Chapter 3 Chapter 2

It's hard to have fun with flying these days.Accidents with dilapidated Boeing 737s and Tu-154s, preoccupied Swiss navigators, well-aimed Ukrainian missiles, Arab terrorists of all stripes - none of this will allow passengers to pass peacefully in the comfort of their seats flying time.Even if the brandy is cheap in the duty-free shop, the flight attendants are attentive, and the food and wine are delicious, it is hard to relax. Fortunately I am not ordinary.Gesar and Svetlana checked the future trends, and I myself have insight into the next few hours.Flew in comfort to London, landed smoothly at Heathrow, caught the latest flight to Edinburgh...  

So I can sit comfortably on the business-class sofa (I guess not that the boss has suddenly become generous, it's just that I can't buy other tickets), drink some good Chilean red wine, and express my deep sympathy. Look at a pretty young lady down the aisle.She looked very frightened.From time to time, he made the sign of the cross on his chest, and silently recited prayers in his mouth. Finally I couldn't bear it any longer, and leaned towards her through the twilight world, and gently stroked her head for a while—not with my hands, but with my consciousness.I stroked her dyed hair back and forth with a tenderness that, for a human being, is unique to a mother.It can eliminate any uneasiness in the blink of an eye.

The lady relaxed and soon fell into a deep sleep. The middle-aged man next to me was much calmer, and was already quite drunk.He opened two small bottles of gin delivered by the stewardess seriously, mixed them with Tonic in a strict ratio of one to one and drank them, and then began to doze off.He looked the poster child for the bohemian lifestyle, in jeans, a cotton jumper, and a short beard.musician?director?All sorts of people are drawn to London - from businessmen and politicians to bohemian celebrities and wealthy glamorous... I can also relax, look out the porthole at the vast night sky over Poland, and think about it.

Before Zaburon appeared, everything seemed very simple.A young man named Vija fell to the hands of starving or dumb-witted vampires (or both) and died.After satisfying his appetite, the vampire realized what a "good thing" he had done, so he hid.The Edinburgh Night Watch followed the old, time-tested methods of scouting for vampires in and out of the city, checking for alibi, pinning down key targets that would surely catch the murderer.Gesar felt a little ashamed of Victor's father—although the latter refused to become the Other of the Light Force, he had helped the Night Watch patrol, so he decided to do a good deed and speed up the speed of solving the case.By the way, give me a chance to accumulate some experience.

Logical, right? Absolutely.Nothing makes sense. Then Zawulong came on the stage. Our noble Leonid Prokhorov is the otherness of the unactivated Light Force, but he also represents the other side.It turns out that he is still a dark power other who has not been stimulated!He had helped the Sun Watchers patrol team, so Zawulong was also willing to help him punish the murderer. Is there such a thing? It seems that there are.It seems that he wants to play both sides at the same time.For us others, it is impossible to obey the light and dark forces at the same time, and it is easier for ordinary people.That's exactly what most people do.

In this way... Victor's killing may not have been a coincidence.Perhaps Zaburon learned that Prokhorov also helped us, so he decided to kill his son in revenge.Of course, it is a borrowed knife to kill. Or quite the opposite.Sadly, it's also possible that Gesar ordered Victor's removal.Not in the name of revenge, no, of course not.The great magician can always find a morally plausible way to justify his own ideas. stop!So why did Gesar send me to Edinburgh?If he is guilty, he should understand that I will not cover it up for him! If Zawulong is guilty, there is no need for him to help me.Although Zawulong looks respectful, I am very happy to settle accounts with him.

It seems that it has nothing to do with the great magicians... I took a sip of red wine and put the glass aside. None of the Archmage's business, but they suspect each other, and both count on me.Gesar understood that I would not miss the opportunity to offend Zaburon.Zaburon knew that I might even oppose Gesar. This is awesome.It doesn't get any better than this.The Archmage of the Light Forces and the Archmage of the Dark Forces—neither of whom are the weakest of the Archmages in a world-class contest between Light and Darkness—are all on my side.I can get help from them.I would also be helped by Foma Lemont, a Scotsman with a comfortable Russian-sounding name.It seems that vampires really have nowhere to go.

