Chapter 17 Chapter 6

I stepped out of the TV tower, stopped, and put my hands in my pockets. I stood for a moment, looking at the lights of the searchlights moving across the sky, at the bright sentry box at the passing checkpoint. There are only two points in the game that the Patrol, or rather, the leader of the Patrol, is playing at the moment that I don't understand. The inhabitant of the Twilight—who is he, and whose side is he on?Is he warning me or scaring me? Little Yegor—maybe our meeting was not by chance?If not by chance - then by fate, or just another of Zaburon's ploys? I know almost nothing about the inhabitants of the Twilight Realm.Perhaps Zawulong himself didn't understand either.

Then it is Yegor who can think about it. He - an undealed card in the game.Even a 6 is a main card like all of us.Small trump cards are often needed as well.Yegor has already been to the Twilight—the first time to try to see me, the second time to avoid vampires.It's a bad alignment, if we're being honest.Both times terrified him, and there was no doubt that his future was almost predetermined.He may still remain on the line between man and other for a few more years, but the path will lead him to dark forces. Better to face reality. He could very well be the Darkbringer.But at the moment Yegor is just an ordinary good boy and doesn't play any role.If I survive, one day maybe I'll ask him for his ID when we meet.

Zaburon is likely to exert influence on him.Sending him to where I am means he has a very good awareness of where I am.However, I am prepared for this. Is it just that our "chance" encounter is meaningful? Thinking of what the operator said: The area of ​​the "National Economic Exhibition Hall" has not been searched yet.A crazy idea filled my mind to use that little boy - hide in his house, or get help.I can go to his house.right? too complicated.Too much.I could easily be caught that way.I'm missing a certain part, the most critical one. I walked towards the street, and I didn't look at the tower of the fake dark force headquarters that was established today. I almost forgot the crippled body of the dark magician lying flat on the base of the TV tower at this moment.What do they want from me?What?Let's start here.

I wanted to be a decoy, to be met by the watchmen patrol, and to have no suspicion of my guilt, which actually happened. And later—Svetlana would not be able to hold on.We were able to protect her personally, and her parents.We just can't interfere with her personal decisions.If she started rescuing me, pulling me out of the Day Watchers burrow, and getting me back in court, she would be killed quickly and without a doubt.The whole game is set up for her uncertain behavior.The whole game started long ago, when the dark wizard Zaburon foresaw the appearance of the great sorcerer and the role I was about to play.The traps are also ready.The first trap has been exposed, the second has opened its greedy mouth, and there may be a third ahead.

But what does that have to do with the lad who hasn't shown magic yet? I stopped. He's a dark mage, isn't he? Which of us killed the Darkbringer?Kill those dark emissaries who are weak, weak in mana, and don't want to develop themselves? Another dead body hanging on me, but what's the point? I have no idea.But the little boy is doomed, and the meeting on the subway is no accident, I know that very well.Maybe I have the foresight again, maybe another piece of the puzzle is placed in the designated place. Yegor will die. I remembered the way he stood on the platform looking at me: frowning, trying to ask me a question, and cursing me, cursing the truth about the patrol that he learned too early; He ran towards the exit.

"Isn't someone protecting you?" "I'll do my best." Of course I will try my best.Will do my best to find the wildlings. He is the answer! I stopped and covered my head with my palms.Light and darkness, how stupid I am!How naive! As long as the wildling is alive, the trap will not snap shut.It's not enough for me to pass off as a psychopath hunter, poacher of the Light Force, it's more important to exterminate the real wildlings. The dark forces - or at least Zaburon - knew who he was.And—will control him.They're throwing out prey -- throwing out those who don't see any particular advantage.Now the Wildman didn't just have another heroic battle against the Darkness, he put his mind and soul into it.Darkness fell on him from all sides, first a shapeshifter, then a dark magician in the dining room, and now a little boy.Presumably he felt that the world had gone mad, that the day of the Apocalypse was approaching, that dark forces were taking over the world.I really don't want to be in his position.

