Volga, letting the stray driver pass. The silver Toyota hurtled past me and then screeched to a halt with a smell of burning brakes.
The door on the driver's side opened and a hand beckoned to me.
Things like this just don't happen!
Heroes only get rescued by passing cars in cheap action movies.
At least that's what I was thinking as I opened the back door and jumped in.
'Get us out of here!' cried the woman sitting next to me. But the driver didn't need any encouragement, we were already moving. There was a flash behind us and the driver swerved out of the path of a streak of fire. The woman began wailing.
How did they see what was happening? As automatic gunfire? Salvos of rockets? A blast from a flame-thrower?
'Why did you come back, why?' the woman asked, trying to lean forward to hit the driver in the back. I was all set to grab her arm, but before I could the car jerked forward and tossed the woman back against the seat.
'Don't,' I said gently.
She glared at me indignantly. She had every right. What woman would be pleased to see her husband stop and risk his life for an attractive, dishevelled female stranger and take her into his car when it's being chased by a gang of armed bandits?
At least the immediate danger was past now. We came out on to Zemlyanoi Val Street and drove on in a solid stream of traffic. My friends and my enemies were both left a long way behind.
'Thanks,' I said to the short hair on the back of the driver's head.
'Did you get hit?' he asked without even turning round.
'No, thanks to you. Why did you stop?'
'Because he's a dumb fool!' the woman beside me yelled. She moved away to the far side of the car, shunning me as if I had the plague.
'Because I'm not a jerk,' the man replied calmly. 'Why were they out to get you? Never mind, it's none of my business.'
'They wanted to rape me,' I said, blurting out the first thing that came into my head. But it was a pretty good cover.
'Where do you want to go?'
'This will do fine,' I said, looking out at the flaming red letter M above the metro entrance. 'I'll make my own way home.'
'We can drop you off.'
'No need. Thanks, you've already done more than enough.'
'All right.'
He didn't argue or try to change my mind. The car braked and I got out. I looked at the woman.
'Thank you,' I said.
She snorted and jerked away, slamming the door shut.
Well, there you go.
But things like that still went to prove our work did make some kind of sense, after all, I thought.
I automatically tidied my hair and dusted down my jeans. People walking by eyed me cautiously, but they didn't shy away, so I couldn't be looking all that bad.
How much time did I have before the hunt picked up my trail? Would the boss be able to slow them down?
That would be good. Because I thought I was beginning to understand what was going on here.
And I had a chance, only a tiny one maybe, but still a chance.
I set off towards the metro, taking the cell phone out of Olga's bag on the way. I started dialling her number, then swore and dialled my own.
It rang five times, six, seven.
I ended the call and dialled my own mobile number. This time Olga answered straight away.
'Hello?' said a slightly hoarse, unfamiliar voice. My voice.
'It's me – Anton,' I shouted. A man walking past looked at me in surprise.
'You idiot!'
I wouldn't have expected anything else from Olga.
'Where are you, Anton?'
'Getting ready to go underground.'
'You'll have plenty of time for that. What can I do to help?'
'Are you up to speed on the situation?'
'Yes, I'm in parallel contact with Boris.'
'I need to get my body back.'
'Where can we meet?'
I thought for a moment.
'The station where I got off after I tried to remove that black vortex from Svetlana.'
'Sure. Boris told me where. Make it three stations further round the circle line, up and to the left.'
She was counting off stations on the plan of the metro.
'Yes, that's okay.'
'In the centre of the hall. I'll be there in twenty minutes. Want me to bring you anything?'
'Just bring me. Anything else is up to you.'
I folded away the phone, shot another look around and walked quickly into the station.
CHAPTER 4
I WAS STANDING in the centre of Novoslobodskaya station. It's a common enough sight there when it's not really late yet: a girl waiting, maybe for a bloke, maybe for a girlfriend.
In my case, I was waiting for both.
It would be harder to find me underground than on the surface. Even the cleverest of the Dark Magicians wouldn't be able to pick up my aura through the layers of earth, through all the ancient graves that Moscow stood on, among the crowd, in that dense, agitated stream of people. Of course, combing all the stations wouldn't be too hard either: just one Other with my image for each station would do it.
But I was hoping I still had an hour or at least half an hour before the Day Watch made that move.
How simple everything was, after all. How elegantly the pieces of the puzzle fitted together. I shook my head and smiled, and immediately caught the eye of a young guy dressed in punk style looking at me inquisitively. No, my friend, you're on the wrong track. This woman is only smiling at her own thoughts.
I ought to have got the picture the moment the plotlines all started converging on me. The boss was right, of course. I wasn't valuable enough. They wouldn't have come up with a risky and costly manoeuvre lasting years just for me. It was all about something else, something completely different.
They were trying to exploit our weaknesses. Our goodness and love. And it was working, or almost working.
