‘Come on!’ She tugged at the leads and the dogs gladly moved back to her side.
The young man laughed quietly.
The woman quickened her step and disappeared from view.
‘He’s not coming to me!’ the girl exclaimed petulantly. ‘Look, will you, look, he’s not coming!’
‘Try harder,’ the young man said curtly. He frowned. ‘Learn.’
‘Come! Come to me!’ the girl said, emphasising each word. Egor was less than two metres away, but it seemed to be important to her that he came over to her.
Egor realised that he had no more strength to resist. The girl’s gaze held him, as if binding him with an invisible elastic tether, the words summoned him and he could not help himself. He knew that he should not move, but still he took a step forward. The girl smiled, and he saw her white, even teeth. She said:
‘Take off your scarf.’
He couldn’t hold out any longer. His hands trembled as he threw back his hood and pulled off his scarf without unwinding it. He stepped towards those alluring black eyes.
Something was happening to the girl’s face. Her lower jaw was stretching down, her teeth were moving, curving. He saw the flash of long fangs that were not human.
Egor took another step.
CHAPTER 1
THE NIGHT got off to a bad start.
It was barely even dark when I woke. I just lay there, thinking things over, watching the final gleams of daylight fading away in the cracks of the blinds. This was the fifth night of the hunt – and there was still nothing to show for it. And I wasn’t likely to get lucky today either.
It was cold in the apartment, the radiators hardly gave any heat at all. The only thing I like about winter is that it gets dark quickly, so there aren’t many people out on the streets. If not for that, I’d have dropped the whole business ages ago and left Moscow for some place like Yalta or Sochi. It would have to be the Black Sea, not some far away islands in a warm foreign ocean: I like to hear the sound of my mother tongue around me …
Stupid dreams, of course.
It’s still too soon for me to be thinking of retiring to somewhere a bit warmer.
I haven’t earned it yet.
The telephone must have been waiting for me to wake up – it started ringing in that loathsome, nagging way it has. I fumbled for the receiver and held it to my ear – quietly, without saying a word.
‘Anton, answer.’
I didn’t say anything. Larissa’s voice was brisk and focused, but already tired. She obviously hadn’t slept all day.
‘Anton, shall I put you through to the boss?’
‘No, don’t do that,’ I growled.
‘That’s more like it. Are you awake?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s the same again for you today.’
‘Anything new?’
‘No, not a thing. Have you got anything for breakfast?’
‘I’ll find something.’
‘Okay Good luck.’
It sounded feeble and unconvincing. Larissa didn’t have any faith in me. No doubt the boss didn’t either.
‘Thanks,’ I said to the dial tone. I got up and made the usual trip to the toilet and the bathroom. I was just about to spread toothpaste on the brush when I realised I was getting ahead of myself and put it back down on the edge of the basin.
It was completely dark in the kitchen, but of course I didn’t bother turning on the light. I opened the door of the fridge – the small light bulb I’d screwed out of its socket lay there freezing with the food. I looked at the saucepan with the colander sitting on top of it. Lying in the colander was a lump of half-defrosted meat. I lifted out the colander, raised the saucepan to my lips and took a gulp.
If anyone thinks pig’s blood tastes good, then they’re wrong.
I put the saucepan with the rest of the thawed-out blood back in the fridge and walked back to the bathroom. The dull blue lamp hardly lightened the darkness at all. I took a long time cleaning my teeth, brushing furiously, then I gave in, went back to the kitchen and took a gulp of icy vodka from the fridge. Now my stomach didn’t just feel warm, it felt hot. A wonderful set of sensations: frost on my teeth and fire in my stomach.
I hope you— I started thinking, about the boss, but I caught myself just in time. He was quite capable of sensing even a half-formed curse. I went through into my room and started gathering together the clothes scattered all over the place. I discovered my trousers under the bed, my socks on the windowsill, and for some reason my shirt was hanging on the mask of Chkhoen.
The ancient king of Korea eyed me disapprovingly.
‘Why can’t you just watch over me?’ I muttered, and then the phone started screeching again. I paced around the room until I found the receiver.
‘Anton, was there something you wanted to say to me?’ the disembodied voice asked.
‘Not a thing,’ I said sullenly.
‘I see. Now add “glad to serve, your honour” to that.’
‘I’m not glad. And there’s nothing to be done about it … your honour.’
The boss paused for a moment.
‘Anton, I really would like you to take this situation we have on our hands a bit more seriously. All right? I expect you to report back in the morning, in any case. And … good luck.’
I didn’t exactly feel ashamed. But I wasn’t feeling quite so irritated any more. I put my mobile phone in my jacket pocket, opened the cupboard in the hallway and wondered for a while what I ought to take to round out my kit. I had a few novel items of equipment that friends had given me the previous week. But I settled on the usual lot anyway – it’s fairly compact and gives pretty good all-round coverage.
Plus the minidisc walkman. I don’t need my sense of hearing for anything, and boredom is an implacable enemy.
Before I went out I took a long look at the staircase through the spy-hole. Nobody there.
And that was the beginning of one more night.
I rode the metro for about six hours, switching aimlessly from line to line without any system, sometimes dozing, letting my conscious mind take a break and my senses roam. There was nothing going down. Well, I did see a few interesting things, but they were all utterly ordinary, tame beginner’s stuff. It wasn’t until about eleven, as the metro got less crowded, that things changed.
I was sitting there with my eyes closed, listening to Manfredini’s Fifth Symphony for the third time that evening. The minidisc in the player was totally wild; a personal selection, medieval Italian composers and Bach alternating with the rock group Alisa, Richie Blackmore and Picnic. It’s always interesting to see which music comes up for which event. Today it was Manfredini.
I felt this sudden cramp – all the way up from my toes to the back of my head. I even hissed as I opened my eyes and glanced round the carriage.
I picked the girl out straight away.
Very pretty, young. In a stylish fur coat, with a little handbag and a book in her hands. And with a black vortex spinning above her head like I hadn’t seen for at least three years.
I suppose the look I gave her must have made me look insane. The girl sensed it, glanced back at me and immediately turned away.
Try looking up instead!
No, of course she’s not going to see the twister anyway. The most she could possibly feel is a slight sensation of alarm. And she can’t get any more than the vaguest glimpse of that flickering above her head, out of the corner of her eye … like a swarm of midges swirling round and round, like the air trembling above the tarmac on a hot day …