The Twilight Watch (31 page)

You could say she'd gone back to work.

'Shall I put you in the picture?' Edgar asked.

Gesar nodded.

'And Gorodetsky?' Edgar enquired.

'He's with me.'

'That's your right.' Edgar nodded to me. 'Well then, we have a
quite exceptional occurrence here . . .'

Why was he telling us by speaking words?

I tried to ask Svetlana, reaching out to her with my mind . . .

And ran into a blank wall.

The Inquisition had blocked off the whole area. That was why
they'd called Gesar on his mobile, and not contacted him telepathically.
Whatever it was that had happened here, it had to be
kept secret.

What Edgar said next confirmed what I was thinking.

'Since this event must be kept an absolute secret,' he said, 'I
request everyone present to lower their defences and prepare to
receive the seal of the Avenging Fire.'

I glanced sideways at Gesar – he was already unbuttoning his
shirt. Zabulon, Svetlana, Kostya, even Edgar himself – they were
all disrobing.

I pulled up my polo-neck sweater and resigned myself to what
was to follow. The Avenging Fire . . .

'We here present swear never to divulge to anyone, at any time
or in any place, what is revealed to us in the course of the investigation
into this event!' said Edgar. 'I do so swear!'

'I do so swear!' Svetlana said and took hold of my hand.

'I do so swear,' I whispered.

'I do so swear . . . so swear . . . so swear . . .' said voices on every
side.

'And if I should violate this oath of secrecy, may the hand of
the Avenging Fire destroy me!' Edgar concluded.

There was a blindingly brilliant red flash from his fingers. A
flaming imprint of his hand seemed to hover in the air, then it
divided into twelve and the blazing palms started drifting towards
us, very slowly. And that slow, deliberate movement was the most
frightening thing of all.

The first one touched by the hand of the Avenging Fire was
Edgar himself. The Inquisitor's face contorted, and several similar
crimson handprints showed up for a moment on his skin.

Apparently it was painful . . .

Gesar and Zabulon bore the touch stoically and, unless my eyes
deceived me, the numerous signs on their bodies were already
woven into a dense pattern.

One of the Inquisitors squealed.

Apparently it was very painful . . .

The spell touched me, and I realised I had been wrong. It wasn't
very painful. It was absolutely unbearable! It felt like I was being
branded with a red-hot steel beam – and not just branded, but
burned right through my body.

When the bloody mist cleared from in front of my eyes, I was
surprised to see that I was still standing – unlike two of the
Inquisitors.

'And they say giving birth is painful,' Svetlana said quietly as
she buttoned up her blouse. 'Ha . . .'

'Allow me to remind you that if the seal is activated, it will be
a lot more painful . . .' Edgar murmured. The Inquisitor had tears
in his eyes. 'It's for the common good.'

'Cut the idle chatter!' Zabulon interrupted him. 'Since you're
in charge now, try to behave appropriately.'

That was right, where was Witiezslav?

Had he flown back to Prague after all?

'Please follow me,' said Edgar. Still wincing, he walked towards
the wall.

Hiding places can be set up in various ways. From the crudest
– the magical camouflage of a safe in a wall – up to a secure vault
surrounded by powerful spells in the Twilight.

This hiding place was rather ingenious. For an instant, when
Edgar walked into the wall, a narrow slit that looked too small
for a man appeared in front of him. I immediately recalled this
cunning and complicated method, a combination of magical illusion
and the magic of displacement. Little sections of space –
narrow strips along the wall – are gathered from within a contained
space and magically combined into a single 'box-room'. It's a tricky
business and rather dangerous, but Edgar walked into the secret
space quite calmly.

'We won't all fit in,' Gesar muttered and squinted at the
Inquisitors. 'You've already been in there, I believe? Wait here.'

Concerned that I might be stopped too, I stepped forward –
and the wall obligingly parted in front of me. The defensive spells
had already been broken.

