And he would have scampered around that little soccer field, yelling and kicking the ball, and hissing at the teenagers' clumsy attempts to swear: "Hey, watch your lip, kid!" Afterward he would have gone to the beach, and splashed about in the muddy water, and laid on the grass, looking up at the sky…

Where was it, that dividing line? Okay, with the lower Dark Ones, everything was clear. They were non-life. They had to kill in order to survive. And there was nothing any verbal gymnastics could do about that. They were evil.

But where was the real boundary?

And why was it sometimes ready to disappear? For instance, at a moment when the only problem was one single human being who wanted to become an Other? Just one, that was all! But just look at the resources that had been thrown into the search. Dark Ones, Light Ones, the Inquisition… And I wasn't the only one working on this business, I was just a pawn who had been advanced, carrying out local reconnaissance work. Gesar was wrinkling his forehead, Zabulon was knitting his brows, Witezslav was scowling and baring those teeth. A human wanted to become an Other-hunt him down, get him!

But who wouldn't want it?

Not the eternal hunger of the vampires, not the insane fits of the werewolves, but the full, complete life of a magician. With everything that ordinary people had.

Only better.

You're not afraid anyone will steal the expensive music system out of your car when you leave it unwatched.

You don't get sick with flu, and if you come down with some vile incurable disease, the Dark Sorcerers or the Light Healers are at your service.

You don't wonder how you're going to survive until payday.

You don't feel afraid of dark streets at night or drunken bums.

You're not even afraid of the militia.

You're certain your child will get home safely from school and not run into some crazy maniac in the front hallway…

Yes, of course, that was where the real problem lay. Your nearest and dearest were safe, they were even excluded from the vampire lottery. Only you couldn't save them from old age and death.

But after all, that was still a long way off. Somewhere way off in the future, far ahead.

On the whole it was far more pleasant to be an Other.

And then again, you wouldn't gain anything if you refused initiation, even your human relatives would be right to call you a fool. After all, if you became an Other, you'd be able to help them out. Like that story of Semyon's… someone put a hex on a peasant's cows, and his Other son had an investigator sent in to help him. Blood was thicker than water, after all; your own flesh and blood was dearest. There was nothing to be done…

I jerked upright as if I'd been electrified. I jumped to my feet and stared up at the Assol complex.

What reason could a Light Magician have for making a rash promise to do absolutely anything?

There was only one reason!

That was it, the lead!

"Have you come up with something, Anton?" a voice asked behind my back.

I turned around and looked into the black lenses of Kostya's glasses. He was wearing just bathing trunks, the appropriate attire for the beach, apart from the child's white panama hat perched on the back of his head like a skullcap (no doubt he'd taken it away from some little toddler without any qualms of conscience) and the dark glasses.

"Finding the sun hot?" I asked spitefully.

"It's oppressive. Hanging up there in the sky like a flatiron… Why, aren't you feeling hot?"

"Sure," I admitted. "But it's a different kind of heat."

"Can we manage without the sarcasm?" Kostya asked. He sat down on the sand and fastidiously tossed aside a cigarette butt from near his feet. "I only go swimming at night now. But this time I came… to have a word with you."

I felt ashamed. The person sitting in front of me was a moody young man-it made no difference that he was undead. And I still remembered the gloomy teenager hovering uncertainly at the door of my apartment. "You shouldn't invite me in, I'm a vampire, I could come in the night and bite you…"

And that boy had held out for a pretty long time. He'd drunk pig's blood and donor's blood. He'd dreamed of becoming alive again. "Like Pinocchio,"-he must have read Collodi or seen the movie AI, but anyway he'd found the right comparison.

If only Gesar hadn't detailed me to hunt vampires…

No, that was nonsense. Nature would have taken its course. And Kostya would have been given his license.

In any case I had no right to scoff at him. I had one huge advantage-I was alive.

I could approach old people without feeling ashamed. Yes, without any shame-because Witezslav hadn't been honest with me. It wasn't fear or revulsion that had made him avoid the old woman.

It was shame.

"Sorry, Kostya," I said and lay down on the sand beside him. "Let's talk."

"It seems to me that the permanent residents at Assol have nothing to do with it," Kostya began gloomily. "The client is one of those who are only there occasionally."

"We'll have to check them all," I said with a phony sigh.

"That's only the start. We have to look for the traitor."

"We are looking."

"I can see the way you're looking… Realized that he's one of yours, have you?"

"How do you make that out?" I protested indignantly. "Some Dark One could quite easily have blundered…"

We discussed the situation for a while. We seemed to have reached the same conclusions simultaneously.

Only now I was just half a step ahead. And I had no intention of helping Kostya out.

"The letter was posted in the heap of letters that builder brought to the post office," said Kostya, not suspecting how cunning I was being. "Nothing could be easier. All those Gastarbeiters live in an old school, they use it as a hostel. They put all their letters on the attendant's table on the first floor. In the morning someone goes to the post office and posts them. It would be no problem for an Other to get into the hostel and divert the attendant's attention… or simply wait for him to go to the john. Then drop the letter into the general pile. And there you go! No leads."

"Simple and effective," I agreed.

"In the Light Ones' style," Kostya said with a frown. "Get someone else to do the dirty work for you."

For some reason I didn't take offense. I just smiled mockingly and turned over on to my back, looking up at the sky and the lovely yellow sun.

"Okay, we do the same…" Kostya muttered.

I didn't say anything.

"Come on, tell me, haven't you ever used people for your operations?" Kostya protested indignantly.

"Sometimes. Used, but never put them in danger."

"And in this case the Other hasn't put anyone in danger, only used them," Kostya said off the point, completely forgetting his comment about the "dirty work."

"What I'm wondering is… does it make any sense to follow this trail any further? So far the traitor has covered all his tracks very thoroughly. We'll end up chasing a phantom…"

"They say a couple of days ago two security guards at the Assol complex thought they saw something ghastly in the bushes," I said. "They even opened fire."

Kostya's eyes blazed. "Have you already checked it out?"

"No," I said. "I'm shielded, undercover, there's no way I can."

"Is it okay if I check it out?" Kostya asked eagerly. "Listen, I'll mention that it was you…"

"Go ahead," I said magnanimously.

"Thanks, Anton," said Kostya, breaking into a broad smile and giving me a hefty punch to the shoulder. "You're a decent guy after all. Thanks."

"Do a good job," I couldn't resist saying, "and maybe you'll get another license ahead of the line."

Kostya fell silent and his face turned sour. He stared hard at the river.

"How many people did you kill to become a Higher Vampire?" I asked.