The death of the shapeshifter was necessary in order to protest to us that someone is facing a blow. Death of the Dark Mage - justified formal prosecution and arrest in order to round up me thoroughly. The little boy is essential to the ultimate extermination of the wildlings who have successfully accomplished their mission.Get involved at the last moment, grab him before the corpse, and kill him before he can escape and fight back.He doesn't understand that we have to follow the rules when we fight, that he will never surrender, that he will never respond to orders from the unknown "Night Watch Patrol."

Once the wildling is dead, I'll never have a chance to prove my innocence.Or agree to flip the memory out, or escape into the twilight world.Either way Svetlana would have fallen apart. I curl up. cold.Still cold.I used to feel that winter was gone forever, but it was just an illusion. Holding up my hand, I stopped the first car I encountered.I looked into the driver's eyes and ordered: "Walk!" The control of the mind is really strong enough, the driver didn't even ask where to go. The world is coming to an end. Some things are approaching quietly, and some are leaving quietly.Ancient shadows squirmed, and some lost language whispered, trembling and shaking the earth.

Darkness enveloped the world. Maxim stood on the balcony smoking a cigarette, listening casually to Lian Na's scolding.She has been scolding for hours, since the rescued girl got out of the car by the subway.Maxim heard everything about himself, some situations he could imagine, and some situations he couldn't imagine.Maxim accepted the words that he was a fool and a lecher who was willing to be under the hail of bullets for a good-looking face and two slender legs.As for him being a shameless and a badass, flirting with a disheveled and unattractive whore in front of his wife—that's a little weird.Especially considering that he only had a few conversations with the female passenger he came across.

Now it's all nonsense.She pulled out his accidental business trip, and came home drunk twice... drunk.To guess at the number of his mistresses, to say that he was dull and weak, was a hindrance to business and at least a modicum of respectability. Maxim squinted over his shoulder. Lian Na didn't scold him, he felt a little strange.She sat on the leather sofa in front of the big Panasonic TV and talked and talked...almost candidly. Does she really think so? She really thought he had a bunch of mistresses?Really think he saved a strange girl not because of the bullets whizzing through the air, but because of his beautiful body?Do you really feel that they are not living well, living poorly?Are you talking about the ones who bought a high-end house three years ago, decorated it like a toy, and went to France for Christmas?