I suddenly felt like I needed a cigarette really badly, my mouth even filled with saliva. Strange, I'd never really smoked much, it had to be a reaction from Olga's body. I imagined her a hundred years earlier – an elegant woman with a slim cigarette in a long holder, sitting in some literary salon somewhere with Alexander Blok or Gumilev. Smiling as she discussed the Freemasons, the sovereignty of the people and mankind's urge towards spiritual perfection.
Ah, here was someone at last!
'Have you got a cigarette?' I asked a young man walking past – he was dressed well enough not to smoke cheap shit like Golden Yava.
He gave me a surprised look, then held out a pack of Parliaments.
I took one, thanked him with a smile and cast a mild spell over myself. People's eyes slid off to the side.
That was better.
He was looking at me. And only at me.
'How stupid,' he said, shaking his head. 'What do you need all this for, eh?'
He took a step forward and Alisa darted out of his way.
'A good job, prosperity, self-esteem, all the joys of the world – all in your grasp, all you have to do is decide what you'll have this time. But you're so stubborn. I don't understand you, Anton.'
'And I don't understand you, Zabulon,' said the boss, blocking his way.
The Dark Magician reluctantly redirected his gaze.
'Then you must be getting old. The person in your lover's body is Anton Gorodetsky, the same person we suspect of the serial killings of Dark Ones. Just how long has he been hiding in there, Boris? Didn't you notice the substitution?'
He laughed.
I looked round at the Dark Ones. They still hadn't understood. They needed another second, or half a second.
Then I saw Svetlana raise her hand, with a yellow magical flame flickering in her palm.
So now she'd passed the fifth-grade test – but this was still a battle we could only lose. There were three of us and six of them. If Svetlana struck – not to save herself, but to get me out of this fix – there'd be a bloodbath.
I leapt forward.
It was a good thing Olga's body was well trained and in such good shape. It was a good thing that all of us – Light Ones and Dark Ones – weren't really used to relying on the strength of our arms and legs, on simple, crude violence. And the best thing of all was that Olga, who had been deprived of most of her magic, hadn't neglected the skills of physical combat.
Zabulon doubled up with a hoarse gasp when my fist – or rather, Olga's – sank into his stomach. I swept his legs from under him with a single kick and ran outside.
'Stop!' howled Alisa in a voice filled with admiration, loathing and love all at once.
The hunt was on.
I ran down Pokrovka Street in the direction of Zemlyanoi Val Street, with my handbag bouncing hard against my back. It was a good thing I wasn't wearing high heels. I had to get away, to disappear. I'd really enjoyed the urban survival course, but it was so short – who could have imagined a Night Watch agent would end up running and hiding, instead of chasing and catching?
I heard a screeching wail behind me.
I leapt aside in a pure reflex response, before I could even understand what was happening. A streak of crimson flame came hurtling down the street, coiling and twisting as it passed me, then it tried to stop and turn back, but its inertia was too great: the charge crashed into the wall of a building, momentarily turning the stones white hot.
I tripped and fell, glancing back. Zabulon was recharging his battle staff, but he was moving very slowly, as if there were something hindering him, slowing him down.
He was shooting to kill.
There wouldn't have been even a handful of dust left if I'd been caught by Shahab's Lash.
So the boss was wrong after all. The Day Watch didn't want what was inside my head. They wanted to eliminate me completely.
The Dark Ones were chasing after me. Zabulon was aiming his staff. The boss was restraining Svetlana as she struggled to break free. I got to my feet and started running again, already knowing there was no way I could escape. At least there was nobody around: instinctive, subconscious fear had swept everybody off the street the moment our confrontation began. Nobody else would get hurt.
I heard a squeal of brakes and looked round just in time to see the Day Watch agents jump out of the way of a car careering wildly along the street. The driver stopped for a moment, evidently thinking he'd driven into the middle of a gangland shootout, then picked up speed again.
Should I stop him? No, it wasn't allowed.
I jumped on to the pavement and squatted down, hiding from Zabulon behind an old Volga, letting the stray driver pass. The silver Toyota hurtled past me and then screeched to a halt with a smell of burning brakes.
The door on the driver's side opened and a hand beckoned to me.
Things like this just don't happen!
Heroes only get rescued by passing cars in cheap action movies.
At least that's what I was thinking as I opened the back door and jumped in.
'Get us out of here!' cried the woman sitting next to me. But the driver didn't need any encouragement, we were already moving. There was a flash behind us and the driver swerved out of the path of a streak of fire. The woman began wailing.
How did they see what was happening? As automatic gunfire? Salvos of rockets? A blast from a flame-thrower?
'Why did you come back, why?' the woman asked, trying to lean forward to hit the driver in the back. I was all set to grab her arm, but before I could the car jerked forward and tossed the woman back against the seat.