This is indeed a joy.Because there are too many times when the evil forces are not punished. I stood up, pushed my way cautiously in front of the passenger next to me, onto the aisle, and glanced at the monitor.The bathroom at the nose of the plane was occupied.Of course, the easiest thing is to wait a while, but I wanted to stretch my legs, so I raised the curtain separating the business class and the economy class and walked towards the tail of the plane. As the well-known ironic joke goes, economy-class passengers arrive at their destinations at the same time as first-class passengers, only much cheaper.Leaving aside the first-class cabin on our flight, the conditions in the business class are already good—the seats are comfortable, the distance between each row of seats is wide, and the stewardesses work hard, the food is delicious, and the drinks are plentiful.

Passengers in economy class, however, were not downcast.Some were dozing off, and many were reading newspapers, books or travel guides.A few were working with their laptops on, and some were playing games.One of them is clearly offbeat, and he's flying a plane.According to my understanding, he was driving an aviation simulator with a high degree of simulation, and the flight route was the same as our Boeing 767, from Moscow to London.Maybe he was fighting his phobia of airplanes in this weird way? Of course, many passengers are drinking, although the saying that "drinking in flight is extremely harmful" has become a cliché, but there are always some people who are keen to relieve the fatigue of air travel.

I go to the back of the plane.The restrooms here are occupied too, and I had to wait for a few minutes looking over the backs of the passengers' heads.Elaborately groomed hairstyles, little girl's ponytail, short hedgehog hair, shiny bald head, ridiculous Indian boy's flower head.More than a hundred heads are thinking about what to do after arriving in London... The door of the bathroom opened, and a young man walked out and squeezed past me.I stepped in. stop. turn around. The young man is in his twenties.Broad shoulders, slightly taller than me.Some boys begin to grow suddenly after the age of eighteen, becoming broad shoulders and round backs.In the past, this was always attributed to the tempering of the army-it was it that "made boys into men."It's actually the hormones in their bodies that are at work.

Just a normal physiological phenomenon. "Egor?" I called tentatively. And immediately looked through the twilight world. Yes, it must be him.I'd recognize him even with his iron mask on.Yegor was Zaburon's bait, and was caught by Gesar and used skillfully.He was previously a rare child with an indeterminate bioelectric field. Now he's grown up, a young man, still carrying an uncertain bioelectric field.Transparent halo, usually colorless, sometimes tinted red, blue, green, and yellow.Like the grains of sand in the fourth layer of the twilight world... if you look closely, you can see all the colors of the world in it.Even if the potential other is an adult, he can still be the other of any party-the other of the light force or the other of the dark force. I haven't seen him for six years. What a coincidence! "Anton?" He was as surprised as I was. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "Fly..." he replied foolishly. Before I could react, I asked another stupid question: "where to?" "London," said Egor. I suddenly realized the funnyness of the dialogue, and laughed, so easily and carelessly, as if Yegor had never been wronged by the night watch patrol, Gesar, me, and all the others in the world. Soon we were patting each other's shoulders and starting to say things like "What a coincidence!", "I just thought of...", "Didn't think...".All in all, everything was as it should be between people who have shared some not-so-pleasant events—people who had had disputes recalled mostly amusing episodes years later. Even so, the two sides were not so excited to hug and cry because of the unexpected meeting. Passengers nearby looked at us one after another, but they all showed obvious kindness.A chance meeting of old friends in such an incredible place as an airplane cabin is sure to gain the understanding of the onlookers. "You didn't intend to show up here, did you?" Yegor asked, still with the suspicious tone of the past. "Crazy?" I looked a little