The vampire licked his lips. But he carried on smiling.
‘Tell me about it, Anton. The young folk these days have got so wild. We struggle and strain, trying to educate them … frighten them – with your name, by the way. Tell them Gorodetsky will come and dematerialise them …’
I realised I was taking a hopeless beating in this duel of words. So I pretended it had never even happened.
‘Right then, we’re onto it,’ I said. ‘Your assistance is no longer required, you can go.’
‘I’ll stand here for a while and watch,’ the vampire chuckled. What was his name … I’d seen his picture at briefings in the Night Watch office, but his name had completely slipped my mind. Something very ordinary, either Sasha or Andrei … ‘It’s not every day you see Light Ones clobbering their own.’
That finally got my back up.
‘Fine,’ I said, spreading my hands. ‘You can observe. But bear in mind that if I can’t disarm the guy immediately – and I can’t guarantee anything – then the first thing he’ll probably start doing is clobbering bloodsuckers. That’s a bad character trait we Light Ones have – we dislike the Lower Others most of all.’
His face twitched briefly, but then he smiled again.
‘I can’t argue with that. You do have a bent for discrimination. Thanks for the warning – I’ll be careful.’
I walked past the Day Watch representative, imagining to myself (with great pleasure) how I could flatten that insolent vampire with a Press and then rip off his registration mark, and he would crumble into grey ash.
What was it with the vampires these days? Insolent, smug … First that one who was hunting near Bolotnaya Square, and now this one …
The policemen at the entrance moved towards me uncertainly. They could sense that something was wrong – their instincts told them that the people in the stadium were behaving oddly …
What kind of nonsense is this? What instincts? These are people, not animals!
‘Show me your invitation, citizen,’ said a rosy-cheeked young man in uniform, blocking my way.
‘You’re not concerned about my invitation,’ I said morosely, waving my hand in the style of the Jedi knights. The vampire behind me giggled audibly.
‘I’m not concerned about your invitation,’ the policeman agreed, stepping back. His comrade, who had also been affected by the mild spell, backed away to allow me through.
And then I saw a familiar face ahead of me. This policeman hadn’t been affected by the spell, and now he was waving his arms, desperately trying to attract my attention.
Yes indeed. Anyone who has experienced magical compulsion tries not to repeat the experience.
‘Hi, Dima,’ I said, walking over to Pastukhov. ‘What are you doing here? It’s not your district, is it?’
‘I’ve been shipped in with the reinforcements,’ said the senior sergeant. Despite the cold weather, he was streaming with sweat. ‘Tell me, Anton – what’s happening?’
‘A minor emergency,’ I said dismissively. ‘Don’t bother your head about it, it’s our job.’
‘And tell me, over there … behind you … is that …?’ He hesitated.
‘A vampire,’ I replied honestly. ‘Don’t worry, he’s on duty too. He’s bad, but not dangerous right now. He won’t do anything to anyone.’
‘Can I stick with you?’ Pastukhov implored me desperately. ‘I’m like one of the gang, right? I help you, we work together … I gave a lecture to your colleagues yesterday …’
Probably he simply didn’t want to stay near a vampire, even a ‘safe’ one. But on the other hand … why not? There was something intriguing about the idea of working in tandem with a member of the human forces of law and order.
‘Let’s go,’ I said. ‘Only stay behind me and don’t interfere, all right?’
Pastukhov nodded and then crossed himself clumsily.
Valentin Loktev was a young man of rather unprepossessing appearance. The only noteworthy feature he possessed were his immense eyebrows, which reminded me of the former leader of the USSR, Leonid Brezhnev. But the General Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union also had a massive and impressive figure that somehow harmonised with his giant eyebrows – as well as a post that allowed him to determine people’s fate and the destiny of the entire world with a single flourish of them. But the beetle-browed Loktev was a skinny young guy with an otherwise absolutely ordinary appearance.
Maybe, of course, if he were to occupy a post like Brezhnev’s, that would lend him charisma, the way it so often happens.
Loktev was sitting well apart from the other spectators. As Pastukhov and I climbed up to him, I examined the audience curiously. They looked kind of dejected. Some rock band was performing on the stage, laying down frenzied heavy metal, and the spectators periodically seemed to come to life and start moving about … and then slump back into indifference again.
The Light Magician Valya Loktev was pumping their energy out of them. Pumping out the Power that was swirling about, mingled with positive emotions. And that is basically what every Schuchart does.
‘Light vampires’ like this got their name from readers and admirers of the Strugatsky Brothers. In their novel Roadside Picnic, there’s a wonderful character by the name of Schuchart, and at the end of the book he approaches the Golden Orb that grants wishes, shouting out (or muttering to himself – ah, I can’t remember …) the only good wish that he can think of: ‘Happiness for all, and let no one leave feeling short-changed!’
Naturally, malicious tongues rehashed this agonised cri de coeur from a member of the intelligentsia into the phrase: ‘Happiness for all and let no one who feels short-changed leave!’ Which, of course, changes the whole idea substantially. But at the same time it introduces a certain honest realism into a fantastic story.
‘Schucharts’ is the term we in the Watch use for Light Ones who one day simply snap in the face of the imperfection of the universe, decide to work good all over the place and run amok. The problem with this is that the good they work immediately gives the Dark Ones the right to work evil of equal strength … Of course, Dark Ones are not all born villains, thirsting to torment everyone around them simply to satisfy their own malice. In daily life many Dark Ones are perfectly pleasant. But they mostly derive their Power from the negative feelings of the humans around them. And in general they have no real regard for them, so when they’re given the right to Dark intervention they quickly make up for all the good caused by a ‘Schuchart’. And, as a rule, with interest.
In general, Schucharts are not very powerful – Fourth- or Fifth-Level, only rarely Third. (Those who are more powerful than that are usually more intelligent and mature.) That’s why, once they’ve chosen the path of militant good, ‘Schucharts’ set out for places where they can load up with Power from positive emotions – a good concert, the premiere of a long-awaited film, a sports event at which the fans of the winning team are in the majority, or even a children’s New Year party. And there they pump themselves full of energy – so much energy that it makes dealing with them a problem, even for Higher Magicians.
And then off they go, working good on all sides. Until they’re stopped.
By any possible means.
One day I almost became a ‘Schuchart’ myself. But I had either the wits or the luck to realise exactly what I ought to do … what I was gathering the energy of human happiness for.
I wasn’t sure about the young man Valentin.
As I approached, I could see quite clearly just how full he had pumped himself. Right up to the eyeballs, as they say – he couldn’t accumulate any more Power and was flinging everything he pumped out into a Sphere of Negation. I could tell at a glance that no spell of mine would pierce that defence. Maybe Gesar could have done something. Thanks to his technique. But there was no certainty that even he could have done anything straight away.