His wife's voice was heartbroken, and she accused her confidently. Maxim flicked the cigarette ash down with a flick of his finger.He looked at the night. Darkness, darkness is approaching. There he was, killing a dark magician in the bathroom.One of the most unsavory creations of cosmic evil.A man of evil and fear, a man who drains energy from those around him, ravages the hearts of others, turns white into black and love into hate.As usual, he fought the whole world one-on-one. It's just that this kind of thing has never happened before.Two days in a row with these demons: maybe they all came out of their fetid holes, maybe his eyesight improved. like now. When Maxim looked from the height of the tenth floor, what he saw was not the night city with sparse lights.This is for the blind and impotent.He saw condensed darkness floating above the land.Its location is not high, about eleven to twelve floors high. Maxim saw a dark product. As usual, as usual.Just why so often, why in succession?Already the third time!Three times a day and night! The darkness trembles, shakes and moves.Darkness awoke. Behind him, Lian Na counted his faults in a tired, sad, and annoyed voice.She stood up and walked to the door leading to the balcony, as if doubting that Maxim would not hear her.Well, that's fine too.At least it won't wake the kids up if they're asleep.For some reason Maxim became suspicious. If only he really believed in God, totally.But that feeble faith, that purifying soul, that warmed Maxim every time, was almost gone.There can be no God in a world where evil prevails. However, if God exists...assuming it exists, or if there is still true faith in Maxim's heart, then he will kneel now, kneeling on the dirty concrete floor, facing the dark night sky, facing the silence A sky that silently shone with melancholy stars would lift up its hands and cry, "Why? Why, God? This is beyond me, it's not what I can bear! Take this burden off of me, and I beg you, help Let me unload! I'm not what you need! I'm weak and incompetent." Shout—don't shout.God did not place this burden on you, nor will He take it off you.The dim lights ahead flickered and burned red.A new claw of darkness. "Lianna, I'm sorry." He pushed his wife away and walked into the room. "I gotta go." She stopped talking halfway, and now there was a kind of fear in the eyes that were shining with anger and aggrieved just now. "I'll be right back." He wanted to avoid his wife's question and walked quickly to the door. "Maxim! Maxim! Wait!" Scolding turned into pleading in the blink of an eye.Then Lian Na rushed out, grabbed his hand, and looked at his face with a pitiful and flattering look. "Forgive me, forgive me, how frightened I am! Forgive me for my stupid words, Maxime!" He looked at the submissive, ready-to-do-it-all wife who lost all hostility in an instant, and she just hoped that he, the fool, the womanizer, wouldn't leave the house.Had something appeared on his face--something that frightened Lianna more than the robbery they had intervened in? "I won't let you go! I won't let you go anywhere! Look, it's the middle of the night!..." "I'm fine," Maxim said softly, "Okay, take it easy, the child will wake up. I'll be right back." "If you don't think about yourself, you should also think about the child! Think about me!" Lianna quickly changed her approach. "What if they remembered the car's license plate number? What if someone came looking for that bad woman now? What would I do?" "No one will come." I don't know why Maxim knew this was the truth, "If someone comes suddenly—the door is very strong. Who to call—you know. Lian Na, let me go out." The wife stood motionless by the door, with her arms outstretched, her head raised, her eyes narrowed for some reason, as if she was waiting to be hit by him. Maxim carefully kissed her on the cheek and ran away.He walked into the outer hall with a look of panic in his eyes.There was muffled, piercing music coming from her daughter's room—she didn't sleep, she turned on the tape recorder just to drown out their rough voices, to drown out Lianna's. "No!" The wife begged softly from behind. He put on his coat and checked quickly to see if it was still in the inside pocket. "You don't think about us at all!" Lianna shouted in a low voice, as if out of a habit, unconsciously giving up any hope.The music in my daughter's room got louder. "It's not true," Maxim said calmly. "I'm thinking of you. I'll protect you." He didn't want to wait for the elevator and strode down the stairs. His wife's yelling came from behind, which was really unexpected, because she didn't like family scandals, and she had never yelled loudly at the door of the house. "You'd better love than protect!" Maxim shrugged his shoulders and quickened his pace. In winter, I am standing here. Everything is the same as before, the secluded doorway, the sound of cars behind, the dim light of street lamps, but the weather is colder.And all this seems simple and clear, just like the feeling of a young American policeman on his first tour in the movie. Uphold the law, hunt down the evil, and protect the innocent. If only everything were as simple and clear as it has been for twelve or twenty years, and