The Night Watch (Watch 1)

'Activate the pest control amulet,' Vitaly said reluctantly. 'If any of the creatures should be observed not to be affected by the action of the amulet, then it should be captured, exercising great care, and handed over to the duty magician for checking.'

'You do know it ... So we're not dealing with a case of forgetfulness here. Have you activated the amulet?' I asked.

The werewolf gave the vampire a sideways glance and then looked away.

'No.'

'I see. Failure to carry out duty instructions. As the senior member of the duty detail, you will be penalised. You will inform the duty officer.'

The werewolf said nothing.

'Repeat what I said, security guard.'

He realised it was stupid to defy me and repeated my words.

'And now get back to serving your watch,' I said and walked to the left, still carrying the sleeping mouse on my open palm.

'Bon appétit,' the werewolf muttered after me. Those creatures have no discipline – the animal half of them is just too strong.

'I hope that in a real battle you would be at least half as brave as this little mouse,' I replied as I got into the lift. I caught Kostya's eye – and it seemed to me that the young vampire was embarrassed, and even glad that the cruel amusement was over.

My appearance in the department with a mouse in my hand caused an uproar.

Anna Lemesheva, the senior witch on our shift, was about to launch into her usual tirade about young people who haven't been taught any discipline – 'Under Stalin for being five minutes late you'd have been packed off to a camp in Kolyma to brew potions' – when she saw the mouse and was struck dumb. Lenka Kireeva squealed and then howled: 'Oh, how lovely'. Zhanna Gromova giggled and asked if I was going to make the 'thief's elixir', which has a boiled mouse as an essential ingredient, and what I was planning to steal afterwards. Olya Melnikova finished painting her nails and congratulated me on a successful hunt.

I put the little creature down on my desk as if I never came to work without a fresh mouse and told everyone how the security guards had been amusing themselves.

Anna shook her head:

'Is that why you were late?'

'Partly,' I said honestly. 'Anna Tikhonovna, I was incredibly unlucky with the traffic. And then there were those nitwits playing their games.'

Anna Lemesheva is an old and experienced witch; it's pointless trying to deceive her by putting on a brave front. She's about a hundred years old, and after all the things she'd seen, the game with the mouse was hardly going to seem cruel. But even so she pursed her lips and declared:

'These werewolves have no respect for the idea of duty. When we were stationed at Revel, fighting the Swedes, we had a saying: "If they send the Watch a werewolf, detail a witch to watch him." What would have happened if an assault group of Light Ones had burst in while both guards were gawping at that rodent? They could have sent the mouse in deliberately. It's disgraceful. I think you should have demanded more serious punishment, Alisa.'

'The lash,' Lenka Kireeva said in a quiet voice. She flicked her head of long red hair. Oh, that hair of Lenka's, anyone would envy it. But the comforting thing is that none of the rest of her is up to the same standard.

'Yes, it was a mistake to end the practice of punishment with the lash,' Anna replied coldly. 'Throw that creature out of the window, Alisa.'

'I feel sorry for it,' I objected. 'It's blockheads like those two who are responsible for the image of Dark Ones that exists in the mass consciousness, a caricature of vicious sadists and monsters . . . Why torment the poor mouse?'

'It does create a certain discharge of energy,' said Olya, screwing the lid onto her nail varnish. 'But it's very i-ny . . .'

She shook her hands in the air.

Zhanna snorted derisively.

'A discharge! They used up so much energy creating the illusory cat, they'd have to torture a kilo of mice to make up for it.'

'We could work it out,' Olya suggested. 'We torture this mouse to death and measure the total power emitted . . . only we'd need a pair of scales as well.'

'You're terrible,' Lena said angrily. 'And you're quite right, Alisa! Can I take the mouse?'

'What for?' I asked jealously.

'To give to my daughter. She's six, it's time she had something to care for and look after. That's good for a girl.'

There was an awkward silence. Of course, it's not so unusual. It's rare for an Other to have a child who is also an Other . . . Very rare. It's simpler for vampires – they can initiate their own child, and it's simpler for shape-shifters – their children almost always inherit the ability to change form. But the chances are not so good for us, or for the Light Ones either. Lena hadn't been lucky, even though her husband was a Dark Magician and a former staff member of the Day Watch, who had retired after he was wounded and become a businessman.

'Mice don't live very long,' Olya observed. 'There'll be tears and tantrums.'

'That's all right, it'll live a long time with me,' Lena laughed. 'Ten years at least. Pavel and I will make sure of that.'

'Then take it!' I said, indicating the mouse with a magnanimous gesture. 'I'll come round to visit some time.'

'Did you put it into a deep sleep?' Lena asked, picking the mouse up by the tail.

'It will sleep until the evening for sure.'

'Good.'

She carried the mouse to her desk, shook the floppy disks out of a cardboard box and put the little creature in it.

'Buy a cage,' Olga advised as she admired her nails. 'Or an aquarium. If it escapes it will gnaw everything to pieces and leave filthy droppings everywhere.'

Anna Lemesheva had followed the conversation thoughtfully and then clapped her hands.

'All right, girls. That's enough distraction. The unfortunate creature has been saved and it has found a new home. Things could hardly have been resolved more elegantly. Now let's begin our briefing.'

She's a very strict boss, but not malicious. She doesn't make things hard for anyone for no reason, and she'll let you fool about, or leave early if necessary. But when it comes to work, it's best not to argue with her.

The girls all sat in their places. Our room is small; after all, the building wasn't meant for the present numbers of the Watch. All that could fit were four small tables for us and one big desk, where Anna Lemesheva sat. The room reminded me of a school class- room in some tiny village somewhere, with a class of four pupils and one teacher.

Lemesheva waited until we'd all switched on our computers and accessed the network; then she began in her resonant voice:

'Today's assignment is the usual: patrolling the south-east region of Moscow. You will choose your partners in the guardroom from among the available operatives.'

We always go on duty in pairs, usually one witch and one shape-shifter or vampire. If the level of patrols is stepped up, then instead of ordinary operatives they give us warlocks or some of the junior magicians as partners. But that doesn't happen very often.

'Lenochka, you're patrolling Vykhino and Liublino.'

Lena Kireeva, who had stealthily begun playing patience on her computer, started and prepared to argue. I could understand why. Two huge districts and a long way away too. Nothing would come of it, of course. Anna Lemesheva would insist on having her own way as always, but Kireeva couldn't help feeling indignant.

But just at that moment the phone on Lemesheva's desk rang. We exchanged glances, and even Lena's eyes became serious. It was the direct line from the operations duty officer, it didn't just ring for nothing.

'Yes,' said Lemesheva. 'Yes. Of course. I understand. I accept the detail.'

For a moment her expression became vague – the duty magician was sending her a telepathic briefing on the situation.

That meant it was serious, that there was work to do.

'To your brooms . . .' Lenka whispered quietly. The line, from a children's cartoon, was a traditional saying with us. 'I wonder who they'll send,' she said.

But when Anna Lemesheva put the receiver down, her expression was firm and tough.

'Into the bus, girls. Everyone. Look lively.'

So much for 'to your brooms'.

This meant something very serious. This meant a fight.