The Dark Magician stopped dead in his tracks. He slowly turned around and passed his hand over his face—for a moment it was distorted; the skin was replaced by dull scales and the eyes became narrow slits.
Then the illusion disappeared.
«Yes. Of course you've seen it,» said Zabulon, in his human form once again. «And I have seen you. And permit me to state that you were no white angel with a gleaming sword. Everything depends on your point of view. Goodbye, Anton. Believe me, I shall be glad to eliminate you at some later time. But for now I wish you good luck. From the depths of the soul that I don't have.»
The door slammed behind him.
And immediately, as if it had just woken up, the sentry system howled out of the Twilight. The mask of Chkhoen on the wall twisted into a ferocious scowl, with fury glinting in the wooden slits of its eyes.
My security guards…
I silenced the system with two passes and hurled the «freeze» that I'd prepared at the mask. The spell had come in useful after all.
«A little piece of chalk,» I said.
I'd heard something like that before. But it was a very long time ago, and I hadn't really been paying attention. It could have been a few phrases thrown out by one of my tutors at a lecture, or idle social gossip, or a student myth. But there definitely was something about a piece of chalk…
I got up off the couch, raised my hand in the air, and threw the amulet onto the floor.
«Gesar!» I called through the twilight. «Gesar, answer me!»
My shadow shot up toward me from the floor, grabbed hold of my body, and sucked me into itself. The light dimmed, the room swayed, the outlines of the furniture blurred. It was suddenly unbearably quiet. The heat had receded. I stood there with my arms thrown out wide as the greedy Twilight drank my power.
«Gesar, by your name I summon you!»
Threads of gray mist drifted through the room. I didn't give a damn who else might be able to hear me shouting.
«Gesar, my mentor, I call on you—will you answer?»
Far away in the distance an invisible shadow sighed.
«I hear you, Anton.»
«Answer me!»
«What question do you want answered?»
«Zabulon—did he lie to me?»
«No.»
«Gesar, stop!»
«It's too late, Anton. Everything's going the way it's supposed to go. Trust me.»
«Gesar, stop!»
«You have no right to make any demands.»
«No right! If we are part of the Light, if we do Good, then I have every right!»
The boss didn't answer right away. I even thought he'd decided not to say anything else to me.
«All right. I'll be waiting for you in an hour at the Para Bar.»
«Where?»
«The Parachutists' Bar. Near the Turgenevskaya metro station, behind the old central post office.»
Then there was silence.
I took a step backward, out of the Twilight. It was an odd sort of place to meet. Was that where Gesar had had his showdown with the Day Watch? No, that was in some restaurant or other.
Oh, well, what did it matter—the Para Bar, Rosie O'Grady's, even the Chance Club. It wasn't important. Who cared?
But there was one other thing I had to find out before I met Gesar.
I took out my cell phone and dialed Svetlana's number. She answered immediately.
«Hi,» I said simply. «Are you at the summerhouse?»
«No.» She seemed startled by my brisk, businesslike tone. «I'm on my way into town.»
«Who with?»
She paused.
«With Ignat.»
«Good,» I said, quite sincerely. «Listen, do you know anything about chalk?»
«About what?»
This time the puzzlement was obvious.
«About the magical properties of chalk. Have they taught you anything about its uses in magic?»
«No, Anton. Are you sure you're all right?»
«I'm better than that.»
«Has something happened?»
The eternal female habit of asking every question in two or three different ways.
«Nothing special.»
«Do you want me…« She hesitated. «Do you want me to ask Olya?»
«Is she there with you as well?»
«Yes, the three of us are coming back to town together.»
«I don't think so. Thanks.»
«Anton…«
«What, Sveta?»
I walked over to the desk and opened the drawer with all my magical junk. I looked at the dull crystals, at the clumsily carved magic wand from the time when I still wanted to be a combat magician. I pushed the drawer back in.
«Forgive me.»
«There's nothing you need to be forgiven for.»
«Can I come around to your place?»
«How far away are you?»
«Halfway there.»
I shook my head and answered:
«It won't fit. I've got an important meeting. I'll call you back later.»
I cut off the call and smiled. Very often the truth can be malicious and false. For instance, when you tell only half the truth. Like telling someone you don't want to talk without explaining why.
Permit me to do Good through Evil. I don't have any other way right now.
Just to be sure I walked around the apartment, looking into the bedroom, the bathroom, and the kitchen. As far as I was able to tell, Zabulon really hadn't left any «presents» behind him.
I went back into the study, switched on my computer, and inserted the disk with the general database on magic. Typed in the password. Typed in the word «chalk.»
I hadn't been expecting anything special to come up. What I wanted to know could easily require such a high security clearance that it had never been included in any databases.
There were three entries for the word «chalk.»
The first was a reference to a chalk quarry where a first-grade Light Magician and a first-grade Dark Magician fought a duel in the fifteenth century. Both of them died of simple exhaustion of their powers—they didn't have enough strength left to emerge from the Twilight at the end of the duel. During the following five hundred years almost three thousand people had died at the site of the duel.
The second entry referred to the use of chalk for drawing magical symbols and protective circles. There was a lot more information here, and I read through it all quickly. There was nothing of interest. Using chalk had no particular advantages over charcoal, pencil, blood, or oil paint. Except maybe that it was easier to erase.
The third reference came in the section «Myths and Unconfirmed Data.» Of course, this section was full of rubbish like the use of silver and garlic in fighting vampires and descriptions of non-existent ceremonies and rituals.
But I'd come across cases before when genuine information had been completely forgotten and hidden away among the myths.
And then chalk was mentioned in the article «The Books of Fate.»
I read halfway through it and realized I'd hit the bull's-eye. The information was just lying there in full view, accessible to any novice magician—it might even be available in sources that were open to ordinary people.
The Books of Fate. Chalk.
It all fit.
I closed the file and switched off the laptop. Then I sat there for a while, chewing things over. Then I looked at the clock.
It was almost time for me to set out for my strange rendezvous with Gesar.
I took a shower and changed my clothes. I took three amulets with me—Zabulon's medallion, the Night Watch badge, and a combat disc Ilya had given to me—an ancient round piece of bronze a bit bigger than a five-ruble coin. I'd never used the disc before. Ilya had told me the amulet had only one charge left—maybe two at most.
I took my pistol out of its hiding place and checked the clip. Explosive silver bullets. Good against werewolves, of doubtful use against vampires, totally effective against Dark Magicians.