forever.If only there were really only two colors in the world—black and white.Even the most loyal and honest policeman, trained by the famous idea of ​​the Stars and Stripes, will sooner or later understand that there is not only darkness and light in the streets, but also compromises, concessions, contracts, spies, traps, and sowing discords.Sooner or later he would have to hand over his own men, or smuggle packets of heroin into someone's pocket, or carefully punch someone in the buttock so as not to leave a lynching mark. And everything—is to cater to those most common norms. Uphold the law, hunt down the evil, and protect the innocent. I also have to understand this. I walked down a narrow brick path and hooked one foot to a piece of newspaper at the foot of the wall.Right here, the hapless vampire has rotted.He was really unlucky, the only thing wrong was to let himself fall in love.What he loves is not the female vampire, but the human being, the victim, his food. That's where I spilled vodka from a bottle and burned a woman's face.And she was chosen by our night watchman by lottery according to the regulations and dedicated to the vampires. Their dark messengers like to talk about freedom, but we often say to ourselves: freedom has limits. And all this may be quite true for those dark and light forces who live among human beings, who are only superior in talent but indistinguishable from human beings in ambition; for those who choose to live by the rules, It may also be perfectly true for the Other who does not create conflict. But they should have crossed that invisible borderline, the one guarded by our patrols, the one that divides darkness from light... This is war.And war is always evil, always has been.Not only will there be heroism and self-sacrifice, but there will also be treachery, meanness, and the unavoidable cold shot.If you don't, you can't fight at all, if you don't - you lose beforehand. After all, what the hell is this?Why fight?Why do I have the right to fight?Standing on the dividing line, standing in the middle, standing between light and darkness, why should I fight?What right do I have to fight?My neighbors are vampires!They never—at least never killed anyone.From the point of view of ordinary human beings, they are polite people, if judged by their behavior-they are much more upright than the boss or Olga. Where are the boundaries?Where is the justification?Where is forgiveness?I don't know how to answer, I can't even answer myself.I just acted by inertia, by old beliefs and dogmas.My colleagues, the combat members of the inspection team, how can they often fight?How do they explain their actions?I do not know about this.But I know their decisions can't help me.Everyone is responsible for their own actions, as the dark slogan says. Most unpleasant of all: I feel that if I don't understand, if I don't feel this limit, I'm doomed.And it's not just me, Svetlana will die, and the boss will be involved in the futile attempt to rescue her.The whole organization of the Moscow night watch patrol will collapse. "That's why there's not a single nail in the furnace." I stood for a while longer with my arms propped on the dirty brick wall.I think back, biting my lip, trying to find the answer.But there is no answer.That means that's destiny. I walked across the cozy and quiet yard towards the "box with brackets".There is a sense of gloom and gloom in this Soviet-era skyscraper, a gloom and gloom that is totally unreasonable but unequivocal.It's a feeling I only get when I'm on a train passing abandoned villages or half-dead lifts.An out-of-place feeling... more like a punch that misses. "Zaburon," I said, "if you hear..." Silence, the kind of silence that comes late at night in Moscow—the sound of cars, music from a window somewhere, and the chirping of insects. "You can't predict everything," I said to the void, "no matter what. Reality always has some surprises. The future is full of uncertainty. You know this, and I know it too." I didn't look around when I crossed the street, didn't pay attention to the traffic.I'm not on a mission, am I? What a feeling of giving up! The tram jingled to a halt on the tracks.The car slowed and rounded the clearing where I was standing.Nothing was there - just the building we fought on the roof three months ago, the darkness, the energy - the twinkle of energy invisible to the human eye. This power, which only a few can see, is growing. I'm not mistaken, this is the center of the typhoon.Is that why I was led here?great.I am coming.Zaburon, you remember that little ignominious defeat.It was impossible not to remember, it was like being slapped in the face of one's own slave. In addition to those lofty goals—and I understand that those goals seemed lofty to him—there was a wish surging in Zaburon, which was once a common weakness of human beings, but is now caused by the twilight world. Become unparalleled powerful. revenge.settle accounts. Play the fighting game again.After a fight, shake your fist. All great magicians, whether in the world of light or in the world of darkness, have the same characteristic - they are tired of ordinary battles and pursue "winning with grace".Humiliate your opponent