The box-room turned out not to be so tiny after all. It even
had a window, made in the same way – from strips 'cut' out of
the other windows. The view through the window had a truly
phantasmagorical appearance: a strip of forest, half a tree, a patch
of sky, all jumbled up together in total disorder.

But there was something else in the box-room far more worthy
of attention.

A good suit of close-textured grey cloth, a dandyish shirt –
white silk with lace at the collar and the cuffs – an elegant tie
in silver-grey with red flecks, and a pair of magnificent black
leather shoes with white socks hanging out of them. All these
things were lying on the floor in the middle of the box-room. I
was sure that inside the suit there had to be silk underwear with
hand-embroidered monograms.

But I didn't really feel any desire to root about amongst the
clothes of Higher Vampire Witiezslav. The homogeneous grey dust
that filled the suit and had spilled out around it was all that
remained of the inspector from the European Office of the
Inquisition.

Svetlana walked through into the box-room behind me, gasped
and grabbed hold of my hand. Gesar groaned, Zabulon sighed –
it even sounded sincere.

When Kostya came in last, he didn't make a sound. He just
stood there as if in a trance, gazing at the pitiful remains of his
fellow vampire.

'As you will, of course, understand,' Edgar began quietly, 'what
has happened is appalling enough in itself. A Higher Vampire has
been killed, quickly and with no signs of a struggle. I would assume
that this is beyond even the powers of the respected Higher
Magicians here present.'

'The Higher Magicians here present are not stupid enough to
attack an agent of the Inquisition,' Gesar commented in a grave
voice. 'However, if the Inquisition insists on verification . . .'

Edgar shook his head:

'No. I called you here precisely because I do not suspect you.
I think it makes sense to ask your advice before I inform the
European Office. After all, this is the territory of the Moscow
Watches.'

Zabulon squatted down by the remains, scooped up a little of
the dust in his hand, sniffed it and – I think – even touched his
tongue to it. He stood up with a sigh and muttered:

'Witiezslav . . . I can't imagine who could have destroyed him.
I would . . . I would have thought twice, no, three times, before
engaging him in combat. And you, colleague?'

He looked at Gesar. Gesar took his time answering, surveying
the dust with the enthusiasm of a young naturalist.

'Gesar?' Zabulon asked again.

'Yes, yes . . .' Gesar nodded. 'I could have done it. We actually
had . . . certain disagreements. But to do it so swiftly . . . and so
neatly . . .' Gesar shrugged and spread his hands. 'No, I couldn't
have managed that. Alas. It even makes me feel rather envious.'

'The seal,' I reminded him cautiously. 'At temporary registration
they apply a seal to vampires . . .'

Edgar looked at me as if I'd said something really stupid:

'But not to agents of the Inquisition.'

'And not to Higher Vampires!' Kostya added defiantly. 'The seal
is only applied to petty riff-raff who can't control themselves,
novice vampires and werewolves.'

'In fact, I've been meaning for a long time to raise the matter
of removing these discriminatory restrictions,' Zabulon put in. 'The
seal should not be applied to vampires and werewolves from the
second grade upwards, or, better still, from the third . . .'

'Why don't we do away with mutual registration at the place
of residence as well?' Gesar asked sarcastically.

'Stop arguing!' Edgar said with an unexpected note of authority
in his voice. 'Gorodetsky's ignorance is no excuse for holding a
debate! And apart from that, the termination of the vampire
Witiezslav's existence is not the most terrible thing about all this.'

'What could be more terrible than an Other who kills Higher
Others so effortlessly?' asked Zabulon.

'A book,' Edgar replied laconically. 'The
Fuaran
. The reason he
was killed.'

Z
ABULON GRINNED.
H
E
clearly didn't believe a single word of
what Edgar had just said.

Gesar seemed to be genuinely furious. It was hardly surprising.
First I'd nettled him about the
Fuaran
, and now an Inquisitor was
doing the same.

