Сергей Лукьяненко - Day Watch

And he had expended all that tremendous Power on himself.

Remoralization. The search for the ethically optimum solution. The Light Ones' most terrible problem was how to avoid causing harm, how to avoid taking a step that would result in inflicting evil on human beings.

"That makes him a super-egotist!" Pavel said with relish. "He could have defended his girlfriend, couldn't he? And he could have fought us, couldn't he? And how-with that Power! But what did he do? He used everything he collected on himself. He didn't even try to stop the hurricane… but he could have done that, he could have!"

"Who knows what any other course of action would have led to?" I asked.

"But he acted just like any of us. Like a genuine Dark One!"

"If that were true, he'd be in the Day Watch."

"And he will be," Pavel said confidently. "Where else can he go? He couldn't bear to give away all that Power, so he used it on himself. And afterward he made excuses-it was all so that he could make the correct decision… And what was his decision? Not to interfere! That was all-not to interfere! That's our way, the Dark way."

"I'm not going to argue with you, Pavlusha," I said.

The plane shuddered as the undercarriage was lowered.

At first glance the shape-shifter seemed to be right. But I could remember Zabulon's face during the days after the hurricane. The expression in his eyes was very gloomy-I'd learned to tell the difference. It was as if he'd realized too late that he'd been tricked.

Pavel carried on discussing the subtleties of the struggle between the two Watches, their different approaches, their long-term operational planning. What a strategist… he should have been sitting in headquarters, not roaming the streets…

I suddenly realized how tired he'd made me feel during our two-hour flight. But at first he'd made quite a pleasant impression…

"Pavlusha, who do you transform into?" I asked.

The shape-shifter started breathing heavily through his nose and answered reluctantly: "A lizard."

"Oho!" I looked at him again with more interest. Shape-shifters like that were a genuine rarity; he was no ordinary werewolf, like the late Vitalik. "That's serious! But why don't I see you on operations more often?"

"I…" Pavel stopped and frowned. He took out a handkerchief and dabbed his sweaty forehead. "You see, the thing is…"

His embarrassment was wonderful to watch. He was like an erring schoolgirl on a visit to the gynecologist.

"I transform into a herbivorous lizard," he finally blurted out. "Not the most useful kind in a fight, unfortunately. The jaws are strong, but the teeth are flat, for grinding. And I'm too slow. But I can break an arm or a leg… or chew off a finger."

I couldn't help laughing. I said sympathetically, "Well, never mind. We need personnel like that too! The important thing is for you to look impressive and instill fear and confusion."

"I look impressive all right," said Pavel, squinting sideways at me suspiciously. "Only my scales are too colorful, like a painted Khokhloma toy. It's hard to disguise myself."

I managed to keep a straight face.

"Never mind, I think that's interesting. When people have to be frightened, especially little children, colorful scales are just the thing."

"That's the kind of work I usually do…" Pavel admitted.

A sharp jolt cut short our conversation as the plane touched down on the runway. The passengers burst into applause somewhat prematurely. I gazed avidly out through the window for a few seconds, looking at the greenery, the airport terminal, a plane taxiing to take off…

I simply couldn't believe it.

I'd escaped from stuffy, oppressive Moscow. I had the vacation I'd been waiting for so long… and my special rights… and when I got back-Zabulon would be waiting for me again…

Pavel saw me as far as the trolley stop. It's the most amusing trolley route I know: all the way from one town to another, from Simferopol to Yalta. But strangely enough, it's quite a convenient way to travel.

Everything here was different, quite different. It seemed hot- but it wasn't the asphalt-and-concrete city heat of Moscow. And even though the sea was a long way off, I could sense it. And the luxuriant greenery, and the whole atmosphere of a huge resort at the height of the season.

It felt good… it really did. I just wanted to get a shower as soon as possible, get a good night's sleep, tidy myself up…

"You're not going to Yalta, are you?" Pavel asked understandingly.

"Not exactly to Yalta," I said. I looked gloomily at the long line. Even the children were all keyed up, ready to grab a seat in the trolley. I had nothing with me at all-just my purse and the sports bag over my shoulder, and I could have stood quite easily-but only if I managed to get on the trolley without a ticket.

And I didn't feel like standing.

If it came down to it, I had a thick wad of cash for my travel allowance, vacation allowance, and medical allowance-Zabulon had managed to issue me almost two thousand dollars. That was certainly plenty for two weeks. Especially in Ukraine.

"All right, Pavlusha," I said and kissed him on the cheek. The shape-shifter blushed. "I'll get there, no need to see me off."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I was instructed to give you every possible help."

Oh, my little protector… A herbivorous lizard, a cow with scales …

"I'm sure. You need to get some rest too."

"I'm going to go on a bicycle trip with friends," he informed me for some reason. "They're really nice guys-Ukrainian werewolves and even a young magician. Maybe we could call in to see you?"

"I'd like that."

The shape-shifter walked back toward the airport, clearly in-tending to board another flight, and I set off along the thin line of taxis and private cars offering lifts. It was already getting dark, and there were only a few of them left.

"Where to, lovely lady?" a stout man with a moustache called out. He was standing beside his little Zhiguli and smoking. I shook my head-I'd never traveled between towns in a Zhiguli… I ignored the Volga as well, and the tiny Oka too- goodness only knew what that driver was hoping for.

But that brand new Nissan Patrol would suit me very well.

I leaned in over the lowered window. There were two dark-haired young guys sitting in the car. The one in the driving seat was smoking and his companion was drinking beer from a bottle.

"Are you guys free?"

Two pairs of eyes stared at me, sizing me up. I didn't look too creditworthy-that was necessary for my cover…

"Possibly," the driver said. "If we can agree on a price."

"We can," I said. "To the Artek camp. Fifty."

"Are you a Young Pioneer?" the driver laughed. "For fifty we'll give you a ride round town."

The witty type. He was so young he shouldn't have been able to remember what a Young Pioneer was. And his ambitions were exorbitant… fifty rubles-that was almost ten dollars.

"You didn't ask the most important thing," I remarked. "Fifty what?"

"Well, fifty what?" the driver's friend repeated obligingly.

"Bucks."

The young guys' expressions changed immediately.

"Fifty bucks, we go fast, without any other passengers, and we don't turn the music up loud," I added. "Is it a deal?"

"Yes," the driver decided. He began looking around. "What about your things?"

"I've got them all here." I got into the backseat and dropped my bag down beside me. "Let's go."

My tone of voice seemed to have had the right effect. A minute later we were already swinging out onto the road. I relaxed and leaned back a bit more comfortably. This was it. Vacation. I needed to rest… eat the peaches… gather my strength…

And afterward Moscow and Zabulon would be waiting for me…