Сергей Лукьяненко - Day Watch

Anton put a thick pile of letters on the table. There was just one name on each envelope-the name of the person who had written the letter.

"These are from all our gang. Olga said you had to read her letter first. But Yulia and Lena said the same thing. So you choose for yourself…"

Igor looked at the letters thoughtfully and nodded. "I'll throw a dice. All right, get out the rest. I don't mean the letters."

Anton smiled as he took a bottle wrapped in paper out of a plastic bag.

"Smirnoff No. 21," said Igor. "Right?"

"Right."

"I knew it. Carry on."

Anton carried on, smiling in embarrassment as he took out a small loaf of Borodinsky black bread, a stick of salami, salted cucumbers in a polythene vacuum pack, several purple Yalta onions, and a piece of pork fat.

"Why, you devils," said Igor, shaking his head. "Everything the way I like it. Semyon advised you, did he?"

"Yes."

"The customs officers must have thought you were insane."

"I made them look the other way. I'm on official business- so I have the right."

"I see. Okay, I'll just get everything ready. And you tell me what's been going on back there. I've been kept informed… but it's better coming from you. About Andrei, about Tiger Cub… about that whole damn mess."

While Igor was making the snacks, rinsing the glasses and drying them carefully, and opening the bottle, Anton told him in brief about the recent events in Moscow.

Igor poured vodka into four glasses without speaking. He covered two with slices of bread, set one in front of Anton, and took the last one himself.

"For the guys," he said. "May the Light show them compassion. For Tiger Cub… for Andriukha."

They drank without clinking glasses, and Anton looked at Igor curiously. Igor began coughing and looked at his glass, perplexed.

"Anton… wait… this vodka's fake!"

"Of course!" Anton confirmed happily. "Absolutely genuine fake vodka-pure alcohol diluted with tap water. I chose it specially. You wouldn't believe how hard it is nowadays to buy fake vodka in the shops!"

"But why?" Igor exclaimed.

"What do you mean, why? Why did I bring you Borodinsky bread? I could have bought a loaf of fresh, tasty black bread in any shop in Prague! And the salami too, and the pork fat. The onions would have been the only problem…"

"So this is a greeting from the motherland, is it?" said Igor, still wincing.

"Precisely."

"Oh no… I want to greet my last morning without a headache," Igor said seriously. He frowned and passed his hand above the bottle and the two full glasses. The liquid glimmered a lemon-yellow color for a moment. Igor explained in a slightly guilty voice: "I'm allowed to use lower magic."

"Then pour another glass."

"Are you in some kind of a hurry?" Igor asked, squinting at Anton as he poured the transformed vodka.

"No, where would I be going?" Anton replied. "I'd rather sit here with you and have a chat. Do you know why I changed the bottle?"

"So you're the perpetrator?"

"Yes, it was me. Semyon brought the real thing. But I wanted to remind you that a beautiful bottle doesn't always contain good stuff."

Igor sighed and his face went dark: "Gorodetsky… don't moralize with me. I was in the Watch before you were even born. I understand everything. But it's my own fault, and I'll take my punishment."

"No, you don't understand a thing," Anton shouted angrily. "You adopt this grand pose of yours: 'It's my fault, I'll take what's coming to me," he said, mimicking Igor. "But what are we supposed to do? Especially now, without Tiger Cub and Andrei? You know that Gesar's decided to give the girls who do the programming intensive training?"

"Oh, come on, Anton! There aren't any irreplaceable Others. The Moscow Watch has hundreds of magicians and enchantresses in its reserve!"

"Yes, of course. And if we whistle, they'll come running. Leave their families, drop their jobs and their usual concerns. They'll take up arms, of course they will. If the active members of the Watch have disgraced themselves and given up…"

Igor sighed and began speaking abruptly and energetically, almost like the old operational agent: "Anton, I understand all this. You're a bright guy, and you're doing the right thing now by making me angry. You're trying to inspire me with the will to live. You're trying to persuade me to fight… But understand one thing-I really don't want to fight! I really think I am guilty. I really have decided to… withdraw. Into nothingness, into the Twilight."

"Why, Igor? I understand that anyone's death is always a tragedy, especially if it's your fault, but you couldn't have foreseen…"

Igor looked up at him with eyes full of pain and shook his head. "No, Antoshka. It's you who doesn't understand a single thing. Do you think I'm punishing myself because that kid drowned? No."

Anton picked up his glass and drained it in a single gulp.

"I feel sorry for the boy," Igor went on. "Very sorry. But I've seen all sorts of things in my time… there have been times before when people died. And it was my fault. Children, women, old men. Have you ever, for instance, had to decide who to run to first, who to save-an uninitiated Other or an ordinary person? I have. Have you ever had to draw all the Power from a crowd-drain it completely? Knowing there's a ninety percent probability two people in the crowd won't be able to bear it and they'll kill themselves? I have."

"I've had to do a few things too, Igor."

"Yes, I understand. That hurricane… Then why are you talking such nonsense? Can't you believe it's not all about that unfortunate kid? That I fell in love with a Dark One?"

"I can't," said Anton. "I just can't! Gesar said that too, but…"

"You'd better believe Gesar," Igor said with a bitter smile. "I love her, Anton. I still love her, even now. And I'll go on loving her-that's the real tragedy."

He picked up his glass.

"Thanks at least for not setting a glass out for her on the table…" Anton could feel the fury beginning to seethe inside him. "Thanks…"

He broke off and followed Igor's glance to the glass-fronted cupboard, where there was a glass half-filled with vodka and covered with a stale piece of bread standing among the other glasses.

"You've lost your mind," Anton muttered. "Completely lost your mind! Remember, Igor-she's a witch!"

"She was a witch," Igor agreed with a faint, sad smile.

"She provoked you… okay, she didn't enchant you, but she still made you fall in love with her."

"No. She fell in love herself. And she didn't have the slightest idea who I was."

"Okay. Let's accept that, you ought to know. But even so, it was provocation. By Zabulon, who knew everything that was happening…"

Igor nodded. "Yes, very probably. I've thought about that a lot, Anton. That fight in Butovo was obviously prepared well in advance by the Dark Ones. At the very highest level, just Zabulon and another one or two Dark Ones. Lemesheva probably knew. Edgar and the witches didn't."

He didn't even think it worth mentioning the vampires and shape-shifters.

"Well, if you agree…" Anton began.

"Wait. Yes, it was a deliberately planned operation. One of Zabulon's intrigues. And a successful one…" Igor lowered his head. "Only what difference does that make to the way I feel about Alisa?"

Anton felt like swearing angrily. So he did, and then he said, "Igor, you've looked at Alisa Donnikova's file. You must have looked at it!"

"Yes."

"So you must understand how much blood she has on her hands! How much evil she has done? I've clashed with her myself several times! She's been responsible for ruining our operations, she… she served Zabulon loyally…"

"You forgot to add that she was Zabulon's broad," Igor said in a dull, lifeless voice. "That the head of Moscow's Dark Ones enjoyed having sex with her in his Twilight form, that she took part in covens when there were human sacrifices and in group orgies. Why don't you say it? Say it, I know it all anyway. Gesar gave me the full file… he tried really hard. I know all that."