'My esteemed . . . European Inspector . . .' After a brief pause
Gesar launched into a speech that was only moderately sarcastic.
'I am no less fascinated by mythology than you are. Among witches,
stories about the
Fuaran
are very widespread, but we know perfectly
well that they are no more than an attempt to add lustre to the
reputation of their own . . . caste. There are exactly the same kind
of folktales in the culture of werewolves, vampires and various
kinds of Others who are fated to play a subordinate role in society.
But we have a real problem here, and wandering off into the
thickets of ancient superstition . . .'

Edgar interrupted him:

'I understand your point of view, Gesar. But the problem is that
two hours ago Witiezslav called me on his mobile. While he was
checking Arina's things, he stumbled across the secret room. Anyway
. . .Witiezslav was very excited. He said the
Fuaran
was lying in
the secret room, that it was genuine. I . . . must confess that I was
sceptical. Witiezslav was an excitable character.'

Gesar shook his head doubtfully.

'I didn't come straight away,' Edgar went on. 'Especially since
Witiezslav told me he was summoning Inquisition operatives from
the security cordon.'

'Was he afraid of something?' Zabulon asked curtly.

'Witiezslav? I don't think so, not anything specific. It's standard
procedure when an artefact of such great power is discovered. I
completed my round of the security posts and was actually talking
to Konstantin when our operatives reported that they had surrounded
the house but could not sense Witiezslav's presence. I ordered them
to enter – and they reported that there was no one inside. At that
point I . . .' Edgar hesitated '. . . felt rather puzzled. Why would
Witiezslav hide from his colleagues? I came as quickly as I could,
with Kostya. It took us about forty minutes – we didn't want to
go through the Twilight because we thought we might need all our
Power when we got here – and our agents were unable to put up
a reliable portal, there are too many magical artefacts here . . .'

'I see,' said Gesar. 'Go on.'

'There was a cordon round the house and two agents were on
guard inside. We entered the secret room together and discovered
Witiezslav's remains.'

'How long was Witiezslav left without protection?' Gesar asked,
still sounding sceptical, but with a new note of interest in his
voice.

'About an hour.'

'And for another forty minutes Inquisitors guarded his remains?
There are six of them, third- and fourth-grade.' Gesar frowned. 'A
powerful magician could have got through.'

'Unlikely,' said Edgar, shaking his head. 'Yes, they are third-and
fourth-grade; Roman is the only one who's just about
second-grade, but they're equipped with our guard amulets. Not
even a Great One could have got through.'

'Then the killer must have been here before they arrived?'

'Most probably,' Edgar confirmed.

'A magician powerful enough to kill a Higher Vampire swiftly
. . .' Gesar shook his head. 'I can only think of one candidate.'

'The witch,' Zabulon muttered. 'If she really did have the
Fuaran
,
she might have come back for it.'

'First she abandoned it, and then came back?' Svetlana exclaimed.
I realised she was trying to defend Arina. 'That's not logical!'

'Anton and I pursued her,' Edgar responded ingenuously. 'She
fled in a panic. Clearly she didn't make a run for it immediately,
as we assumed, but hid somewhere nearby. When Witiezslav found
the book she sensed it and became frantic.'

Gesar gave Svetlana and me a dark look, but said nothing.

'Perhaps Witiezslav died without any help?' Svetlana persisted.
'He found the book, tried to work some spell in it . . . and was
killed. There have been such cases.'

'Aha,' Zabulon said acidly, 'and in the meantime the book grew
legs and ran away.'

'I wouldn't even exclude that possibility,' said Gesar, standing
up for Svetlana. 'It could have sprouted legs, and it could have run
away.'

Silence fell, and in the silence Zabulon's scoffing laugh sounded
especially loud.

'Well, well! So we believe in the
Fuaran
?'

'I believe that someone killed a Higher Vampire with ease,' said
Gesar. 'And that someone is not frightened of the Watches or the
Inquisition. That very fact demands speedy and efficient investigation.
Don't you agree, colleague?'

Zabulon nodded reluctantly.

