They'd really cut back Olga's powers. In her body it had taken me a real effort to see the secret world of human feelings. But then, that was only a simple thing, absolutely simple. Not even anything to feel proud about.

«It's not me the Day Watch want, Olga. They don't want me at all. I'm an ordinary average magician.»

She nodded.

«But I'm the one they're hunting. There's no doubt about that. So if I'm not the quarry, I must be the bait. The same way Egor was the bait when Sveta was the quarry.»

«Have you only just realized that?» Olga shook her head. «Of course. You're the bait.»

«For Svetlana?»

The sorceress nodded.

«I only realized it today,» I admitted. «Just an hour ago, when Sveta wanted to stand up to the Day Watch, she shifted up to fifth-grade powers. In an instant. If a fight had broken out—she would have been killed. We can be controlled too, Olya. Human beings can be turned in different directions, toward Good or Evil; the Dark Ones can be manipulated through their meanness, their vanity, their thirst for power and fame. And we can be manipulated through our love. In that area we're as defenseless as children.»

«Yes.»

«Is the boss in the picture?» I asked. «Olya?»

«Yes.»

She was finding it hard to get her words out. I couldn't believe it! Light Magicians who had lived for hundreds of years didn't feel shame. They'd saved the world so often; they had all the ethical dodges down pat. Great Sorceresses didn't feel ashamed, not even former Great Sorceresses. They'd been betrayed too often themselves.

I laughed.

«Olya, did you realize right away? As soon as the Dark Ones lodged their protest? That they were hunting me, but only in order to push Svetlana out of control?»

«Yes.»

«Yes, yes, yes. And you still didn't warn me, or her?»

«Svetlana needs to mature quickly, to skip a few steps on the way.» A bright flame flared up in Olga's eyes. «Anton, you're my friend. I'll tell you the truth, so you can understand. We don't have enough time right now to nurture a Great Sorceress properly. But we need her, we need her more than you can even imagine. She already has enough power. She'll get tougher and learn how to muster that power and direct it and, what's even more important, she'll learn how to hold it in check.»

«And if I die, that will only strengthen her will and her hatred of Darkness.»

«Yes. But I'm sure you're not going to die. The Watch is hunting for the Maverick; everybody's been enlisted. We'll turn him over to the Dark Ones and the charges against you will be dropped.»

«But a certain Light Magician who wasn't initiated at the right time will die. Miserable and alone, like an animal brought to bay, convinced he's the only one fighting against the Darkness.»

«Yes.»

«You agree with everything I say today,» I said in a perfectly calm voice. «Olga, don't you think what you're doing might just be despicable?»

«No.» There wasn't a trace of doubt in her voice. That meant the stakes must be really high.

«How long do I have to hold out, Light One?»

She shuddered.

There was a time, a long time ago, when Watch members were fond of—«Light One.» Why had the words lost their old meaning? Why did they sound as absurd now as the word «gentlemen» used to address the dirty street bums around the beer kiosks?

«Until morning at least.»

«The night's not our time any longer. Today all the Dark Ones will be out on the streets of Moscow. And they'll be acting within their rights.»

«Only until we locate the Maverick. Hang in there.»

«Olga.» I took a step toward her and touched her cheek with my hand, for a moment completely forgetting the difference in our ages—what were a few hundred years or so, compared with eternal night?—and about the differences in our powers and our knowledge. «Olga, do you really believe that I'll still be alive in the morning?»

The sorceress didn't answer.

I nodded. There was nothing more to talk about.

I wonder how it would be

To lose myself in the dawn.

To knock at the transparent doors

And know no one will answer.

I clicked the button and set the Walkman playing in random mode. Not because the song didn't match my mood, exactly the opposite in fact.

I love the metro at night, but I don't know why. There's nothing to look at except the same old dreary advertisements and the same old tired human auras. The rumble of the engine, the gusts of air coming in through the half-open windows, the jolting over the rails. The numb wait for your own station.

But I love it anyway.

It's so easy to take advantage of our love!

I shuddered, got up, and walked to the door, even though I'd been planning to ride to the end of the line.

This station was Rizhskaya. The next was Alekseevskaya.

Again that intense silence,

Always about the same thing,

Today the season opens

At the lepers' club.

That was okay.

I was already on the escalator when I caught the faint scent of power ahead of me. I ran my eyes along the downward escalator and saw the Dark One almost immediately.

