Arina didn’t answer.
‘And just why have you decided that the Twilight is an enemy?’ I went on. ‘And that it’s in some way involved in realising the prophecies? Don’t get your apples and oranges mixed up. Say my daughter does go and destroy the Tiger. And the Twilight with it. Magic disappears. But the prophecies remain the same as they were. They come true. Do you understand? What then? We won’t even be able to do the little bit that we can do now! Because we’ll have become ordinary human beings!’
‘I’d like to believe Gesar,’ said Arina. ‘And you, too. But what if I’m right? What lies behind your words, Anton? Genuine anxiety for people? For peace, for our country, for your nearest and dearest? Or simply the fear of a magician living his own special, interesting, comfortable life? The fear of losing his abilities and becoming like everyone else!’
‘Permit me to remind you,’ I said, unable to stop myself, ‘that if you lose your abilities, you’ll be transformed into a decrepit old woman. Or disintegrate completely, into dust.’
‘Yes,’ Arina said in a quiet voice. ‘You’re right. But that has nothing to do with the case. I’m prepared to pay that price.’
‘Well, I’m not! And in particular I’m not prepared to decide for others. For Sveta. For Nadya. For Kesha. For all the Others who exist and will exist.’
‘But you’ll have to, won’t you, Anton?’ Arina said with just a hint of a threat.
‘You think so?’ I asked. ‘What will you do? Reveal the prophecy to humans? It doesn’t state that the Tiger will be killed. It only tells us that Nadya can kill the Tiger. Do you want to make her do it? That will be pretty hard. And not only because you’ll have to get past me and Svetlana … I don’t know how I’ll manage, but Sveta will twist you into a fancy pretzel. She’s a mother. Do you understand that? But you’d still have to persuade Nadya. Battles like that aren’t won through fear. And Nadya won’t destroy the Tiger. She’s very fond of furry little animals in general.’
‘Furry little animals …’ Arina laughed bitterly. ‘Is that right? I’ll think of something.’
‘You can tell the prophecy to humans,’ I said magnanimously. ‘If that’s what you want. There’s nothing inevitable in it. All you’ll achieve is to set the Tiger on your own trail.’
‘I’ll think of something,’ Arina repeated stubbornly. ‘For instance … wait, where are you going?’
‘What do you mean, where?’ I asked. ‘To work. I turn through the gates right here.’
There was a pop behind me – and Arina disappeared. The Night Watch office is shielded by so many magical barriers that Arina could have been left stuck outside the gates for ever – despite all her great wisdom and the power of the Minoan Sphere.
I parked in my own space, with a gloating laugh, only to discover three of our guys getting into our SUV field vehicle – Semyon, Las and Alisher! A strange kind of team! I clambered out of the car and waved to them.
‘Where are you off to?’
‘Another Schuchart’s turned up. Want to go with us?’
‘What level?’ I asked.
‘Fourth. But the guy’s pumped himself full of Power.’
The picture of Arina tormented by demons flew right out of my head, along with all the prophecies in the world. When someone throws a Schuchart, it’s bad. Very bad. I know: it nearly happened to me once. And as yesterday evening had made clear, it could even have happened to Svetlana …
And if this young guy had already pumped himself up to the gills …
‘Let’s go,’ I said as I climbed into the car. Las was in the driving seat. He turned and looked at me intently.
‘Yes, thanks for reminding me,’ I said, then closed my eyes and started removing the block on my magical abilities. ‘Note that this is a matter of urgent necessity. I think I’ve already proved that I was right!’
Las didn’t argue. He just stepped on the gas.
The area around Luzhniki Stadium was quiet. I got out of the car first and looked round. Yes – this was bad. Judging from the amount of litter on the approaches to the stadium, quite a lot of people had passed this way. And the number of polizei at the entrances suggested the same. What a lot of fine puns we sacrificed when we took up that German term and dropped the good old Russian ‘filth’.
But it was quiet.
‘What’s going on here?’ I asked Alisher. ‘It’s a bit early for any kind of sports events.’
‘A concert,’ Las said curtly.
‘Thank God it’s not football,’ I murmured. ‘But what band is it? And why are they playing in the morning – is it a special children’s performance?’
‘Almost. The All-Russian Youth Competition for New Performers, the final. All sorts of rock bands from Perm and Yekaterinburg, original genre artistes from Kaluga and Syktyvkar, folk-rhyme declaimers from the Urals …’
‘Well, then, there can’t be many spectators here,’ I said dismissively. ‘Although maybe I shouldn’t be so sceptical – Yekaterinburg has produced heaps of tremendous groups …’
‘Someone had the bright idea of providing the performers with an audience. They’ve bussed in school kids, twenty thousand of them. And soldiers too, as part of their cultural programme – at least ten thousand.’
‘Dammit!’ I said, lengthening my stride. ‘Alisher, I’ll make contact. You brief me and handle liaison with the Day Watch. Las, you take up position among the school kids. If necessary, put them all out with Morpheus. Semyon, you back me up, okay?’
‘There isn’t really much to brief you on …’ Alisher said, frowning. ‘Valentin Loktev, twenty-five years old, Fourth-Level, not specialised, studied in our school five years ago, didn’t join the Watch …’
The image that Alisher had sent took shape in my memory: a young guy with a nose twisted slightly to one side, sharp but rather coarse facial features, without any breeding or inner strength.
‘A sportsman, is he?’ I asked. ‘I seem to remember him. I saw him at the school a couple of times, when I was giving lectures.’
‘A sportsman,’ Alisher chuckled. ‘A chess-player! And his nose is flattened like that from fighting when he was a little kid and a teenager. He’s from the outskirts, a district well known for the direct approach to settling disagreements.’
‘I get it,’ I said.
As we reached the entrance I picked out a member of the Day Watch in the crowd – a young vampire, dressed in a deliberately bright, challenging style. To look at he was the same age as our Schuchart, about twenty-five. The vampire was standing there, slouching against the metal barriers near the entrance.
‘Hi there, Gorodetsky!’ he exclaimed, identifying me instantly. I have a certain reputation among the vampires. And you couldn’t even really say that it’s a bad one. It’s kind of complicated.
But at least they all know me.
‘Anton Gorodetsky, Night Watch,’ I said, preferring to introduce myself formally in any case, and not slip into an informal tone. ‘What’s happening?’
The vampire didn’t take up my cool tone.
‘Ah, the usual business with you Light Ones. Some young guy wants universal good and justice. And right now, straight away, as usual. He’s sitting in the stand, sector B, up at the top, pumping Power out of everyone on all sides.’
‘We get some interesting cases with you Dark Ones as well,’ I said. ‘When you get the urge for a drop of hot blood … and off you go into the dark streets at night.’