In the East, though, there were devas. Or rather, it was believed that there were. Essentially, they’re golems too, only without any material basis-animated clumps of the Twilight, intertwined vortices of Power. According to legend, creating such a deva (the Arabs usually called them genies) was regarded as an examination that a magician had to pass to be acknowledged as Higher Level. First you had to create the deva, then you had to subordinate it to your will. Some were eliminated at the first stage, but a far sadder fate awaited those who screwed things up at the second.

I thought devas were creatures of legend. Or, at the very most, an extremely rare experiment that one of the greatest magicians of antiquity had managed to pull off once or twice. And even less did I imagine that devas still existed in our own times. However, the members of the local Watches seemed to believe in them.

Only, they didn’t have the Power to spot a deva approaching.

The young Dark One-I never did learn his name-screamed and started flailing his arms about, as if he was trying to fight off something invisible. He was lifted up off the ground and carried through the air until he stopped, shouting and squirming, from as high up as a two-story house. I shuddered as I watched the Dark One’s sides collapse as if from the pressure of a gigantic hand, and his clothes start to char. His scream became a feeble wheeze.

And then a bloody streak appeared on the Dark One’s body in the form of an arc. A moment later the dead body fell to the ground, cut-or rather, bitten-right through.

“Shields!” Alisher shouted.

I didn’t increase the strength of my own Shield. In the first place, I didn’t know if it would be any use to me against the deva. And in the second, I was the only one who could stand up to the creature.

I instantly sank down to the second level of the Twilight.

And immediately I saw the deva.

The flexible body woven out of plumes of fire and smoke really did resemble a mythical genie. The predominant color was gray-even the petals of flame were blackish-gray, with just the faintest hint of crimson. The deva didn’t have any legs; its torso narrowed and became a snake’s body that writhed as it moved along. The ground underneath it steamed like damp laundry under an iron. The head, the arms, and even the genitals that protruded absurdly from the serpentine half appeared completely human. But they were huge-the deva stood five or five and a half meters tall-and they were made of smoke and flame. The eyes blazed with a scarlet fire-the only bright detail on its body-or in the entire second level of the Twilight.

The deva saw me too-just at the moment when it was reaching its hand out for Valentina. The monster howled in glee and came skidding toward me with surprising agility. What was this crazy reptile trend? A two-headed snake golem in Scotland, and now a half-snake, half-man deva in Uzbekistan.

Just as a test, I threw a Fireball at the deva. It had absolutely no effect; the bundle of flames simply dissolved in the monster’s body. Then I tried a Triple Blade. The deva winced, but it didn’t slow down.

All right, then…

I allowed the Power to flow through my arm and created a White Sword. I was probably influenced by Murat’s final action, but it was a mistake to follow the Uzbek magician’s example: The white blade easily sliced through the deva’s body, but without causing it any harm. There was no time to ponder the reasons for this failure. The deva swung its arm back and struck out with its hand. I managed to jump back, but a cunning thrust with the tail caught me by surprise and I was sent tumbling across the ground. The deva advanced on me, laughing triumphantly, but I couldn’t get up. Strangely enough, I didn’t even feel afraid. All I felt was revulsion at the sight of the monster’s penis rising into an erection. The deva clutched his penis in one hand and began waggling it about, either masturbating or preparing to use it to pummel me with. What was this? Was I supposed to die of a blow from some brainless monster’s dick? I didn’t try to create another White Sword. I gathered Power into the palm of my hand and struck out at the deva with the sign of Thanatos.

The deva flinched and scratched his chest with his free hand where the blow had landed. Thin streams of smoke curled and twisted like hairs behind his open palm. Then the deva started roaring with laughter, still clutching his male member, which had grown to the size of a baseball bat by this point. The deva radiated heat-not living warmth, but hot air, the same as a blazing bonfire gives off.

He wasn’t so brainless after all. I was far more stupid, striking with the sign of death at a being that wasn’t even alive.

“Ai, you Satan, you mangy dog, vicious offspring of a sick tapeworm!” I heard someone shout from behind the deva. Old man Afandi had somehow managed to enter the second level of the Twilight! And not only that-he had taken a firm grip of the deva’s tail and was trying to drag it away from me!

The monster turned around slowly, as if it couldn’t believe that anyone would dare to treat it with such contempt. It stopped scratching and raised its massive hand above the old man’s head in a clenched fist. It would drive him into the ground up to his ears!

I frantically sifted through the clutter that had accumulated in my head. Everything to do with golems, from the first classes to the tall tales I’d heard from Semyon. The deva was just another golem. Golems could be destroyed! Golem…golems…cabbalistic golems, golems with goals and free will, golems for fun and amusement, wooden golems…the impossibility of creating a plastic golem…Olga had once told me…a skill that no one needed anymore…the spell wasn’t that difficult in principle, but it took a lot of Power…

“Dust and Ashes,” I shouted, throwing out one hand toward the deva.

Now everything depended on whether I’d made the sign correctly. The standard position widely used in magical passes, with the thumb gripped between the next two fingers, but with the little finger extended forward, parallel to the thumb. That month of training in stretching our fingers had certainly been well spent. We would be the envy of any pianist…

The monster froze and then slowly turned around to face me. The red light in its eyes went out and the deva began whining shrilly like a puppy dog whose paw has been stepped on. The deva opened its hand and the penis fell off and shattered in a heap of sparks, like a firebrand that has flown out of a bonfire. Then the fingers on its hands started crumbling away. The deva had stopped whining now; it was sobbing, reaching its fingerless hands out toward me and shaking its head with the blind eyes.

That was how the great magicians of the East used to subdue them…

I held the position with the sign of Dust and Ashes, allowing the Power to flow through me, on and on, for about three minutes in second-level Twilight time, until the deva was finally reduced to a handful of ash.

“Cold, isn’t it?” said Afandi, hopping up and down. He walked up to the remains of the deva, held out his hands, and rubbed them together as he warmed them. Then he spat on the ash and muttered, “Ugh, you son of evil and father of abomination…”

“Thank you, Afandi,” I said as I got up off the frosty ground. It really was terribly cold on the second level. At least by some miracle I’d managed not to lose the bag with my things-it was still hanging on my shoulder. Although…perhaps the miracle in question was an affinity spell cast on the bag by Svetlana? “Thank you, Granddad. Let’s get you out of this place. It’s hard for you to stay down here for very long.”

“Ai, thanks, O mighty warrior,” said Afandi, beaming. “You thanked me? I shall take pride in that for the rest of my pointless life! The vanquisher of a deva has praised me!”