Сергей Лукьяненко - Day Watch

The medicine woman held the little bottle out to her.

"Take it."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, that's it. You get your husband to drink it. Can you manage that? You can put it in tea, or even in vodka-but that's not the best way."

"But where's the… spell?"

"What spell?"

Natasha felt like a fool again. Her voice almost broke into a shout as she said, "This is a drop of my blood, a drop of vodka, sugar, salt, and vanilla!"

"And water," Darya added. She put her hands on her hips and looked at Natasha ironically. "What did you expect? Dried eye of toad? Oriole's testicles? Or for me to blow my nose in it? What do you want-ingredients or effect?"

Natasha didn't answer. She was overwhelmed by this attack. And Darya continued, no longer trying to conceal her mockery: "My darling girl, if I'd wanted to impress you, then I would have done so. Have no doubt about it. What matters is not what's in the bottle, but who made it. Don't you worry, go home and give it to your husband. Will he be calling round again?"

"Yes… in the evening," she mumbled, "he phoned to say he'd come and collect a few things…"

"Let him collect them, only you give him some tea. Tomorrow he'll bring the things back again. That is, if you let him in, of course." Darya laughed. "All right then… And there's one more thing to do. Do you take this sin on yourself?"

"I do." Natasha suddenly realized that she no longer felt completely justified in laughing at what she had said. There was something here that wasn't funny. The seer had made her promise far too seriously. And if her husband did come back tomorrow… "Your word, my deed…" Darya slowly parted her hands and started speaking rapidly: "Red water, others' grief and rotten seed and evil breed… What was is no more, what was not will not be… Return to the void, you are dissolved without trace, by my will, at my word…"

Her voice fell to an incoherent whisper. She moved her lips for a minute. Then she clapped her hands hard.

It must have been a trick of the imagination-Natasha thought she felt a gust of icy cold wind blow through the kitchen. Her heart started pounding; she felt a shiver run down her spine.

Darya gave her head a shake, looked at Natasha, and nodded: "That's all. Go now, my dear. Go home, my daughter, and wait for your husband."

Natasha got up. She asked, "But what… when do I…"

"When you get pregnant, you'll remember about me yourself. I'll wait for three months… and then if I'm still waiting-don't blame me…"

Natasha nodded. She swallowed hard to keep down the lump that had risen in her throat. Somehow she now believed completely in everything the seer had promised… and at the same time, it was painfully clear to her that in three months' time, if everything really did work out, she would be painfully reluctant to give the money away. She would be tempted to put it all down to coincidence… why should she give this filthy charlatan five thousand dollars?

And yet she realized that she would. She might drag it out until the final day, but she would bring it.

Because she would remember the gentle clap of those un-manicured hands and that wave of cold that had suddenly spread through the kitchen.

"Go now," the seer repeated with gentle insistence. "I still have to cook supper and clean up the apartment. Go on, go on…"

Natasha went out into the dark hallway, took off the slippers with a sigh of relief, and put on her shoes. Her pantyhose seemed to have survived the ordeal… that was certainly more than she'd dared to hope for…

She looked at the seer and tried to find the right words to say. Should she thank her? Ask her about some details? Maybe even joke-if only she could manage it, of course…

But Darya had forgotten her completely. The seer's eyes were open wide and she was staring straight at the closed door, feebly waving her hands through the air in front of her as she whispered:

"Who… who… who?"

The next moment the door behind Natasha opened with a sudden crash and the hall was instantly full of people. Two men were holding the seer firmly by the arms and another had walked quickly into the kitchen without looking around first-he obviously knew the layout of the apartment very well. A young, black-haired girl had appeared beside Natasha. All the men were dressed in a simple and somehow deliberately inconspicuous manner: the same kind of shorts and T-shirts that ninety percent of the male population of Moscow was wearing in this incredible heat. Natasha suddenly had the frightening thought that their clothes were something like the unobtrusive gray suits that special service agents wore.

"That's terrible," the girl said, looking at Natasha and shaking her head. "How disgusting, Natalya Alexeevna."

Unlike the men, she was dressed in dark jeans and a denim jacket. She had a sparkling pendant on a silver chain around her neck and several massive silver rings on her fingers-fancy, complicated rings with dragons' heads and tigers' heads, intertwined snakes and patterns that looked like the letters of a strange, mysterious alphabet.

"What do you mean…" Natasha asked in a cheerless voice.

Instead of answering, the girl unzipped Natasha's purse and took out the little bottle. She held it up in front of Natasha's eyes, and then she shook her head again in reproach.

"Got it!" shouted the young man who had gone into the kitchen. "It's all here, guys."

One of the men holding the seer by the arms sighed and said in an oddly bored-sounding voice, "Darya Leonidovna Romashova! In the name of the Night Watch, you are under arrest."

"What watch?" There was a note of obvious puzzlement, mingled with panic, in the seer's voice. "Who are you?"

"You have the right to reply to our questions," the young man went on. "Any magical action from your side will be regarded as hostile and punished without any warning. You have the right to request the settlement of your human obligations. You are accused of… Garik?"

The young man who had gone into the kitchen came back out. As if she were dreaming, Natasha noticed that he had an intellectual, thoughtful, rather sad kind of face. She had always liked men like that…

"I suppose it's the usual set," said Garik. "The illegal practice of black magic. Third or fourth degree intervention in the consciousness of other individuals. Murder, tax evasion-but the last one's not for us. That's for the Dark Ones."

"You are accused of the illegal practice of black magic, intervention in the consciousness of others, and murder," the man holding Darya repeated. "You will come with us."

The seer gave a long, piercing, terrifying scream. Natasha involuntarily glanced at the open door. Of course, it would be naive to hope that the neighbors would come running to help, but they could call the police, couldn't they?

The strange visitors didn't react to the scream. The girl only frowned and nodded in Natasha's direction: "What shall we do with her?"

"Confiscate the potion and wipe her memory clean." Garik looked at Natasha without a trace of sympathy. "Let her believe there was no one in the apartment when she got here."

"And that's all?" The girl took a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and lit one without hurrying.

"Katya, what other choice is there? She's a human being- how can we do anything with her?"

This wasn't even frightening anymore. It was a dream, a nightmare… and Natasha reacted as such. She grabbed the precious bottle out of the girl's hand with a sudden movement and dashed toward the door.

She was flung back as if she had run into an invisible wall. Natasha shrieked as she fell at the seer's feet; the bottle went flying out of her hand and shattered against the wall with surprising ease. A tiny patch of sticky, colorless liquid appeared on the linoleum.