Egor didn't want to go out. When his parents left to go to work and the door slammed behind them, he felt the fear immediately. And he knew that outside the empty apartment the fear would turn into terror.
There was nothing that could save him. Nothing anywhere. But at least his home gave him the illusion of safety.
Last night the world had crumbled, completely collapsed. Egor had always admitted quite openly – at least to himself, if not to others – that he wasn't really brave. But he wasn't exactly a coward either. There 'were some things it was only right to be afraid of: young thugs, maniacs, terrorists, disasters, fires, wars, deadly diseases. He thought of them all lumped together – and all equally distant. All these things really did exist, but at the same time they remained beyond his everyday experience. Follow simple rules, don't wander the streets at night, don't go into unfamiliar districts, wash your hands before eating, don't jump on the railway lines. It was possible to be afraid of unpleasant things and at the same time know there wasn't much chance they would mess up your life.
Now everything had changed.
There were some things you couldn't hide from. Things that shouldn't exist, that couldn't exist.
But vampires did exist.
He remembered it all distinctly, the horror hadn't wiped his memory clean, the way he'd vaguely hoped it would yesterday, when he was running home, breaking the rules by running across the street without looking. And his timid hope that in the morning everything that had happened would turn out to be a dream had proved wrong too.
It was all true. It couldn't possibly be true, but it was . . .
It had happened yesterday. It had happened to him.
He'd been late coming home, sure, but he'd come home later than that before. Even his parents who, Egor was quite certain, hadn't realised yet that he was almost thirteen, thought nothing of it.
When he left the swimming pool with the other guys . . . yes, it was ten o'clock already. They'd all piled into McDonald's and sat there for about twenty minutes. That was the usual thing too, after training everyone who could afford it went to McDonald's. Then . . . then they all walked to the metro together. It wasn't far. Along a brightly lit street. Eight of them together.
Everything was still fine then.
It was in the metro that he'd started feeling uneasy. He looked at his watch, stared round at the other passengers. But there was nothing suspicious.
Except that Egor could hear music.
And then things that couldn't happen had started happening.
Without knowing why, he'd turned into a dark, stinking alleyway. He'd walked up to a girl and a young guy who were waiting for him. They'd lured him there. And he offered his own neck to the girl, to her long, sharp fangs that weren't even human.
Even now, at home on his own, Egor could feel that chill – that sweet, enticing tingle running across his skin. He'd wanted it to happen! He'd been afraid, but he'd wanted the touch of the gleaming fangs, the sharp, short pain, and then . . . and then . . . there'd be something else . . . there had to be . . .
And no one in the whole world could help him. Egor remembered the way the woman who was walking her dogs had looked straight through him. An alert glance, not at all indifferent – she hadn't been frightened, she simply couldn't see what was happening. Egor had only been saved by the third vampire turning up. That pale guy with the walkman who'd started trailing him back in the metro. They'd fought over him the way hungry, full-grown wolves quarrel over a deer they've cornered but not killed yet.
Then everything had got confused, it all happened too fast. Someone had shouted something about some watch or other, about the twilight. There was a flash of blue light, and one vampire just crumbled into dust right there in front of his eyes, just like in the movies. The girl was howling because she'd had something splashed into her face.
Then he'd fled in panic . . .
And now he realised something terrible, even more terrible than what had happened: he couldn't tell anyone anything. They wouldn't believe him. They wouldn't understand.
Vampires don't exist.
It's not possible to look straight through people and not see them.
Nobody just burns up in a swirl of blue flame, and turns into a dried mummy, a skeleton, a handful of ash.
'They do!' Egor told himself. 'They do exist. It is possible. It does happen!'
But even he could hardly believe it . . .
Egor didn't go to school, but he did clean up the apartment. He wanted to do something. Several times he went across to the window and looked carefully round the yard.
Nothing suspicious.
But would he be able to see them?
They would come. Egor didn't doubt it for a second. They knew he remembered them. Now they would kill him, because he was a witness.
But they wouldn't just kill him. They'd drink his blood and turn him into a vampire!
The boy walked over to the bookshelf, where half the shelves were filled with videos. Maybe he could look for advice here. Dracula. Dead and Loving It – no, that was comedy. Once Bitten – total garbage. Night of Terror . . . Egor shuddered. He remembered that film. And now he'd never dare watch it again. What was the line? 'A crucifix helps, if you believe in it.'
But how could a crucifix help him? He wasn't even baptised. And he didn't believe in God. At least, he hadn't believed before.
Maybe he ought to start now.
If vampires existed, then so did the devil, and if the devil existed, then did God too?
If vampires existed, then so did God?
If Evil existed, then so did Good?
'It's all rubbish,' said Egor. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans, went out into the hallway and looked in the mirror. He saw his reflection. A bit miserable-looking, perhaps, but just a normal kid. That meant everything was still okay, so far. They hadn't managed to bite him.