No, he wasn't a member of the Day Watch staff; he was carrying himself all wrong for that. He was a low-ranking magician, grade four or five, probably five, and he was concentrating hard, scanning the people around him. Still really young, not much over twenty, in a crumpled jacket that was hanging open, with long, light hair and a handsome face even when it was all tensed up like that.

So what could have pushed you over the edge into the Darkness? What happened before that first time you stepped into the Twilight? An argument with your girlfriend? A quarrel with your parents? Did you flunk your exams in college or get failing grades in school? Did someone stomp on your foot in the trolley?

And the most terrible thing of all is that your appearance hasn't even changed. Maybe you're even better-looking now. Your friends were amazed to discover what a fun guy you turned out to be, how exciting it was to hang out with you. Your girlfriend discovered all sorts of good qualities in you that she hadn't seen before. Your parents were absolutely overjoyed to see how serious and diligent their son had suddenly become. Your professors were delighted with their talented student.

And nobody knows how you make the people around you pay. And just how high the price will be for your kindness, your jokes, and your sympathy.

I closed my eyes and leaned against the moving handrail. I was tired; I was slightly drunk; I wasn't paying any attention to anything, just listening to the music.

The Dark One's gaze slid over me, moving lower, then quivered, and came to a halt.

I hadn't had any time to prepare, to change my appearance or distort my aura. I really hadn't expected the search in the metro would have started already.

A cold, piercing touch, like a gust of icy wind. The young guy was comparing me with the image that must have been distributed to all the Dark Ones in Moscow. He was working clumsily; he'd forgotten about his defenses; he didn't notice my mind slipping along the pathway cleared through the Twilight and touching his thoughts.

Joy. Delight. Rejoicing. Found. The prey. They'll give me part of the prey's power. They'll appreciate this. They'll promote me. Fame. Get my own back. They didn't appreciate me before! Now they'll understand. They'll pay.

I'd been expecting that at least somewhere in some corner of his mind there would be some other thoughts. About me being an enemy. About me killing others like him.

But no. There was nothing. He wasn't thinking of anything but himself.

I withdrew my feelers before the young magician withdrew his own clumsy ones. All right. He didn't possess any great powers; he wouldn't be able to communicate with the Day Watch from inside the metro. And he wouldn't even want to. He thought of me as a cornered animal, and not even a dangerous one—a rabbit, not a wolf.

Bring it on, my young friend.

I walked out of the metro, slipped around to the side of the door, and summoned my shadow. The hazy silhouette shimmered above the ground and I stepped into it.

The Twilight.

People walking by became enveloped in a transparent haze, cars starting crawling along like tortoises, the streetlamps dimmed, their light turned gloomy and oppressive. It was quiet, all sounds reduced to a dull, barely audible rumble.

I'd made my move a bit too early; it would be a while before the magician could get back up after me… But I could feel my own power; I was pumped with it. That must have been Olga's work. While she was in my body she'd regained her former powers and filled it with energy, without using up a single drop of it. She would never even have thought of taking any, no matter how great the temptation might be.

«You'll understand for yourself where the boundary lies»—that's what I'd told Svetlana. Olga had known far better than me where the boundary lies for a long, long time.

I walked along the wall, taking a glance through the concrete at the inclined shaft and the conveyor belts of the escalators. There was a dark spot climbing upward quite rapidly: The magician was in a hurry, running up the steps, but he was still in the human world. Saving his powers. Bring it on, bring it on.

I stopped dead.

There was a small, swirling cloud skimming toward me just above the ground, a clump of mist that had assumed the form of a human figure.

An Other. A former Other.

Maybe it had been one of us. And maybe not. The Dark Ones had to go somewhere when they died. But now it was just a hazy little cloud, an eternal wanderer in the Twilight.

«Peace unto you, fallen one,» I said. «Whoever you may have been.»

The quivering silhouette halted in front of me. A tongue of mist freed itself from its body and extended toward me.

What did it want? The number of times inhabitants of the Twilight had tried to communicate with the living could be counted on the fingers of one hand!

The hand—if it could be called a hand—was trembling. White threads of mist came away from it, dissolving in the Twilight, scattering onto the ground.

«I'm very short of time,» I said. «Fallen one, no matter who you were in life, Dark or Light, peace unto you. What do you want from me?»

A gust of wind seemed to ripple through the coils of white mist. The phantom turned, and the outstretched hand—I no longer had any doubt that it was a hand—pointed through the Twilight toward the northeast. I followed the direction. He was pointing to a needle-slim silhouette glimmering in the sky.

«Yes, the tower, I understand! What does it mean?»