The Night Watch Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Sergei Lukyanenko
vampire's like. These modern ones are mere mosquitoes compared with some Nosferatu. And with all the airs he put on, he still wasn't one of the best… So the boy must be found, examined, and, if possible, taken into the Watch. We have no right to let him go over to the Dark Side; the balance of power inMoscow would totally collapse."
"Is that an order?"
"Given under license," the boss said darkly. "I have the right to issue that kind of order, you know that."
"Yes, I know," I said quietly. "But where do I begin? That is, which one do I begin with?"
"Whoever you like. I'd say with the girl. But try to find the boy too."
"Shall I go now?"
"Catch up on your sleep first."
"I slept long enough, Boris Ignatievich…"
"I doubt it. I'd recommend an hour at least."
I didn't understand. I'd got up at eleven and dashed straight to the office. I felt perfectly fresh and full of energy.
Page 22
"Here's someone to help you." The boss flicked the stuffed owl with his finger. The bird stretched out its wings and started screeching indignantly.
I swallowed hard and risked a question:
"Who is it? Or what is it?"
"Why do you need to know?" asked the boss, looking into the owl's eyes.
"To decide whether I want to work with it!"
The owl glared at me and hissed like an enraged cat.
"That's the wrong way of putting it," said the boss, shaking his head. "Will she agree to work with you, that's the real question."
The owl started screeching again.
"Yes," said the boss, talking to the bird now, not to me. "There's a lot of truth in what you say. But who was it that requested a new appeal?"
The bird froze.
"I promise I'll intercede for you. And this time there is a chance."
"Boris Ignatievich, in my opinion…" I began.
"I'm sorry, Anton, that doesn't bother me…" The boss stretched out his arm; the owl took a clumsy stride with its fluffy legs and stood on his open hand. "You don't know just how lucky you are." I didn't answer that. The boss went across to the window, opened it wide, and stuck his hand out. The owl flapped its wings and went hurtling downward, moving really well for a stuffed dummy.
"Where has… it… gone?"
"To your place. You'll be working as partners…" The boss rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Oh yes!
Don't forget, her name's Olga."
"The owl?"
"The owl. Feed her and take care of her and everything will be fine. And now… get a bit of sleep. No need to come into the office when you get up; wait for Olga to arrive and get on with the job. Check out the circle line in the metro, for instance…"
"How can I get back to sleep…" I began. But the world around me was already turning dim, fading away, dissolving. The corner of a pillow jutted painfully into my cheek.
I was lying in my own bed.
My head felt heavy; my eyes were full of sand. My throat felt parched and painful. Page 23
"Agh…" I gasped hoarsely, turning over onto my back. Through the heavy curtains I couldn't see whether it was still night or the day was well advanced. I squinted at the clock: The glowing figures showed eight.
It was the first time I'd been granted an audience with the boss in my sleep. It's not a very pleasant business, especially for the boss—he must have broken through into my mind. Time must really be short if he'd decided it was necessary to hold his briefing in the world of dreams. And it had all seemed much more real than I would have expected. The mission analysis, that stupid owl…
The sound of tapping on the window made me start. A rapid, gentle tapping that sounded like claws. I heard a muffled screeching.
But what else was I really expecting?
I jumped up, adjusted my shorts awkwardly, and hurried across to the window. All the garbage that I'd swallowed as part of the preparation for the hunt was still affecting me, and I could distinguish the outlines of objects quite clearly.
I tore the curtains aside and raised the blind.
The owl was sitting on the windowsill, screwing up its eyes—indeed, the sun
"Is that an order?"
"Given under license," the boss said darkly. "I have the right to issue that kind of order, you know that."
"Yes, I know," I said quietly. "But where do I begin? That is, which one do I begin with?"
"Whoever you like. I'd say with the girl. But try to find the boy too."
"Shall I go now?"
"Catch up on your sleep first."
"I slept long enough, Boris Ignatievich…"
"I doubt it. I'd recommend an hour at least."
I didn't understand. I'd got up at eleven and dashed straight to the office. I felt perfectly fresh and full of energy.
Page 22
"Here's someone to help you." The boss flicked the stuffed owl with his finger. The bird stretched out its wings and started screeching indignantly.
I swallowed hard and risked a question:
"Who is it? Or what is it?"
"Why do you need to know?" asked the boss, looking into the owl's eyes.
"To decide whether I want to work with it!"
The owl glared at me and hissed like an enraged cat.
"That's the wrong way of putting it," said the boss, shaking his head. "Will she agree to work with you, that's the real question."
The owl started screeching again.
"Yes," said the boss, talking to the bird now, not to me. "There's a lot of truth in what you say. But who was it that requested a new appeal?"
The bird froze.
"I promise I'll intercede for you. And this time there is a chance."
"Boris Ignatievich, in my opinion…" I began.
"I'm sorry, Anton, that doesn't bother me…" The boss stretched out his arm; the owl took a clumsy stride with its fluffy legs and stood on his open hand. "You don't know just how lucky you are." I didn't answer that. The boss went across to the window, opened it wide, and stuck his hand out. The owl flapped its wings and went hurtling downward, moving really well for a stuffed dummy.
"Where has… it… gone?"
"To your place. You'll be working as partners…" The boss rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Oh yes!
Don't forget, her name's Olga."
"The owl?"
"The owl. Feed her and take care of her and everything will be fine. And now… get a bit of sleep. No need to come into the office when you get up; wait for Olga to arrive and get on with the job. Check out the circle line in the metro, for instance…"
"How can I get back to sleep…" I began. But the world around me was already turning dim, fading away, dissolving. The corner of a pillow jutted painfully into my cheek.
I was lying in my own bed.
My head felt heavy; my eyes were full of sand. My throat felt parched and painful. Page 23
"Agh…" I gasped hoarsely, turning over onto my back. Through the heavy curtains I couldn't see whether it was still night or the day was well advanced. I squinted at the clock: The glowing figures showed eight.
It was the first time I'd been granted an audience with the boss in my sleep. It's not a very pleasant business, especially for the boss—he must have broken through into my mind. Time must really be short if he'd decided it was necessary to hold his briefing in the world of dreams. And it had all seemed much more real than I would have expected. The mission analysis, that stupid owl…
The sound of tapping on the window made me start. A rapid, gentle tapping that sounded like claws. I heard a muffled screeching.
But what else was I really expecting?
I jumped up, adjusted my shorts awkwardly, and hurried across to the window. All the garbage that I'd swallowed as part of the preparation for the hunt was still affecting me, and I could distinguish the outlines of objects quite clearly.
I tore the curtains aside and raised the blind.
The owl was sitting on the windowsill, screwing up its eyes—indeed, the sun
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