Half an hour later I reached Sokol station and made my way up to street level. It was noisy and crowded, and the air was filled with exhaust fumes. But it was still spring.

There are plenty of districts in Moscow worse than the one where our office is. In fact, it's probably one of the best—that's not counting the Day Watch offices, of course. But then, the Kremlin wouldn't suit us, anyway: The traces of the past lie too heavy on Red Square and the ancient brick walls. Maybe someday they'll get worn away. But that would require certain conditions, and there's no sign of them coming anytime soon… no sign at all, unfortunately.

I walked from the metro; it wasn't far. The faces on every side looked friendly and welcoming, thawed by the spring sunshine. That's why I love the spring: It takes the edge off that feeling of weary helplessness. And there are fewer temptations around…

One of the security guys was smoking outside the door. He gave me a friendly nod. Thorough checks weren't part of his job description. And as it happened, I was the one who decided whether they had Internet access and new games on their computer in the duty room, or just the official information and personnel files.

«You're late, Anton,» he said.

I checked my watch.

«The boss has called everyone together in the conference room; they were looking for you.»

Strange; I wasn't usually brought in on the morning briefings. Had one of my computer networks crashed? Not likely, or they'd have dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night without a second thought, and it wouldn't have been the first time either…

I nodded and started walking faster.

The building has an elevator, but it's ancient, and I preferred to run up to the fourth floor. There was another security post, a bit more serious this time, on the third-floor landing. Garik was on duty. As I approached he screwed up his eyes and peered through the Twilight, scanning my aura and all the markings that we Night Watch agents carry on our bodies. Then he gave me a friendly smile:

«Get a move on.»

The door of the conference room was half-open. I glanced inside. There were about thirty people in there, mostly field agents and analysts. The boss was striding in front of a map of Moscow and nodding his head, while his commercial deputy, Vitaly Markovich, a very weak magician, but a born businessman, spoke to everyone:

«And so we have completely covered our current expenditures, and we have no need to resort to… er… special varieties of financial activity. If the meeting approves my proposals, we can increase our employees' allowances somewhat—in the first instance, naturally, for our field operatives. Payments for temporary disability and pensions for the families of those who have been killed also need to be… er… increased somewhat. And we can afford to do that…«

It was funny to see magicians who could transform lead into gold, coal into diamonds, and neat rectangles of paper into crisp bank notes discussing commerce. But in actual fact it made things easier. It provided an occupation for those Others whose powers were too meager to make them a living. And it reduced the risk of unsettling the balance of power.

When I appeared, Boris Ignatievich nodded and said:

«Thank you, Vitaly. I think the situation is quite clear; there are no complaints as far as your work is concerned. Shall we vote on it? Thank you. Now, while we have everyone here…«

The boss kept a close eye on me as I tiptoed to an empty chair and sat down.

»… we can move on to the most important item of business.»

From his chair next to me, Semyon leaned over and whispered:

«The most important item of business is the payment of Party dues for March…«

I couldn't help smiling. Sometimes Boris Ignatievich really does act just like an old-time Communist Party functionary. I find that less irritating than when he acts like a medieval inquisitor or a retired general, but maybe that's just me…

«The most important item is a protest I received from the Day Watch just two hours ago,» said the boss.

It didn't sink in immediately. The Day Watch and the Night Watch are constantly making problems for each other. There are protests every week: Sometimes it's settled at the district office level, and sometimes a case goes to the Berne tribunal…

Then I realized any protest that required a full meeting of the Watch couldn't possibly be ordinary.

«The essential point of the protest,» said the boss, rubbing the bridge of his nose, «… the essential point of the protest is as follows… This morning one of the Dark Side's women was killed near Stoleshnikov Lane. This is a brief description of the incident…«

Two sheets of paper warm from the printer landed in my lap. Everyone else received an identical gift. I ran my eyes over the text:

«Galina Rogova, twenty-four years old… initiated at the age of seven, her family are not Others… mentor—Anna Chernogorova, fourth-grade magician… At the age of seven Galina Rogova was identified as a were-panther. Average powers…«

I frowned as I read through the dossier, although there wasn't much reason for concern. Rogova had been a Dark One, but she hadn't worked in Day Watch. She hadn't ever hunted human beings, not even once. Even the two licenses she'd been given, when she came of age and after her wedding, hadn't been used. With the help of magic she'd reached a high position in the Warm Home construction corporation and married the deputy director. One child—a boy, no Other powers detected. She'd used her powers as an Other for self-protection a few times, and on one occasion killed her attacker. But even then she hadn't stooped to cannibalism…

«We could do with more shape-shifters like that, right?» asked Semyon. He turned the page and gave a little snort of surprise. Intrigued, I flipped to the end of the document.