annoyed. "I'm on a business trip." "Oh!" He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Still working there?" "certainly." No one pays attention to us anymore.We were also a little embarrassed standing there, not knowing what else to say. "You, as far as I know...haven't been aroused?" I was embarrassed. Yegor was nervous for a moment, then replied with a smile: "To hell with him! Why should I accept it? You know... just barely to the seventh level. There is no bright future. There is no light or dark. So I left you all behind." I was worried and felt a dull pain in my chest. There can be no such coincidence. Like Leonid Prokhorov, Yegor is still an ordinary person, not an other. The light forces testify that such a coincidence is impossible! "Where are you going?" I asked again, which made Yegor laugh again.He was supposed to be the life of the party, he liked to laugh, and his laughter was contagious. "No, I understand you're going to London. To study or to go on vacation?" "Going to London for vacation in summer?" Yegor chuckled. "Then why don't you stay in Moscow? It's the same concrete forest, no difference...I'm going to the art festival." "Edinburgh Festival?" I knew the answer before I finished asking. "Yes, I graduated from circus school." "What?" It was my turn to widen my eyes. "I'm a magician." Yegor smiled. What a wonderful show! Yes, for others, this is an excellent disguise.The same is true even for the uninspired Other—anyway, he has small abilities beyond ordinary people.People expect magicians to perform miracles.They are magicians recognized by the world. "Very good!" I said sincerely. "It's a pity you're going to London," Egor sighed. "Or I can take you to the show." Then I did a stupid thing and told him: "I'm not going to London, Yegor. I'm going to Edinburgh, too." It is rare to see a person's facial expression change so quickly from pleasure to disgust or even contempt. "Understood. What do you want me to do again?" "Egor, you..." I was at a loss for words. Am I brave enough to say it has nothing to do with him? No. Because even I don't believe it myself. "Understood." Yegor repeated, turned and walked towards the middle of the cabin.I had no choice but to step into the bathroom and close the door. A smell of smoke.Passengers who can smoke will still puff in the bathroom despite the ban.I looked in the mirror—a sleepy, languid face.Although I am different from ordinary people...but at this moment I still want to hit the mirror with my forehead.I did, and kept saying, "Idiot, idiot, idiot..." I was so relaxed that I actually believed that what awaited me was an ordinary business trip. Gesar personally sent me on the road, could it be an ordinary task? I washed my face with cold water, stood for a while, and looked fiercely at myself in the mirror.Then he urinated, stepped on the pedal with his foot, and the blue disinfectant flowed into the steel toilet.I washed my hands and poured cold water on my face. Whose plan is this?Gesar or Zaburon? Who sent the boy Yegor who was not the other to go with me?For what purpose? Who set up the chess game?What are the rules?Most importantly, how many pieces are there on the board? I took Zaburon's present from my pocket.The bone itself is dark yellow, but for some reason, I know very well that the craftsman carved a black wolf.A full-grown black wolf, with its head thrown back, makes a sombre call. Contact, help, advice... The little statues looked very ordinary, and there were thousands of them in the souvenir kiosks, except they were all made of plastic, not bone.And I felt the magic that penetrated the statue.I just need to hold it in the palm of my hand... as long as I want to... Do I need help from the Darkbringer? Resisting the urge to throw the statue down the toilet, I put it back in my pocket. It's a pity that there is no audience, so I can't comment on my passionate gesture. I fumbled in my pocket and found a pack of cigarettes.I don't smoke much, and a four-hour flight won't make me addicted.But now I want to succumb to the ordinary preferences of human beings.All others are that the older you are, the more little bad habits you have.It seems to want to retain the subtle manifestations of human nature, and nothing is a surer way than vice. I found the lighter left in the pocket of my suit jacket, and without hesitation, I ignited the high-temperature