in every possible way, because ordinary victories have bored you, and such victories are a thing of the past.The big confrontation turned into an endless game of chess.For example, Gesar, the great light magician, would use other people's faces to mock Zaburon, and he also got great pleasure from it. And for me, confrontation is not a game. Perhaps, here lies my opportunity. I drew the pistol from the holster and flipped the safety off.I took a breath—deeply, as if preparing to dive into the water.it's time. Maxim felt that everything would be done quickly this time. There is no need to wait all night at the ambush point, and there is no need to follow for a long time.This time the induction was too clear, not only did he perceive the existence of the incompatible enemy, but he also accurately locked the target. He came to the intersection of Galushkin Street and Yaroslav Street, stood outside the high-rise building, and he looked at the dim, feeble lights flickering in the building.The Darkbringer is there.Maxim felt his presence almost completely.a man.Not strong.He's not a shapeshifter, not a vampire, not a monster, just a dark magician.Considering his lack of ability, you won't have a problem dealing with him.The problem lies elsewhere. Maxim could only hope and pray that such things would not happen so often.Destroying the offspring of darkness day after day—it's not just physical work.The most terrifying thing is the moment when the dagger is pierced into the enemy's heart, everything around begins to tremble, the scene is pure, the color is dim, the sound disappears, and the action is slow.What would he do if he made a mistake once?he does not know. But since he is the only one in the whole world who can distinguish the dark messenger from ordinary people, there is no way.Since God, fate, and chance only put weapons in his hands. Maxim took out the dagger.He looked at the thing, feeling a little bored and flustered.He did not sharpen this short sword himself, nor did he take its famous name "Compassionate Heart". They, he and Peterka, were twelve years old at the time, and Peterka was probably his only childhood friend and, I will tell you the truth, the only good friend of his life.They were keen to play Knight Wars together, in fact, they had many childhood entertainments but no video games.The children in the whole residential area played together, and it was a short summer.They whittled wooden swords and daggers, and fought each other seriously and with all their strength, but they were careful with each other.Their heads are not stupid, and they know that using wood can also hit blind eyes, or beat blood.Oddly enough, he and Peterka have always been on different camps.Perhaps because of Peterka's young age, Maxim felt a little embarrassed in the presence of the little Peterka, who looked at him with passionate eyes and followed him silently like a lover.In a round of engagement Maxim knocked down the dagger that Pyotrka held in his hand-it was hardly knocked out of his hand-and cried: "You are captured!" However, what happened next was a bit strange.Peterka silently handed him the short sword and said that the heroic knight should end his life by this "compassionate heart" instead of being insulted as a captive.It's just a game, of course, a game.It's just that when Maxim made a move and pretended to assassinate with a dagger, he felt a little flustered for some reason.He could hardly bear it for a brief moment, when Peterka looked alternately at his hand, which was laying the dummy weapon by the dirty white football shirt, and then in his eyes, and said suddenly: "Stay there." , this will be your trophy." Maxim happily accepted the dagger without hesitation.Both as a trophy and as a gift.But for some reason, he never took it with him to participate in the game.He kept it at home, trying to forget it, as if embarrassed by the unexpected gift and his own sentimentality at the time.But he remembered it, always remembered it.Even when he grew up, got married, and his own children grew up—he didn’t forget.Toy weapons were kept with childhood albums, envelopes with locks of hair, and other tender trinkets until the day Maxim first felt that there was darkness in the world. Then the short sword seemed to call him, and the toy knife transformed into a real weapon, brutal, invincible, merciless. But Peterka was no longer there.What separates them is adolescent adolescence: a difference of one year is great for children, but a real abyss for teenagers.Later life separated them further and further.When they met, they smiled, shook hands, shared a hearty drink or two, and reminisced about their childhood.Later Maxim got married and moved, and his contact with Peterka was broken.This winter, he had heard about Peterka by chance.He has a habit of calling his mother every night, just like any good son.On this day, his mother said to him, "Do you remember Peterka? You two were such good friends in childhood, you can't be separated or broken up." He remembered, and understood immediately what this opening statement meant. He fell to his death, jumping off the roof of a tall building.But why did he go there in the middle of the night?Maybe he wanted to kill