When I had already reached the door, I added, “Oh yes, by the way, we’re used to flying first class!”

“Be grateful if I don’t send you as baggage,” Foma replied in the same tone of voice. Then he turned and walked back to his colleagues.

“YOU KNOW, THAT’S A REALLY BAD MOVE, TO TELL SOMEONE YOU fought side by side with that you’ll meet again later,” Semyon declared somberly. “He hasn’t got a single free moment to see me. And now we’re flying back home, like real ninnies. If we had just a week…we could have gone to the lochs, done a bit of fishing…”

“Semyon, the Inquisition will arrive any minute-we’d be stuck here for a month.”

“So, what’s wrong with that?”

“I’m a family man.”

“Oh, that’s right…,” Semyon said with a sigh. “With a little daughter… Is she walking yet?”

“Semyon, stop playing the fool!”

We stopped in front of the hotel entrance. Semyon chuckled and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Er…how much time have we got?”

“Five or six hours. If the tickets are for the evening flight.”

“I’ll just drop into a shop and buy a few souvenirs. Shall I get some for you?”

“What, exactly?”

“What sort of question’s that? Whisky and scarves. Whisky for the men and scarves for the women. I usually get five of each.”

“Go on, then,” I said, waving him away. “But get me a child’s scarf too, if you see one. Something bright and cheerful.”

“Definitely.”

I walked into the hotel lobby. The receptionist was not at his desk, but there was an envelope lying there with my name written on it in large letters. Inside were three first-class tickets-for me, Semyon, and Galya Dobronravova. Foma had acted with incredible efficiency, and he hadn’t even forgotten about the wolf-girl.

I knocked on the door of the Dark suite on the fourth floor. No response. I listened and heard the sound of water flowing somewhere inside. I took Galya’s ticket out of the envelope and pushed it under the door.

I found the key in my pocket and went into my own suite.

“Slowly-slowly-go-over-to-the-armchair-and-sit-down,” a voice said at incredible speed. It was the young red-haired guy who had introduced himself to me as Jean in the Dungeons of Scotland.

He had positioned himself perfectly-at the window, with the blinding sunlight pouring in through it. My shadow was behind me: There was no way I could plunge into it.

“Start-moving-toward-the-armchair-slowly-slowly,” the young guy rattled off.

He was accelerated, enveloped in the green glow emanating from the amulet on his arm. It looked like an ordinary woven bead trinket, the kind that hippies make. His reflexes now were many times faster than those of a normal human being. And since he was holding an Uzi automatic rifle and its magazine of charmed bullets was glowing bright red, it would have been unwise of me to object.

“Speak more clearly,” I said, walking over to the chair and sitting in it. “Since you didn’t kill me straightaway, there must be something to talk about.”

“You’re-wrong-wizard,” the young guy said.

I thought it was funny, his childish use of “wizard.”

“I-was-ordered-to-kill-you-but-there’s-something-I-want-toask-you.”

“Ask away.”

I needed my shadow. I needed to turn my head, see my shadow, and dive into the Twilight. I would be faster than him there.

“Don’t-turn-your-head! If-you-look-at-your-shadow-I’ll-shoot-straightaway. How-many-of-you-are-there?”

“What?”

“How-many-brutes-like-you-are-there-walking-the-earth?”

“Well…” I thought for a moment. “Do you mean Light Ones or Dark Ones?”

“It-doesn’t-matter.”

“Approx…imate…ly…one…in…every…ten…thou…sand…,” I drawled slowly. Not to be a wise guy, but to try to convince this young fellow that he was speeded up too far. But then, was he even able to control the effect of the charm?

“Bastards-I-hate-them,” he said, as quickly as ever. “I-was-told-to-say-you-betrayed-a-friend-and-deserve-to-die…”

There was a knock at the door. The young guy’s glance darted in that direction and then back to me. In a single movement he pulled the tablecloth off the table and covered his automatic rifle, which was still trained on me. He said, “Open-it!”

“Who’s there? It’s open!” I shouted.

If it was Semyon, we’d have a chance.

The door opened and Galya walked in. The way she looked simply took my breath away. A short little black skirt, an almost transparent pink top-she would have had Lolita smoking nervously in the corner.

Jean was dumbstruck too.

“Hi.” The girl was chewing something. She concentrated and blew out a huge bubble of gum. The bubble burst and Jean jumped, startled. I was afraid he would start blasting away, but the moment passed safely. “And who are you?” she asked.

She gave Jean a look that made him blush bright red. He managed to jabber and mumble at the same time: “I’m-just-visiting.”

“Well, friends of Anthony’s get a discount,” Galya said, and winked at the young man. She walked up to me, swaying her hips, and said, “I left my knickers in your place, did you find them?”

All I could do was shake my head.

“Ah, screw them anyway,” Galya declared. And she began slowly leaning down, reaching out for my lips with her own, giving Jean a chance to stare…I daren’t even think at what!

But he stared.

“Get ready,” Galya whispered. The girl’s eyes were serious and tense. But she still touched my lips-and sparks of mischief glinted in her eyes.

She transformed instantly into a she-wolf. Crudely, horribly, scattering drops of blood and scraps of skin around her, wasting no time on morphing properly. Then she flung herself around and leaped at the killer like a shaggy black shadow.

He started to shoot at the same moment that I flung two Triple Blades, one after another.

The first cut off the hand that had been holding the gun and also gouged out a chunk of his body. I didn’t realize where the second blade had gone at first. I leaped to my feet and jumped toward the she-wolf writhing on the floor. Her body had taken all the bullets that were intended for me. Not very many-only five or six. If only they hadn’t been charmed.

Jean stood up, swaying on his feet. He looked at me with wild, insane eyes.

“Who sent you?” I shouted, hitting him with a Domination, the spell of absolute obedience.

Jean shuddered and tried to open his mouth-and his head flew apart into three pieces. So now I knew where my second blade had hit him.

The body swayed and slumped to the floor beside the wolf-girl. Blood pulsed out of its arteries.

If she had been a vampire, and not a werewolf…

I leaned down over her and saw that she was transforming back into a human being.

“Don’t you dare! You’ll die!”

“I’ll die anyway,” she said in a clear voice. “I don’t want to die…as an animal…”

“You’re not…”

Instantly there was a note of irony in her voice. “Silly…Light One…”

I stood up. My hands were covered in blood and there was blood squelching under my feet. The killer’s headless body was shuddering convulsively.

“What’s happening here-” Semyon froze in the doorway. He ran his hand over his face and swore.

His other hand was holding two plastic bags. One had bottles in it. The other probably had scarves.

“What’s happening? Nothing,” I said, looking at the dead girl. “It’s all over.”

I bought the magnet for Zabulon in Edinburgh Airport while Lermont and Semyon were rebooking the tickets. We now only needed two seats in the cabin of the plane and one ticket for an item of nonstandard freight-a long wooden box that had been treated with spells. One of them was to protect the contents against decomposition. Another was to persuade the customs men that there was no need to check the box, since it was being used to transport harmless skis.