arc between my thumb and forefinger, and lit the cigarette with the magic fire. Junior magicians always like to do everything with magic. They shave their beards with crystal knives until half a cheek or earlobe is scraped off; They also need to check the future trend before the trolleybus. They love the very act of casting magic.They even wipe their asses with magic if they can. The other gradually matures, becomes wiser, and begins to be stingy.They understand that energy does not disappear.It's better to get up off the couch and walk over to hit the switch than to touch it with a single burst of energy.They also understood that heating steaks with electricity was far better than magic fire, that small wounds were best smeared with ointments, and that the "Avicenna" spell was kept in case of serious illness. Later, if the others don't stay at the lowest energy level, then they can master the real skills.At this time, he will no longer care about whether to use a lighter or magic to light a cigarette. I puffed out a cigarette. Gesar? Zaburon? Well, guessing is pointless.But it should be kept in mind that everything is more complicated than first thought.It's time to go back to your seat, the plane is about to land. As usual we were jolted a bit while flying over the Straits of La Manche.But the plane landed smoothly.Soon everyone passed the routine entry inspection.The other passengers went to collect their luggage (except for Yegor who was not excited, there was no other person on the plane), I fell a little behind and found my own shadow on the ground.I stared straight at the gray silhouette, making it three-dimensional and standing up against me.Then I stepped into my own shadow, into the twilight realm. It's no different here.Walls, windows, doors.It's just that everything is gray, as if the color has faded.Ordinary people float slowly in the real world like shadows.They didn't know why, but they all wanted to bypass this seemingly indistinguishable corridor, and even quickened their pace. In order not to disturb ordinary people, it is best to pass through the other customs checkpoint in the twilight world.Simple incantations are spread over the examination table.This is the "area from attention".Ordinary people don't need to pay attention to this examination table at all.But I, talking to the void, draws attention from others. So I walked to the examination table in the twilight world.After I was in the protective circle of the spell, I returned to the real world. According to the usual practice, there are two people who conduct customs inspections—one Light Emissary and one Dark Emissary. In my opinion, it is not reasonable to check others entering and leaving the country.If vampires and shapeshifters were to spend the night in a city, they had to register with the local patrol office.This is because lower-level Darkbringers are often swayed by the animal side of their nature.In fact, not only them, any magician—whether it is the Darkbringer or the Lightbringer—can do this kind of thing.Vampires can even burrow into graves if frightened.Well, then, let the rule that no one wants to abolish continue to exist-despite the objections of vampires and shapeshifters.But why is it necessary to examine the intercourse of the Other between countries?This is necessary for ordinary people - illegal immigration, smuggling, drugs ... and spies, although spies have stopped running through surveillance zones with strapped deer's hooves and midnight traps a century and a half ago Drop into enemy territory with a parachute.All dignified spies fly and stay in high-end hotels.As for others, we have no restrictions on emigration, and even low-level magicians can obtain the nationality of any country without any effort.Why set up such an absurd inspection table? Presumably for the Inquisition.Formal Shanghai customs checkpoints are managed by the local night watchman patrol team and day watchman patrol team.But every day a report is issued to the Inquisition.There may be a more careful study of this report. and draw conclusions. "Good evening, I'm Anton Gorodetsky." I stopped at the examination table.We're not popular with credentials, which is good.There have always been rumors of either magically marking every Other - as vampires do now, or putting a mark on the passports of ordinary people that they cannot see. These bureaucratic