Just to make sure, he twisted this way and that, trying to see the back of his neck. No, there were no marks, nothing. Just a skinny neck, maybe not too clean . . .
The idea suddenly hit him. Egor ran into the kitchen, frightening the cat off its comfortable spot on top of the washing machine. He started rummaging through bags of potatoes, onions and carrots.
There it was, the garlic.
Egor hastily peeled an entire head and started chewing it. The garlic was fierce, it burned his mouth. Egor poured a glass of tea and started taking a mouthful after every clove. It didn't help much, his tongue was on fire and his gums itched. But it was sure to help, wasn't it?
The cat looked back into the kitchen, its eyes wide with apparent amazement, gave a disappointed miaow and stalked away, as if it couldn't understand how anyone could eat anything so disgusting.
Egor chewed up the last two cloves, spat them out into his palm and started rubbing them on his neck. He could have laughed at himself for doing it, but he wasn't going to stop now.
His neck started to sting too – it was good garlic. A single breath would be the end of any vampire.
The cat began howling restlessly in the hallway. Egor pricked up his ears and peered out of the kitchen. No, nothing there. The door was secured with three locks and a chain.
'Stop that noise, Grey!' he told the cat sternly. 'Or I'll make you eat garlic too.'
The cat took the threat seriously and raced into the parents' bedroom. What else could he do? Silver was supposed to help. Egor frightened the cat again by going into the bedroom, opening the wardrobe and taking his mother's jewellery box out from under the sheets and towels. He took out a silver chain and put it on. It would smell of garlic, and he'd have to take it off before evening. Maybe he should empty his moneybox and buy himself a chain. With a crucifix. And wear it all the time. Say he'd started believing in God. Didn't it happen sometimes that people didn't believe for a long, long time, and then suddenly started believing after all?
He walked across the sitting room, sat down with his feet up on the sofa and looked round the room thoughtfully. Did they have anything made of poplar wood? He didn't think so. And what did poplar wood look like, anyway? Maybe he should go to the botanical gardens and cut himself a dagger from a branch.
That was all great, in theory, but what good would it do? If the music started playing again . . . that soft, alluring music . . . What if he took the chain off himself, broke the poplar-wood dagger and washed the garlic off his own neck?
Soft, gentle music . . . invisible enemies. Maybe they were already there with him. He simply couldn't see them. He didn't know how to look. And a vampire might be sitting right there, laughing at him, looking at this naïve kid preparing his defences. And he wasn't afraid of any poplar stake, he wasn't scared by the garlic. How could you fight against something invisible?
'Grey!' Egor called. The cat didn't respond to the usual 'kss-kss', he was an awkward character. 'Come here, Grey!'
The cat was standing in the doorway of the bedroom. His fur was standing on end and his eyes were blazing. He was looking past Egor, into the corner, at the armchair beside the coffee table. At an empty chair . . .
The boy felt the familiar chilly shiver run over his body. He jerked forward so violently that he went flying off the sofa and landed on the floor. The armchair was empty. The apartment was empty and locked. Everything turned dark, as if the sunlight outside the window had suddenly dimmed . . .
There was someone there with him.
'No!' Egor shouted, crawling away. 'I know! I know you're here!'
The cat gave a hoarse screech and darted under the bed.
'I can see you,' shouted Egor. 'Don't touch me!'
The entrance of the building looked gloomy and miserable enough. But viewed from inside the Twilight, it was a genuine catacomb. Concrete walls that were simply dirty in ordinary reality were overgrown with a dark blue moss in the Twilight. Disgusting. There clearly wasn't a single Other living here to clean up ... I passed my hand over a really thick growth – the moss stirred, trying to creep away from the warmth.
'Burn!' I ordered it.
I don't like parasites. Not even if they don't do any particular harm and only feed on other creatures' emotions. No one's ever proved the hypothesis that large colonies of blue moss are capable of unbalancing the human psyche and causing depression or mania. But I've always preferred to play safe.
'Burn!' I repeated, transmitting a small amount of power through my hand.
A hot, transparent flame spread across the layer of tangled blue felt. A moment later the entire entrance was ablaze. I stepped away towards the lift, pressed the button and got in. The cabin was a lot cleaner.
'Ninth floor,' Olga prompted. 'Why waste your powers like that?'
'That's just small change . . .'
'You might need everything you've got. Let it grow.'
I didn't answer. The lift crawled slowly upwards – the Twilight lift, the double of the ordinary one that was still standing on the first floor.
'Suit yourself,' said Olga. 'The uncompromising passion of youth . . .'
The doors opened. The fire had already reached the ninth floor and the blue moss was blazing wildly. It was warm, a lot warmer than it usually is in the Twilight. There was a slight smell of burning.
'That door there,' said Olga.
'I can see.'
I could sense the boy's aura behind the door. He hadn't even taken the risk of coming out today. Excellent. The goat was tethered with a strong rope, all we had to do was wait for the tiger.
'I suppose I'll go in,' I said. I pushed the door.
