‘Hello, Lera,’ I said politely. I wasn’t exactly looking super-respectable, just shorts and a T-shirt, but I still chose the ‘representative-of-the-authorities’ tone of voice. ‘Can I come in?’
‘Why not?’ Lera asked in surprise. ‘Come …’ She hiccupped. ‘Come on through. Only … I’ll just be a moment.’
She went into the bathroom without even bothering to lock the door behind her. I shook my head, walked past the unmade bed and sat in an armchair by the window. It was a small room, quite comfortable in a formal sort of way. There was a bottle of Glenlivet whisky on the coffee table. It was more than half empty. Glancing at the door of the bathroom I sent a simple spell in Lera’s direction.
I heard the sound of coughing in the bathroom.
‘Need any help, Lera?’ I asked, pouring myself two fingers of whisky.
Lera didn’t answer. She was being sick.
I found some cold mineral water in the mini-bar and rinsed out Lera’s glass – it smelled strongly of whisky. Then I poured in a little bit of water and splashed it out straight on to the carpet. And then I poured in more water.
‘I’m sorry …’ said the girl, as she emerged from the bathroom, looking a lot livelier. ‘I … I’m sorry.’
‘Have a drink of water, Lera,’ I said, holding out the glass.
A good-looking girl. Very young. And with very sad eyes.
‘Who are you?’ she asked and drained the glass avidly. ‘Hell – my head’s splitting.’
She sat down in the other armchair and took her head in her hands.
We’d never be able to make conversation like that.
‘Can I help?’
‘Do you have any aspirin? Something for a headache …’
‘Ancient Chinese massage,’ I said, standing up and going round behind her. ‘The pain will soon be gone.’
‘Oh sure, I believe in massage, all the guys say they can do massage, anything to get their paws on you …’ Lera began, and then stopped talking the moment my hands started taking away the pain.
Of course, I don’t really know how to do massage. But I can disguise healing magic as massage.
‘That’s really good … you’re a magician …’ Lera murmured.
‘Yes, I am,’ I agreed. ‘A fully qualified Light Magician.’
Right… stop the blood vessels cramping … draw the alcohol out of the blood … okay, pass it through the kidneys… neutralise the metabolites… balance the serotonin and adrenalin … restore the pH of the blood to normal… okay, and at the same time we’ll reduce the output of hydrochloric acid in the blood …
Of course, I’m nowhere near as good as Svetlana. She could have done all this with a single touch. I laboured away for about three minutes. I had the Power, but I lacked the skill.
‘Miracles like that don’t happen,’ Valeria said nervously. She turned round and looked at me.
‘Oh yes, they do,’ I said. ‘You’ll want to go to the toilet now. Don’t be embarrassed and don’t wait, you’ll pass water every fifteen minutes. Until you get all the garbage out of your system … Stop. Wait a moment…’
I looked at her closely. Well, would you believe it…
‘Don’t drink any more,’ I told her. ‘Not at all.’
I went to the bathroom to wash my hands. The running water carried away the fatigue from my fingers and the imprint of an aura distorted by suffering. I could have used Power to clean myself, but the old folk methods are still the best.
‘Why are you ordering me about?’ Lera said darkly when I got back. ‘But thank you, the massage was good … I’ll just be a moment!’
I waited for her to come back from the toilet, clearly shocked by the speed and efficiency with which her organism was being purged. Once she had sat down, I explained.
‘You’re pregnant. You shouldn’t drink now.’
‘My period is due to start tomorrow,’ Lera retorted so furiously that I realised she could sense it. Through sheer feminine intuition, without any outside help, she had realised she was pregnant. Then she had rejected the idea and started binge-drinking.
‘It won’t start.’
She didn’t argue. She didn’t even ask how I knew. Probably she put it down to the wonders of oriental medicine. She asked:
‘Why would I want a child without a husband?’
‘That’s for you to decide,’ I said. ‘I’m not going to try to persuade you either way.’
‘Who are you?’ Lera finally asked.
‘Gorodetsky Anton Gorodetsky I’m from Moscow. I … I was asked to investigate the circumstances of Victor’s death.’
Lera sighed and said bitterly:
‘Vitya’s father using his contacts… What’s the point now …’
‘To find out the truth.’
‘The truth …’ The girl poured herself some water and drained the glass in one. Her body was driving her blood through her kidneys at a furious rate, removing the alcohol and its metabolic products. ‘Victor was killed by a vampire.’
‘Vampires don’t exist, Lera.’
‘I know. But what do you do when a guy says “There’s someone drinking my blood,” and then they find him with a bite mark on his throat and no blood left in his body?’
There was a subtle note of hysteria in her voice.
‘I checked the channel that the boat was sailing in,’ I said. ‘There’s blood in it. A lot of blood. Calm down, Lera. Vampires really don’t exist. Someone killed your friend. He bled to death. That’s terrible, it’s cruel, but vampires don’t exist.’
She said nothing for about a minute. Then she asked:
‘Why didn’t the police tell me that?’
‘They have their reasons. They’re afraid of leaks of information. Perhaps they even suspect you of something.’
That didn’t frighten her at all – in fact, it seemed to make her angry.
‘The bastards. I can’t get to sleep, I get sloshed on whisky in the evenings. Yesterday I almost dragged some guy into bed … I’m afraid to be alone, understand? Afraid. And they don’t tell me anything … Excuse me, I’ll just be a moment.’
I waited for her to come back from the toilet, then said:
‘I must have overdone it a bit with the massage. But I’m not a professional, I’ve just picked up a few moves.’
‘The things they teach your crowd,’ Lera said, and I realised she was as certain that I worked for the KGB as the young Frenchman in the Dungeons had been. We’re all children of mass culture. We all believe in its clichés. You don’t even need any documents if you behave like a secret agent in an action movie.
‘Lera, I want to ask you to make an effort to recall all the circumstances of Victor’s death,’ I said. ‘I know you’ve said it all over and over again. But please try.’
‘We got into that stupid boat,’ Lera began. ‘I almost fell over, it was a very awkward step down, a long way, and I couldn’t see the bottom of the boat in the darkness.’
‘Tell me everything from the very beginning. Start from the moment when you got up that morning. Every detail.’
Lera’s eyes glinted mischievously.
‘Well… we woke up at ten, we missed breakfast. Then we had sex. Then we went into the shower, and we got a bit carried away in there …’
I nodded and smiled benevolently as I listened to the girl’s story, which really did include all the details. And when she broke into tears, I waited for a few minutes without saying anything. The tears stopped and Lera shook her head. She looked into my eyes.
‘We went into a pub, the Oak and Ribbon, and had something to eat. We drank a pint of beer each. It was hot, and then we saw the sign for that damned tourist show. Victor thought it would be interesting. Or at least that it would be cool inside. So we went in.’