practices have not yet been implemented. "Lightbringer." The magician of the dark force said affirmatively.He is a relatively low-level magician, no more than six levels.He has a weak figure: narrow shoulders, thin body, short stature, pale complexion, and only a few sparse light-colored hair. "Lightbringer," I said. My colleague from the London Night Watch was a jolly, stout Negro.The only similarity between him and his companions is that he is also very young, and his level is very weak, only six or seven levels. "Hello, buddy!" he said cheerfully. "Anton Gorodetsky? Where does he work?" "Moscow, Russia, night watch patrol." "level?" I suddenly realized that they couldn't read my bioelectric field.They can determine magicians with four or five levels of energy.But for them, the higher-level bioelectric field dissolves into a blob of light. "advanced." The Dark Messenger stood up slightly.Of course they are all egoists and individualists.But in front of senior magicians, he is still respectful. The Messenger of Light opened his eyes wide: "Oh! Advanced! Will it be long?" "Just passing by. To Edinburgh. In three hours." "Rest? Work?" "Business trip." I replied without elaborating. Of course, the Lightbringers are free and democratic, but despite this, they still respect high-ranking magicians. "Where did you enter the Twilight Realm?" The Dark Emissary nodded towards the customs checkpoint of ordinary people. "Yes. I won't be on the surveillance cameras, will I?" The Dark Angel shook his head. "No, it's all managed by us. But I suggest you be careful in the urban area. There are many cameras. There are many. Sometimes people can notice our disappearance and appearance. We need to remove the traces." "I won't even leave the airport." "There are cameras in Edinburgh, too," interjected the Lightbringer. "Less, but still . . . do you have the contact details for the Edinburgh Inspectorate?" He didn't specifically refer to the Night's Watch Patrol.This is obvious. "Yes." I said. "A good friend of mine owns a family hotel in Edinburgh," the dark emissary broke into the conversation. "It's been over two hundred years, on the 'Royal Mile' next to the castle. If you don't mind that he's a vampire..." what happened?Vampires are everywhere! "...here's his business card. Great hotel, friendly to others." "I have nothing against vampires," I assured him, taking the little rectangular card. "I have vampires among my friends." A vampire friend was sent to Huangquan Road by me... "There's a nice restaurant in District V." The Lightbringer interjected again. They were so genuinely trying to help me that I didn't know how to get past the endless kindness and kindness at the examination table.Fortunately, another plane landed, followed by a few others.I kept smiling -- Russian facial expressions aren't used to that -- as I headed towards baggage claim. I didn't go to the restaurant, and I didn't have any appetite.Just wandered around the airport, drank a double espresso, took a nap in a chair in the departure lounge, and boarded the plane yawning.Obviously, Yegor was also on this flight.But we both pretended not to see each other.To be exact, he pretended not to see me, so I didn't pester him for a conversation. An hour later, we landed at Edinburgh Airport. I got into a taxi just before noon, very comfortable British taxis, I miss them whenever I leave the Kingdom of Great Britain.I said hello to the driver, and on a sudden impulse, I handed the "Friendly Hotel" business card.I'd already booked a room at a common people's hotel, but the chance to talk to one of Scotland's oldest vampires (even for them, two hundred years is no joke) was too tempting. The hotel is indeed located in the historic center of the city, on a hill not far from the castle.I lowered the car window curiously, like a normal person arriving in a new and interesting country for the first time. Edinburgh is impressive.Of course, any old city can be said to be impressive - if it hadn't been bombarded by World War sixty years ago, and its ancient churches, castles and houses of all kinds hadn't been reduced to ashes.But there is something special here.Maybe it's because of the king's castle, which stands impartially on the hill and puts a stone crown on the city; maybe it's because of the bustling pedestrians on the street, they all look happy, wandering around with their