He was a good boy. Even if he was clumsy and overweight.
‘Thank you for coming,’ said Gesar. He got up and stepped forward, assuming the role of the host without being invited to. Zabulon spread his arms out theatrically and shook his head, but didn’t say anything. ‘Almost all of us know each other… do you remember me, Egor?’
‘Yes,’ Egor replied. ‘You haven’t changed.’
Gesar nodded.
‘And you look better than you did back then on the roof, Zabulon.’
Egor was very calm. Even tranquil.
‘Hello, Egor,’ said Svetlana. ‘I’m Svetlana, Anton’s wife. And this is Nadya, our daughter.’
‘And I’m a witch,’ said Arina. ‘Just a witch.’
‘Hello there,’ Egor said with a nod. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
He walked over to Arina, reached out his hand, took a tiny scarlet flower out of her hair and presented it to her. Then he smoothly did the same thing with Svetlana and Nadya.
‘I didn’t feel any magic,’ Nadya said in a surprised voice, examining the flower.
‘It isn’t magic, it’s sleight of hand,’ said Egor, bowing politely. ‘I understand you have a team that is about to do battle with a monster in order to save the entire world. And I have an important function to perform in it.’
‘You could put it like that,’ Zabulon agreed.
‘I’m ready and willing,’ Egor said. ‘I’ve been warned about the possible consequences and I have no problems with that. I accept responsibility for the risks involved. Do I need to sign anything?’
‘We work without bureaucracy,’ said Gesar. ‘Sit down. Would you like some tea or coffee? A sandwich?’
‘Coffee,’ said Egor, walking over to the table. He shook my hand. Zabulon also reached out to him across the table and, after a moment’s hesitation, Egor shook hands with him too.
‘Olga,’ Gesar commanded. ‘Bring Egor a coffee and get a latte for me.’
Olga shrugged in exactly the same way that Zabulon had when Gesar started giving orders. My wonderful boss not only regarded himself as the most important person in any situation, he also treated any woman, even his own beloved, in the simple manner of the bygone times of his youth. It was the woman’s job to bring tea or coffee for a guest, and that was that. Olga accepted the situation and didn’t say a word. She just walked out into the reception area, where the secretary’s coffee machine stood.
‘And I’ll have water – still, not fizzy!’ Jermenson shouted after her as he walked across to Gesar and sat down beside him.
‘Are we still waiting for someone?’ Egor asked.
‘Yes, the sixth member of the team isn’t here yet,’ Gesar said evasively.
‘That sounds a bit vague,’ said Egor, looking at me.
‘I’m sorry, I should have told you,’ I explained. ‘It’s a vampiress. The one who attacked you that time.’
To my surprise not even a single muscle twitched in Egor’s face. He just scratched the spot above his eyebrow with the tip of one finger.
‘She was laid to rest. They told me.’
‘Sometimes they come back. But she seems to be on our side, Egor. She helped us to fight off the Two-in-One when he showed up the first time. And then she became the vampires’ Master of Masters by fighting for the title at their assembly.’
Egor looked at me in amazement and started reciting something – it took me a moment to realise that it was the words of one of Grebenshchikov’s old songs.
‘She’s so smart and she’s so fine, she’s read all the books she should have read, for sure; she goes out hunting dressed in bright-coloured silk… Anton, you told me she was an inexperienced young vampire. Do they suddenly become so powerful when they’re resurrected?’
‘There,’ Zabulon said loudly. ‘Even a callow boy can see that it’s nonsense! I told you so, Gesar. It can’t be her! It can’t be. There’s no way that regenerating a deceased vampire can make him more powerful than he was before! And he can’t even be regenerated if his ashes have been scattered at sea – there’s nothing left to regenerate!’
Gesar shrugged. ‘Then who is it? She wrote Anton messages, she sneaked into our offices and gave him advice, she defended the entire Gorodetsky family in front of our very eyes…’
‘It wasn’t her,’ Zabulon said firmly. ‘I don’t know. Any other vampiress – they’re all mistresses of illusion.’
‘Now boys, stop quarrelling!’ Olga shouted from the reception area. ‘We’re expecting a guest, aren’t we?’
Gesar and Zabulon shut up.
‘Someone’s knocking,’ said Olga. ‘I’ll get it.’
Sergei Glyba darted over to the window with surprising agility, grabbing Kesha by the hand and dragging him away from his conversation with Nadya. Jermenson, on the contrary, stood up and moved closer to the door. The old Battle Magician’s face lit up in eager anticipation.
I got up too and positioned myself between the door and my family.
‘Ah, so that’s it,’ we heard Olga say. ‘Very interesting. Come in.’
‘She’s certainly making the most of her entrance,’ Zabulon remarked as Olga walked in through the door first and cast a mysterious, thoughtful glance at me.
Then Olga stepped aside and a young girl, dressed in jeans and a nylon jacket, walked in. The snow was still dusting her collar in a way it never does with living people – that only happens with vampires, who are as cold as ice. And I remembered this vampiress. A thin face with high cheekbones and dark, sunken eyes. When a vampire’s organism has stabilised, this stigma of eternal hunger is hidden: it retreats deep inside. But this vampiress had never developed into a mature individual. She had been disembodied for unlicensed hunting and attacking members of the Night Watch.
‘Didn’t I tell you? I was right!’ Gesar exclaimed triumphantly.
‘Hi there,’ I said to the vampiress. What else can you say to a dead enemy who has just risen from hell? Especially to an enemy who once seemed terrifying and dangerous, but proved to be no more than a weak and lowly pawn in someone else’s game. And then all of a sudden turned into an incredibly powerful friend.
The vampiress looked at me. A shadow of recognition flickered across her face, followed by powerless malevolence. No, a vampiress who looked at me like that could never have rescued me… Then suddenly her face blurred, changing its shape; her body started stretching upwards and her figure changed into a man’s. It was one of those illusions that vampires are so fond of, but it was also the kind of full-on morphing that only a Higher Vampire can perform.
‘No,’ I said, watching as the faces appeared, one after another. ‘No!’
First came the vampire Vitieslav from the Inquisition. There was recognition in his expression too, and even a hint of affection. Then he saw Arina and obviously wanted to say something to her… But his place was taken by another face and I winced in pain when I recognised Gennadii Saushkin, whom I had disembodied in Edinburgh. He was once a good-natured, law-abiding citizen – insofar as that’s possible for a vampire – and then he became an insane killer.
Somehow I could tell that none of them were real. The vampiress, Vitieslav and Saushkin hadn’t come back to life, all squeezed into a single body. It was something else. Some kind of disguise, but so perfect, so profound, that the masks were almost alive, almost real.
Almost. But they were still masks. Someone was wearing them…
Gennadii Saushkin recognised me too, and lowered his gaze in embarrassment, as if he felt ashamed to see me, his executioner. And then another face surfaced, one that looked like his, but a lot younger.