But who for?
‘Max?’ There was a note of reproach in Elena’s voice. ‘You’re off in the clouds again.’
They clinked glasses. It was a bad sign for husband and wife to do that, it meant there’d be no money in the family. But Maxim wasn’t superstitious.
Who was it?
At first he suspected two girls. Both attractive, even beautiful, but each in her own way. The shorter one with dark hair, who moved in a slightly angular fashion, like a man, was overflowing with energy. She positively oozed sex. The other one, the blonde, was taller, more calm and restrained. And her beauty was quite different, soothing.
Maxim felt his wife watching him and looked away.
‘Lesbians,’ his wife said disdainfully.
‘What?’
‘Well, just look at them! The small dark-haired one in jeans is totally butch.’
So she was. Maxim nodded and assumed an appropriate expression.
Not them. Not them, after all. But who was it then?
A mobile phone rang in the corner of the room and a dozen people automatically reached for their phones. Maxim located the source of the sound and caught his breath.
The man talking into the phone in rapid, quiet bursts was not simply Evil. He was enveloped in a black shroud that other people couldn’t see, though Maxim could sense it.
The draught was coming from him, it smelled of danger, appalling danger, coming closer.
Maxim felt a sudden ache in his chest.
‘You know what, Elena, I’d like to live on a desert island,’ he blurted out before he realised what he was saying.
‘Alone?’
‘With you and the children. But no one else. Not a soul.’
He gulped down the rest of his wine and the waiter immediately refilled his glass.
‘I wouldn’t like that,’ his wife said.
‘I know.’
The dagger felt heavy and hot in his pocket now. The mounting excitement was acute, almost sexual. It demanded release.
‘Do you remember Edgar Allen Poe?’ Svetlana asked.
They’d let us in without any fuss. I hadn’t been expecting that – the rules in restaurants must have changed, become more democratic, or maybe they were just short of customers.
‘No. He died too long ago. But Semyon was telling me—’
‘I didn’t mean Poe himself. I meant his stories.’
‘The Man of the Crowd?’ I guessed.
Svetlana laughed quietly.
‘Yes. You’re in the same fix as him right now. You have to stick to crowded places.’
‘Fortunately I’m not sick of those places just yet.’
We took a glass of Bailey’s each and ordered something to eat. That probably gave the waiter ideas about why we were there – two inexperienced prostitutes looking for work – but I didn’t really care.
‘Was he an Other?’
‘Poe? Probably an uninitiated one.’
Silence
Svetlana recited in a quiet voice.
I looked at her in surprise.
‘Do you know it?’ she asked.
‘How can I put it?’ I said. Then I raised my eyes and declaimed:
We looked at each for a second and then both burst into laughter.
‘A literary duel,’ Svetlana said ironically. ‘Score line: one – one. A pity we don’t have an audience. But why wasn’t Poe initiated?’
‘A lot of poets are potential Others. But some potentials are best left to live as humans. Poe was too psychologically unstable – giving people like that special powers is like handing a pyromaniac a can of petrol. I wouldn’t even try to guess which side he would have taken. He’d probably have withdrawn into the Twilight for ever, and very quickly.’
‘But how do they live there? The ones who have withdrawn for ever?’
‘I don’t know, Svetlana. I expect no one really knows. You sometimes come across them in the Twilight world, but there’s no contact in the usual sense of the word.’
‘I’d like to find out,’ said Svetlana, casting a thoughtful glance round the room. ‘Have you noticed the Other in here?’ she asked.
‘The old man behind me, talking on his phone?’
‘Why do you call him old?’
‘He’s very old. I’m not looking with my eyes.’
Svetlana bit her lip and screwed up her eyes. She was beginning to develop small ambitions of her own.
‘I can’t do it yet,’ she admitted. ‘I can’t even tell if he’s Light or Dark.’
‘Dark. Not from the Day Watch, but Dark. A magician with middle-level powers. And by the way, he’s spotted us too.’
‘So what are we going to do?’
‘Us? Nothing.’
‘But he’s Dark!’
‘Yes, and we’re Light. What of it? As Watch agents we have the right to check his ID. But it’s bound to be in order.’
‘And when will we have the right to intervene?’
‘When he gets up, waves his hands through the air, turns into a demon and starts biting off people’s heads …’
‘Anton!’
‘I’m quite serious. We have no right to interfere with an honest Dark Magician’s pleasant evening out.’
The waiter brought our order and we stopped talking. Svetlana ate, but without any real appetite. Then, like a sulky, capricious child, she blurted out:
‘And how long is the Watch going to carry on grovelling like this?’
‘To the Dark Ones?’
‘Yes.’
‘Until we acquire a decisive advantage. Until people who become Others no longer hesitate for even a moment over what to choose: Light or Dark. Until the Dark Ones all die of old age. Until they can no longer nudge people towards Evil as easily as they do now.’
‘But that’s capitulation, Anton.’
‘Neutrality. The status quo. Double deadlock – there’s no point pretending otherwise.’
‘You know, I like the solitary Maverick who’s terrorising the Dark Ones a lot more. Even if he is violating the Treaty, even if he is setting us up without knowing it. He’s fighting against the Dark, isn’t he? Fighting! Alone, against all of them.’
‘And have you thought about why he kills Dark Ones but doesn’t get in touch with us?’
‘No.’
‘He can’t see us, Svetlana. He looks straight through us.’
‘He’s self-taught.’
‘Yes. Self-taught and talented. An Other with powers that manifest themselves chaotically. Capable of seeing Evil. Incapable of recognising Good. Don’t you find that frightening?’
‘No,’ Svetlana said sullenly. ‘I’m sorry I can’t see where you’re going with this, Olga. Sorry, I mean Anton. You’ve started talking just like her.’
‘That’s okay.’
‘The Dark Other’s going somewhere,’ said Svetlana, looking past my shoulder. ‘To extract other people’s energy, to cast evil spells. And we don’t interfere.’