cameras on their shoulders, and for a while Look in the window, and watch the fascinated buyers for a while; perhaps because of the streets and cobbled roads scattered randomly around the castle, and some old houses on both sides of them-the red flowers need green leaves to match. Even if the king wears the most beautiful crown on his head, he still needs the right dress.The radiant diamonds on his head could not save the naked king in Andersen's fairy tale. The taxi pulled up in front of a four-story stone building, its cramped facade sandwiched between two shops packed with customers.The store windows are filled with plaid skirts and scarves and, of course, whiskey.What else can I take home with me here?In Russia you can buy vodka and nesting dolls, in Greece you can buy ouzo and embroidered tablecloths, in Scotland you should buy whiskey and scarves. I got out of the cab, took the suitcase from the driver, paid, and glanced at the house in front of me.A sign at the entrance of the hotel reads: "Blood of the Highlanders". What a brutal vampire. The sun was strong, and I frowned and walked towards the door.It was quite hot.Claims that vampires can't stand sunlight are nothing but rumours.They can bear it, it's just that the sun makes them uncomfortable.In such a hot summer, even I have a little understanding of them. I stood in front of the gate and it didn't open, apparently automatics are not very welcome in this hotel.I pushed it away with my hand and walked in. Fortunately, there is air conditioning inside.The coolness was not from the night before, even though there were thick stone walls around. The small vestibule was dim, and perhaps that was why it looked cozy.I saw a not-so-young but handsome gentleman standing at the front desk.High-end suits, ties with clips, shirts with silver fly cuff buttons.Slightly chubby cheeks, a mustache, and a ruddy complexion... There is no doubt that his bioelectric field is that of an ordinary person. "Hello." I walked to the front desk. "I was recommended your hotel...I want a single room." "Single room?" the gentleman asked with a smile on his face. "Single room." I repeated. "The room is tense, it's the arts festival..." he sighed. "You don't have a reservation, do you?" "No." He sighed wistfully again, and began to look through the records, as if the little family hotel had so many rooms that he couldn't remember if any were vacant. "Who recommended it to you?" he asked me, without lifting his eyes from his notebook. "Dark messengers for customs checks at Heathrow." "I think we can help you," replied the gentleman without surprise. "What kind of room do you want? Light? Dark? If you're... um... with a dog, we also have a room that's convenient enough that even the biggest dog can get in and out without bothering anyone... " "I want a brighter room," I said. "Andrew, give him a deluxe room on the fourth floor," a voice came from behind me. "He is a distinguished guest, a very distinguished guest." I took the magic-like key from the porter (no magic at all, but his hands were nimble) and turned around. "I'll accompany you up there," the light-haired young man standing next to the cigarette vending machine said to me.The vending machine is placed at the entrance of the small restaurant of the hotel.Such hotels usually do not have a restaurant, and breakfast is delivered to the room, but the tastes of the guests here are too weird. "Anton," I introduced myself, looking at the hotel owner. "Anton Gorodetsky, of the Moscow Night Watch." "Bruce," said the young man. "Bruce Ramsay, owner of this hotel in Edinburgh." He looked perfect as Dorian Gray in the film adaptation of Wilde's novel.Young, classy, ​​and hopelessly fresh, it's only fitting that this handsome guy dons an "I'm Going to Have Fun" badge. His eyes, however, were old, gray, dull, the eyes of a two-hundred-year-old vampire, with whites of a uniform pale pink. The young man picked up my case--I made no gesture of politeness--and went up the narrow wooden stairs, saying: "Unfortunately, we don't have an elevator here. The house is old and too small to have an elevator passage in it. And I'm not used to elevators. I think mechanical monsters would deface this wonderful building. I hate those that have been remodeled The house, with its quaint appearance, hides rigid and dull rooms. Among the guests who come to our place, there