That was it. The report of the examination. A cut in the blouse and the jacket… probably a blow with a thin-bladed dagger. Enchanted, of course; a shape-shifter couldn't be killed with plain ordinary steel. But what was it that had surprised Semyon?

There it was!

No visible wounds had been discovered on the body. Not even a scratch. The cause of death was a total drain of vital energy.

«Very neat,» said Semyon. «I remember during the Civil War I was sent to capture a were-tiger. The bastard worked in the Cheka, and pretty high up too…«

«Have you familiarized yourselves with the data?» the boss asked.

«May I ask a question?» A slim arm shot into the air on the far side of the room.

«By all means, Yulia,» the boss said with a nod.

The Night Watch's youngest member stood up, adjusting her hair nervously. A pretty-looking young girl, maybe just a little immature. But taking her into the analytical department had been a good move.

«Boris Ignatievich, the way I see it, the magical intervention here is second degree. Or even first?»

«It could be second degree,» the boss confirmed.

«That means it could have been you…« Yulia paused for a moment, embarrassed. «Or perhaps Semyon… Ilya… or Garik. Right?»

«Garik couldn't have done it,» said the boss. «But Ilya or Semyon could have.»

Semyon mumbled something, as if he'd rather have been spared the compliment.

«It's also just possible that the killing was carried out by someone on the Light Side who was just passing through Moscow,» Yulia mused out loud. «But magicians that powerful can't arrive in town without being noticed; they're all monitored by Day Watch. That means there are three people we need to investigate. And if they all have alibis, we have no charges to answer, right?»

«Yulia,» the boss said, shaking his head, «no one's bringing any charges against us. What we have here is the work of a Light Magician not registered in Moscow who is not aware of the Treaty.»

Now that was really serious…

«Then… oh!» said Yulia. «I'm sorry, Boris Ignatievich.»

«That's perfectly okay,» the boss said, nodding again. «You've taken us right to the heart of the matter. There's someone we've managed to overlook, boys and girls. We've let someone slip through our fingers. We have a Light One of great power wandering loose in Moscow. He or she doesn't understand a thing—and he's killing Dark Ones.»

«More than one?» a voice in the hall asked.

«Yes. I checked the archives. There were similar incidents three years ago, in the spring and fall, and two years ago, in the fall again. On every occasion there was no physical trauma, just the signature tear in the clothing. The Day Watch investigated, but it came up with nothing. Apparently they attributed the death of their own people to chance… so now one of the Dark Ones will be punished.»

«And one of the Light Ones too?»

«One of us too.»

Semyon cleared his throat and said in a thoughtful voice, «The periods between the incidents are strange, Boris…«

«I don't think we know about all the incidents. Whoever this magician may be, he has always killed Others with low-level powers; obviously there must have been some kind of chink in their protective covers. It's very likely that a number of his victims were uninitiated or unknown Dark Others. Here's what I propose…«

The boss paused and glanced around the room before he continued:

«Analytical section—collate available information from criminal records and try to identify similar incidents. Bear in mind that they may not have been classified as murders, more likely as deaths from unknown causes. Check the results of autopsies, question people working in the morgues… think for yourselves where you can obtain the information. Research group—send two or three agents to the Day Watch and examine the body. Operations group—intensive street patrols. Try to find him, guys.»

«We're always on the lookout for someone,» Igor muttered. «Boris Ignatievich, there's no way we could have overlooked a powerful magician. We just couldn't have!»

«He may not be initiated,» the boss snapped back. «His powers manifest themselves sporadically…«

«In the spring and the fall, just like any ordinary psycho…«

«Yes, Igor, that's perfectly right. In the spring and in the fall. And now, right after this latest killing, he must still be carrying some trace of magic. That gives us a chance, if only a small one. Get on it.»

«Boris, what exactly is our goal?» Semyon asked curiously.

Some people in the room had already started getting to their feet, but now they stopped.

«Our goal is to find this Maverick before the Dark Ones do. To protect him, educate him, and bring him over to our side. As usual.»