'If we accept even for one moment that the
Fuaran
really was
here . . .' Gesar shook his head. 'If all the rumours about this book
are true . . .'

Zabulon nodded again.

Both Great Magicians froze, looking at each other. Either they
were simply trying to stare each other down or, despite all the
defences around them, they were managing somehow to conduct
a magical conversation.

I walked over to the vampire's remains and squatted down.

A disagreeable sort. Disagreeable, even for a vampire.

But still one of us.

An Other.

Behind my back Edgar was burbling something about the need
to bring in fresh reinforcements, and how catching Arina had now
become a matter of vital importance. The witch was out of luck.
An old violation of the Treaty, even on a grand scale, was one
thing. Killing an Inquisitor was something else altogether.

All the facts stacked up against her. Who else was powerful
enough to take out a Higher Vampire?

But somehow I didn't believe Arina was guilty . . .

For some reason, I didn't find Witiezslav's remains disgusting at
all. Obviously there was nothing human left in him, not even a
trace of bone. Grey dust, like damp cigarette ash, maintaining its
form, but entirely homogeneous in structure. I touched something
that looked a bit like a clenched fist, and was not at all surprised
when the dust crumbled away, revealing a crumpled piece of paper.

'A note,' I said.

A deathly silence fell. Since there were no objections, I picked
up the piece of paper, straightened it out and read it. And only
then looked at the magicians.

They all looked so tense, it was as if they were expecting to
hear me say: 'Witiezslav wrote down the name of his killer before
he died . . . it was you!'

'Witiezslav didn't write this,' I said. 'It's Arina's writing, she wrote
an explanatory note . . .'

'Read it out,' Edgar ordered.

'Dear Inquisitors,' I read in a loud voice. 'If you are reading this,
it means that you are still pursuing issues from the past. I suggest
a peaceful settlement. You get the book you have been looking
for. I get a pardon.'

'So you were looking for it then?' Gesar asked in a very calm
voice.

'The Inquisition tries to locate all artefacts,' Edgar replied calmly.
'Including those considered mythological.'

'Would she have got her pardon?' Svetlana asked unexpectedly.

Edgar looked at her in annoyance, but he answered:

'If the
Fuaran
had been lying here? It's not my decision to make,
but the answer's probably yes. If it's the genuine
Fuaran
.'

'I'm inclined to think now that the book is the genuine article
. . .' Gesar said in a quiet voice. 'Edgar, I'd like to consult with my
colleagues.'

Edgar merely shrugged. The Inquisitor probably wasn't too keen
on being left alone with Zabulon and Kostya, but his expression
remained unchanged.

Svetlana and I followed Gesar.

The Inquisitors greeted us with suspicious glances, as if they
thought we'd killed all the Dark Ones in the secret room. But it
didn't bother Gesar.

'We're withdrawing for a conference,' he said casually, heading
for the door. The Inquisitors glanced at each other, but they didn't
argue – one of them just walked towards the secret room. But we
were already out of the witch's house.

It seemed as if morning hadn't arrived yet, here in the dense
heart of the forest. All around there was a mysterious semidarkness,
like the very first hour of dawn. I glanced up in surprise,
and saw that the sky really was unnaturally grey: it was like looking
through a pair of dark glasses. Apparently that was the manifestation
in our world of the magical defences erected by the Inquisitors.

'Everything's falling apart . . .' Gesar muttered. 'Things are really
bad . . .'

His gaze shifted rapidly from me to Svetlana and back. As if he
couldn't decide which of us he needed.

'Was the
Fuaran
really there?' Svetlana asked.

'It seems so. Evidently the book exists.' Gesar pulled a wry face.
'This is bad, really bad . . .'

'We'll have to find the witch,' said Svetlana. 'If you want . . .'

Gesar shook his head. 'No, I don't want. Arina has to get away.'

'I understand,' I said, taking Svetlana by the hand. 'If they catch
Arina, she might confess who that Light One was . . .'