are not many difficulties in climbing the stairs... Maybe the doppelgangers don't like too steep stairs, but we try to make them Arrange it on the first or second floor—there is a special room there...Senior Lightbringer, what brought you to this peaceful city of ours?" He himself is not simple either.A vampire with Tier 1 energy—his energy isn't exactly magical like mine, but vampiric.But in any case, he can be called a first-level other. "The accident in the 'burrow'," I said. "I suppose it's the same thing." The young man strode ahead, two steps at a time. "It's indeed a very unfortunate thing, and it's funny, but...it's not good. In this day and age, you can't just walk up to a decent ordinary person and suck him dry like that." "Remember the past?" I couldn't help asking. "Occasionally," said the young man, and then he laughed. "But every age and every era has its merits, right? People are more civilized, they don't hunt witches, they don't believe in vampires. Treat ordinary people like animals. People have the right to be respected, as if they were our ancestors. Respect for predecessors, right?" Unfortunately, I don't find anything worth refuting in his statement. "The room is nice, you will like it." While speaking, the vampire climbed to the fourth floor.There are only two doors here, and the stairs continue to go up, leading to the attic. "The room on the right is for the Dark Emissary. It's also very good. I arranged it according to my own taste. I'm very satisfied with the whole design. This is your room." He didn't use the key, but tapped the lock lightly with the palm of his hand, and the door opened.It's just a trick, and it might even seem strange to an old vampire to do so. "We've got a self-taught designer here who's great, an Other to the Light Force. He's only level six, but he doesn't need magic to do the job," Bruce continued. "I invited him and decorated three rooms according to the taste of the Lightbringer. Of course, the decoration is quite unique in general, you know..." I walked into the room and was immediately stunned. I never thought I would have such taste. Everything around is white, beige and pink.The floor is light-colored wood, which has been whitened, and the walls are covered with beige wallpaper with light pink flowers. The old-fashioned furniture is also light-colored wood, decorated with snow-white satin.There was a large leather sofa against the wall.Want to say color?Of course it is white.Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and sheer veils and light pink curtains hung on the windows. In the morning, how bright the sun should be here... A door leads to a small bedroom.The room was comfortable with a double bed.The sheets are silk and pink.On the dressing table was a small vase with a fresh red rose in it—the only bright color in the room.Behind the other door is the bathroom, which is very small, but it is equipped with a jacuzzi bathtub and shower room that use science and technology. "It's kind of kitschy and doesn't fit the style," Bruce sighs behind me. "But many customers like it." His face reflected in the mirror looked a bit annoyed.Apparently, he didn't like the idea of ​​installing such monster sanitary ware in a hotel. I nodded at him without turning around.The claim that vampires don't reflect in mirrors is as false as the rumors about their complete intolerance of sunlight and fear of garlic, silverware, and aspen trees.Instead, they are reflected in the mirror, and even after they remove the other person's eyes from the mirror, their image remains there. "I really want to take a shower," I said. "But let's talk about it later. Do you have ten minutes, Bruce?" "Are you here on an official visit to Edinburgh? Lightbringer." "no." "Then I have time." The vampire smiled and sat down on the sofa. I sat down across from him, stared at his chin and smiled back. "How do you feel about the room?" Bruce asked with interest. "I feel that innocent girls aged seventeen or eighteen will definitely like it," I said honestly. "But a white cat is needed." "If you want, we can arrange it," said the vampire graciously. At this point, the polite part of the conversation came to an end. "I'm in Edinburgh on unofficial business," I repeated. "But I'm here at the same time as the leader of the Moscow Night Watch and... the Day Watch." "It's strange..." the young man whispered. "The