'Don't,' I said gently.
She glared at me indignantly. She had every right. What woman would be pleased to see her husband stop and risk his life for an attractive, dishevelled female stranger and take her into his car when it's being chased by a gang of armed bandits?
At least the immediate danger was past now. We came out on to Zemlyanoi Val Street and drove on in a solid stream of traffic. My friends and my enemies were both left a long way behind.
'Thanks,' I said to the short hair on the back of the driver's head.
'Did you get hit?' he asked without even turning round.
'No, thanks to you. Why did you stop?'
'Because he's a dumb fool!' the woman beside me yelled. She moved away to the far side of the car, shunning me as if I had the plague.
'Because I'm not a jerk,' the man replied calmly. 'Why were they out to get you? Never mind, it's none of my business.'
'They wanted to rape me,' I said, blurting out the first thing that came into my head. But it was a pretty good cover.
'Where do you want to go?'
'This will do fine,' I said, looking out at the flaming red letter M above the metro entrance. 'I'll make my own way home.'
'We can drop you off.'
'No need. Thanks, you've already done more than enough.'
'All right.'
He didn't argue or try to change my mind. The car braked and I got out. I looked at the woman.
'Thank you,' I said.
She snorted and jerked away, slamming the door shut.
Well, there you go.
But things like that still went to prove our work did make some kind of sense, after all, I thought.
I automatically tidied my hair and dusted down my jeans. People walking by eyed me cautiously, but they didn't shy away, so I couldn't be looking all that bad.
How much time did I have before the hunt picked up my trail? Would the boss be able to slow them down?
That would be good. Because I thought I was beginning to understand what was going on here.
And I had a chance, only a tiny one maybe, but still a chance.
I set off towards the metro, taking the cell phone out of Olga's bag on the way. I started dialling her number, then swore and dialled my own.
It rang five times, six, seven.
I ended the call and dialled my own mobile number. This time Olga answered straight away.
'Hello?' said a slightly hoarse, unfamiliar voice. My voice.
'It's me – Anton,' I shouted. A man walking past looked at me in surprise.
'You idiot!'
I wouldn't have expected anything else from Olga.
'Where are you, Anton?'
'Getting ready to go underground.'
'You'll have plenty of time for that. What can I do to help?'
'Are you up to speed on the situation?'
'Yes, I'm in parallel contact with Boris.'
'I need to get my body back.'
'Where can we meet?'
I thought for a moment.
'The station where I got off after I tried to remove that black vortex from Svetlana.'
'Sure. Boris told me where. Make it three stations further round the circle line, up and to the left.'
She was counting off stations on the plan of the metro.
'Yes, that's okay.'
'In the centre of the hall. I'll be there in twenty minutes. Want me to bring you anything?'
'Just bring me. Anything else is up to you.'
I folded away the phone, shot another look around and walked quickly into the station.
CHAPTER 4
I WAS STANDING in the centre of Novoslobodskaya station. It's a common enough sight there when it's not really late yet: a girl waiting, maybe for a bloke, maybe for a girlfriend.
In my case, I was waiting for both.
It would be harder to find me underground than on the surface. Even the cleverest of the Dark Magicians wouldn't be able to pick up my aura through the layers of earth, through all the ancient graves that Moscow stood on, among the crowd, in that dense, agitated stream of people. Of course, combing all the stations wouldn't be too hard either: just one Other with my image for each station would do it.
But I was hoping I still had an hour or at least half an hour before the Day Watch made that move.
How simple everything was, after all. How elegantly the pieces of the puzzle fitted together. I shook my head and smiled, and immediately caught the eye of a young guy dressed in punk style looking at me inquisitively. No, my friend, you're on the wrong track. This woman is only smiling at her own thoughts.
I ought to have got the picture the moment the plotlines all started converging on me. The boss was right, of course. I wasn't valuable enough. They wouldn't have come up with a risky and costly manoeuvre lasting years just for me. It was all about something else, something completely different.
They were trying to exploit our weaknesses. Our goodness and love. And it was working, or almost working.
I suddenly felt like I needed a cigarette really badly, my mouth even filled with saliva. Strange, I'd never really smoked much, it had to be a reaction from Olga's body. I imagined her a hundred years earlier – an elegant woman with a slim cigarette in a long holder, sitting in some literary salon somewhere with Alexander Blok or Gumilev. Smiling as she discussed the Freemasons, the sovereignty of the people and mankind's urge towards spiritual perfection.
Ah, here was someone at last!
'Have you got a cigarette?' I asked a young man walking past – he was dressed well enough not to smoke cheap shit like Golden Yava.
He gave me a surprised look, then held out a pack of Parliaments.
I took one, thanked him with a smile and cast a mild spell over myself. People's eyes slid off to the side.
That was better.