'Arina doesn't know who that Light One was,' said Gesar, interrupting
me. 'That Light One came to her in a mask. She can
suspect and surmise, she might even be certain – but she doesn't
have a single fact. It's something else that's worrying me . . .'

That was when I understood.

'The
Fuaran
?'

'Yes. That's why I ask you . . .'

Before he could finish, I hurriedly put in:

'We don't know where Arina is. Do we, Sveta?'

Svetlana frowned, but she shook her head in agreement.

'Thank you,' said Gesar. 'That's the first thing. Now for the
second. We have to find the
Fuaran
. At any cost. They'll probably
put a search party together. I want Anton to be our representative.'

'I'm more powerful,' Svetlana said quietly.

'That makes no difference at all.' Gesar shook his head. 'Not a
scrap. I'll be needing you here, Svetlana.'

'What for?' she asked cautiously.

Gesar hesitated for a second. Then he said:

'To initiate Nadya if we should need to.'

'You're out of your mind,' Svetlana said in an icy voice. 'There's
no way she can become an Other at her age and with her Power!'

'It might turn out that we have no other choice,' Gesar muttered.
'Svetlana, it's up to you. All I ask is that you stay with the child.'

'Don't worry about that,' Svetlana snapped. 'I won't take my
eyes off her.'

'That's fine, then.' Gesar smiled and walked towards the door.
'Do come and join us, our Council at Fili is about to start.'

The moment the door closed behind him, Svetlana swung
round to face me and demanded:

'Do you understand any of this?'

I nodded, and replied:

'Gesar was unable to find his own son. He really was just an
ordinary human being. He only became an Other just recently.'

'Arina?'

'Looks like it. She emerged from hibernation and took a look
around. Found out who was at the top . . .'

'And used the
Fuaran
to give Gesar a little secret present? She
turned his son into an Other?' Svetlana shook her head. 'It makes
no sense, why would she do that? They're not that close, surely?'

'But now Gesar will do everything possible to make sure they
don't find Arina. She took out an insurance policy'

Svetlana screwed up her eyes and nodded.

'But listen, what about the Day Watch . . .'

'How do we know what she did for Zabulon?' I shrugged.
'Somehow I get the feeling the Day Watch won't go to any great
lengths in looking for the witch either.'

'What a cunning old hag!' Svetlana said, without malice. 'I was
wrong to think so little of witches. Did you understand that about
Nadya?'

'No.'

What Gesar had said made simply no sense. Sometimes Other
children were initiated at the age of five or six, but never any
earlier than that. A child who has acquired the abilities of an Other
but is unable to control them properly is a walking bomb. Especially
an Other as powerful as Nadiushka. Even Gesar himself would be
unable to stop our little girl if she got overexcited and started
using her Power.

No, I had no idea what Gesar had meant.

'I'll pull his legs off and put them where his arms used to be,'
Svetlana promised in a perfectly calm voice, 'if he even hints that
we have to initiate Nadya. All right, shall we go?'

We linked arms – really wanting to feel close to each other at
that moment – and went back into the house.

The Inquisitors whom chance had chosen to involve in the secret
had been put back in the security cordon round the house, and
the other six of us were sitting round the table.

Gesar was drinking tea that he'd made himself, by taking the
witch's brew and adding herbs from her abundant reserves. I took
a cup too. The tea smelled of mint and juniper, it was bitter and
spicy, but bracing. No one else was tempted to drink it – Svetlana
politely took a sip and put her cup down.

The note was lying on the table.

'Twenty-two or twenty-three hours ago,' said Zabulon, looking
at the piece of paper. 'She wrote the note before your visit,
Inquisitor.'

Edgar nodded and added reluctantly:

'Possibly . . . or just possibly, during our visit. It was hard for
us, pursuing her in the depths of the Twilight – she would have
had quite enough time to gather her wits and write a note.'

'Then we have no grounds for suspecting the witch,' Zabulon
muttered. 'She left the book in order to buy off her pursuers. She
had no reason to come back for it and kill the Inquisitor.'