venerable Gesar and the beloved Zaburon sent the same envoy... and one with high-level magic... just for such a small matter. That being said, I'm glad to be able to help." "Are you personally disturbed by what happened?" I asked point-blank. "Of course. I've already said my opinion." Bruce frowned. "It's not the Middle Ages. We're all European citizens. It's the twenty-first century. Old patterns of behavior should be thrown away..." He sighed and glanced at the bathroom door. "If the water supply and drainage system were invented, there would be no need to bathe in a bathtub and use a wooden hut. Even if the bathtub is more used and preferred... You know, there has recently been a movement here to treat ordinary people with a humane attitude .No one is allowed to drink blood without a license. Even with a license, try not to kill anyone. . . . hardly ever suck blood from a child under the age of twelve, even if the child is drawn by lottery." "Why under twelve?" Bruce shrugged. "This is the custom. For example, do you know what is the most brutal crime in Germany? Killing a child under the age of twelve. If you have turned twelve, even if it was only yesterday, you will be punished according to other terms. It’s also different...so we are also advocating not touching children here now. Regulations are being drawn up to remove children from the lottery.” “真让人感动，”我嘀咕了一句。“那为什么没经许可小伙子还是被吃了？” 布鲁斯想了想。 “您很清楚，我只能提出一些假设……” “我正是对此感兴趣。” 布鲁斯迟疑了一下，然后咧嘴笑了： “有什么可说的呢？某个年轻吸血鬼头脑发昏了吧。很可能是个姑娘，刚当吸血鬼，她喜欢上小伙子了……当时那种情形，春心萌动，就像古老传说讲的那样……总之，她没控制住自己。” “您觉得是个女的？” “也有可能是男的，如果他是个同性恋的话。倒不是说非得是女的，”布鲁斯不好意思地垂下眼睛。“但这总归要自然一些……更合乎常理……” “那其他的假设呢？”我强忍住没有说出自己的想法。 “流窜分子。某个游客。您知道，第二次世界大战以后一切都混杂到了一起，大家开始东奔西跑……”他不满地摇摇头。“有些不负责任的家伙就开始利用这一点。” “布鲁斯，我不想惊动你们的巡查队，”我说。“如果被他们误解可没什么好处，好像莫斯科的同事怀疑他们的工作能力似的。或许您能提示我一下，谁是你们这儿主要的吸血鬼？资深吸血鬼、大吸血鬼……你们怎么叫？” “我没什么特别叫法。”布鲁斯咧嘴一笑，故意不慌不忙地晃了晃他的獠牙——他从上腭支出两颗又尖又长的牙齿，然后又把它们收了回去。“比如说我就被称为大师。可我不太喜欢这个词，它总是被用在一些并不高明的书籍和电影里面。不过，如果他们愿意这样叫，那就随他们去吧。” “当大师您还年轻了些，”我略感诧异。“才两百岁。” “两百二十岁三个月十一天，”布鲁斯说得更精确。“是的，我还年轻，不过这可是在苏格兰啊。您不知道，这些山民的疑心有多重，他们多么执拗，多么喜欢固守自己那些迷信！在我小的时候，每年我们同伴中都有人被他们用山杨树橛子毒打。” 也许是我的错觉吧，我觉得布鲁斯的腔调中明显流露出以同胞为荣的意味。 “您会帮我吗，大师？”我问。 布鲁斯摇摇头。 “不，当然不！”如果查出是谁杀了俄罗斯小伙子，我们会惩处他。我们自己。我们不会让他舒服的，肯定要严加惩罚。不过没人会把他交给巡查队。 那是当然，没什么可指望的。 “没必要问'万一你们已经把他找到了，也惩处了呢'这样的话吧？”我说。 “没必要，”布鲁斯叹了一口气。 “那我该费心地去抓罪犯呢？”我故意带着抱怨的口吻问，“还是只需要在你们这个妙不可言的城市里休息休息？” 布鲁斯的回答透着讽刺： “作为黑暗使者，我只能对您说'好好休息吧！'。放松放松，看看博物馆，四处逛逛。有谁在乎这个死去的大学生？” 这时我发觉自己再也不想克制了。我看了看布鲁斯的眼睛，黑黑的瞳孔中兴奋地闪烁着红光。我问道： “要是我把你掰个粉碎呢？死吸血鬼。把你掰碎，掏出你的内脏，强迫你回答所有的问题，这样如何？” “来吧！”布鲁斯用几近温柔的嗓音轻声回答。“你就来试试吧，高级光明使者。你以为我们不知道你的底细？你以为我们不知道你的能量从何而来？” 四目相接。 瞳仁相对。 脉动的黑色通道把我引向虚空。遭窃取的生命迸射出的红色火花回旋变幻。耳畔传来呼唤般的低语。年轻吸血鬼的面庞圣洁、崇高、绝美。 我朝着他的腿跌撞过去…… 为这种美貌、智慧和意志感到惊诧，喜极而泣。 同时恳求饶恕…… 他非常强大，毕竟拥有两百年的经验，再加上一级吸血鬼的能量。 我完全感受到了他的强大力量，站起身来，双腿无法弯曲，就像是别人的腿似的不听使唤。犹犹豫豫地迈出一步。 布鲁斯笑了。 跟八年前莫斯科门洞里的吸血鬼一样。当时我跟踪身受召唤又孤单无助的叶戈尔追到那儿…… 在这场心理战中我投入了不少能量。如果把它们注入火球，就能穿过三十余幢房屋，撞到苏格兰古堡的城墙上。 布鲁斯的瞳仁发白，褪去了光泽。引力巨大的黑色通道燃烧成一团白光。我面前摇摇晃晃地坐着个长着张年轻脸庞的干瘪老头，他脸上的皮肤像头皮那样开始一小片一小片地脱落。 “是谁杀了维克托？”我逼问，能量继续穿透我的身体，一股一股地往外流，随即又灵活地结成索环，蹿进吸血鬼的眼眸中。 他沉默不语，在沙发上不停地晃动。我不会把他的大脑——或者类似大脑的东西——烧没了吧？对于非正式的调查而言，这可真是个良好的开端！ “你知道是谁杀了维克托吗？”我换了一种提问方式。 “不知道。”布鲁斯小声地说。 “你有何推断？” “可能性……有两种。年轻的小伙……年轻姑娘没控制住自己……流窜分子……外面来的吸血鬼……” “对这宗杀人案你还知道些什么？” There was a silence.他在凝神思考，仿佛要发表长篇大论似的。 “你还知道些什么本地巡查队不清楚的东西？” “什么也不知道……” 我止住一股一股的能量，坐到沙发上。 What should we do now?如果他向守日人巡查队投诉？我这可是毫无缘由的攻击和审问…… 布鲁斯又在沙发上摇晃了片刻。然后浑身哆嗦了一下，目光变得理智起来。 理智但又可怜巴巴的。 “对不起，光明使者，”他小声地说。 "I'm very sorry." 我愣了好几秒钟才反应过来。 吸血鬼大师不仅是最强大、最灵活、最聪明的吸血鬼，也是从来没有失败过的吸血鬼。 于我而言，布鲁斯的申诉可能是个大麻烦；可是对他来说，这将意味着身败名裂。 这位客客气气、岁数不小的年轻人非常爱慕虚荣。 “我接受你的道歉，大师，”我说。“刚才发生的事就仅限于你知我知。” 布鲁斯舔舔嘴唇。他的脸颊变得红润了一些，恢复了以前的帅气。他说话的语调强硬了起来——他明白把事情公开出去对我也没好处。 “我倒是希望……”，他说，“希望”这个词包含着他所施加的压力和恶毒的仇恨，“光明使者，今后别再发动这样的攻击了。你没有理由实施侵犯。” “是你逼我采取对决手段的。” “从理论上讲，我没有，”他立刻回答。“是你没有遵守对决程序。” “从事实上讲，你有。咱们向宗教裁判所讨教讨教？” 他眨眨眼，又恢复成了此前那个好客的主人模样。 “好吧，光明使者，过去的事就不再追究了……” 布鲁斯有些摇晃地站起身，向大门走去。他在门外转过头，带着明显的不满说： “我的房子也是你的。这个房间就是你的住处。我不会不请自来。” 很怪，但这个流传已久的奇谈的确是事实——如果没有受到邀请，吸血鬼不会进入别人的房间。谁都不知道为什么会这样。 The door is closed.我把手从沙发扶手处挪开，白色的缎子上留下了湿湿的掌印，一道深色的印记。 夜里不睡觉真不好。我开始觉得浑身难受。 但我肯定，对于这起杀人事件，爱丁堡的吸血鬼大师完全不知情。 我打开箱子，把浅色的亚麻西服和两件干净的衬衫挂到衣架上，朝窗外看了看，摇摇头，然后拿出印有“守夜人巡查队”标记的短裤和T恤衫。当然是弄着玩儿的，T恤衫上什么稀奇古怪的字样没有啊！ 这时我的注意力被墙上小镜框里文绉绉的书法作品给吸引住了。我在楼梯旁边已经看到过一个这样的镜框了，难道它们挂满了旅馆各处？我走上前去，看到内容，大感吃惊： “好一个狗崽子！”我这句话里几乎包含了赞许。住在这个旅馆里的普通人可不会产生什么不好的联想。 毫无疑问，布鲁斯的幽默感跟在“吸血鬼城堡”把人吸干的凶手相似。他绝对是杀人犯的合适人选。 只可惜，在受到如此强烈的打击时，布鲁斯根本不可能说谎。

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Notes: 一书的第一部中描述过。——作者注 The protagonist in .