The Twilight Watch Read Online Free PDF Page A

they'd initiated their child too.
There was nothing really sinister about them, though. No nocturnal
hunting, no applications for licences, they respected the law and
drank pig's blood and donors' blood. And so, like a fool, I let my
defences down and became friends with them. I used to go round
to see them and even invited them to my apartment. They ate
the food I'd cooked, and praised it . . . and, idiot that I was, I
didn't realise that human food is tasteless to them, that they are
tormented by an ancient, eternal hunger. The little vampire kid
even decided that he was going to be a biologist and discover a
cure for vampirism . . .
    Then I killed my first vampire.
    And after that Kostya joined the Day Watch. I didn't know if
he'd ever graduated from his biology faculty, but he'd certainly
shed his childish illusions.
    And he'd started receiving licences to kill. Rise to the level of
a Higher Vampire in three years? He must have had help. All the
resources of the Day Watch must have been brought to bear so
that the nice young lad Kostya could sink his fangs into human
necks over and over again . . .
    And I had a pretty good idea who had helped him.
    'What do you think, Anton?' said Gesar. 'In the given situation,
who should we appoint as the investigator from our side?'
    I took my mobile out of my pocket and dialled Svetlana's number.

CHAPTER 2
    I N OUR LINE of business you don't often get to work undercover.
    In the first place, you have to completely disguise your nature as
an Other, so that nothing gives you away, not your aura, or any streams
of power, or any disturbances in the Twilight. And the situation is
quite simple – if you're a fifth-grade magician, then you won't be
discovered by magicians weaker than you, those who are sixth- and
seventh-grade. If you're a first-grade magician, then you're concealed
from the second grade and below. If you're a magician beyond classification
. . .well, then you can hope that no one will recognise you.
    I was disguised by Gesar himself, immediately after speaking to
Svetlana. The conversation was brief, but painful. We didn't quarrel.
She was just very upset.
    And in the second place, you need a cover story. The simplest
way to provide a cover story is by magical means – people you
don't know will gladly believe you're their brother, their son-in-law's
father or the army buddy they drank home brew with when
they went absent without leave. But a magical cover story will
leave traces that any reasonably powerful Other can spot.
    So there was no magic involved in my cover story. Gesar handed
me the keys to an apartment in the Assol complex – a hundred and
fifty square metres of floor space on the eighth floor. It was registered
in my name and had been bought six months earlier. When I
opened my eyes wide at that, Gesar explained that the documents
had been signed that morning, but backdated. For big money. And
the apartment would have to be handed back afterwards.
    I got the keys to a BMW just to add substance to my story. It
wasn't a new car, or the most luxurious model, but then my apartment
was a small one.
    Then a tailor came into the office, a mournful little old Jewish
man, a seventh-grade Other. He took my measurements, promised
the suit would be ready by the evening, when, he assured us,
'this boy will start to look like a man'. Gesar was extremely polite
to the tailor, opening the door for him and seeing him out into
the reception. As he said goodbye, he asked timidly how his 'little
coat' was coming on. The tailor told him there was no need to
worry. A coat worthy of the Most Lucent Gesar would be ready
before the cold weather set in.
    After hearing that, I wasn't as delighted as I had been at first
with the decision that I could keep my suit. The tailor clearly
didn't make genuine, top-quality garments in half a day.
    Gesar himself provided me with ties. He even taught me a
particularly fashionable knot. Then he gave me a wad of banknotes
and the address of a shop