himself, maybe he was drunk, but the doctors said he wasn't drunk.Perhaps he was killed.He works for a commercial establishment, earns a decent income, has spare time to help his parents, and drives a nice car. "He's on drugs," Maxim said with certainty at the time, and even his mother didn't dare to argue with him. "He's on drugs. He's always been a bit weird." Maxim's heart rhythm was not abnormal, nor was it painful, but that night he got drunk for some reason alone, and then went to kill a man who used dark power to force the men around him to abandon their lovers and return to their legal wives and killed an elderly witch who was pimping and breaking up other families, after he had been stalking her for two weeks. Pyotrka was gone, the little boy with whom he had been friends had been gone for years, and that Pyotr Nesterov whom he saw only once a year, sometimes even less, had been gone three months ago.But the short sword given to him is still there. It, and the raw, innocent childhood friendship between them, probably wasn't for nothing. Maxim played with the dagger in his palm for a while.But why, why is he alone?Why was there no friend around him, a friend who could take even some of the burden off his shoulders?There are so many dark forces around and so few light forces. For some reason, he recalled Lianna's last words when she chased him: "You'd better love, not protect!" "Isn't that the same thing?" Maxim asked inwardly. Yes, not the same, probably not the same thing.For them, love is fighting, fighting, not agreeing, but what about this kind of people? Oppose darkness instead of pursuing light. Do not pursue light, but oppose darkness. "I am the guardian." Maxim said.He was talking to himself in a low voice, as if embarrassed to speak out loud.This is the schizophrenic talking to himself.But he is not mentally ill, he is a normal person, he is very normal, he can see the evil that is slowly spreading in the world. Is it spreading slowly, or is it taking root here very early? This is crazy.It can't be like this, and it can't be doubted at all.If he lost even a part of his faith, allowed himself to relax a little, or sought out allies who didn't exist, he was doomed, and the short sword would not become the shining sword that drove the darkness away.Magicians everywhere will burn him with magic fire, witches will enchant him, and shapeshifters will tear him to pieces. He is the Guardian and Judge! He should not be shaken. A mass of darkness lingering on the ninth floor suddenly moved down, and his heart beat faster: the dark messenger came to meet his destiny.Maxim got out of the car and looked around hastily.nobody.As always, something lurking in him would drive away casual witnesses and clear the field. battlefield?Maybe a guillotine? Is it the guardians and judges? Or the executioner? What a difference!He serves the light! The familiar power filled his whole body and excited him.Maxim grabbed the lapel of his suit with his hands, walked towards the gate, and walked towards the dark magician who came down from the elevator. Quick, everything must be done as soon as possible.In any case, the night was not too deep, maybe someone would see it, and in that case no one would believe his words... In that case, the best ending for him would be to be sent to a mental hospital. According to the procedure, he had to stop the dark magician first, say his name, and then draw out his weapon. a piece of cake.Compassionate heart.He is the guardian and judge.Knights of the Force of Light.Not an executioner at all! This courtyard is a battlefield, not a guillotine. Maxim was standing in front of the gate, when he heard footsteps and the "click" of the lock being unlocked. And he was so wronged and frightened that he wanted to cry. While shouting, he cursed God, fate and his unprecedented gift. The dark magician turned out to be a little boy. Little brunette boy.The appearance is very ordinary - only Maxim can see the black bioelectric field trembling around. why?This has never happened before.He had killed women and men, young and old, but he had never met a child who had sold his soul to the powers of darkness.Maxim hadn't even thought about it, either he didn't want to admit the possibility of such a thing, or he had long refused to make such a conjecture.If he had known that the next victim would be only twelve years old, perhaps he would have preferred to stay at home. The little boy stood at the gate, looking at Maxim in bewilderment.In an instant, he seemed to feel that the little boy would turn around and run back: OK, run!run! The little boy took a step forward, grabbing the door so it wouldn't slam too loudly.He looked at Maxim - frowning slightly, but not at all frightened.This is really puzzling, he did not regard Maxim as a casual passerby, he knew that someone was waiting for him.So he came forward by himself.Isn't he afraid?Or is he confident enough in his dark mana? "You are the Lightbringer, I can see that," said the little boy.The voice was quiet, but firm. "Yes." Maxim stared at him, then looked away, and said reluctantly and unwillingly.While cursing himself for being weak, Maxim stretched out a hand and grabbed the little boy's shoulder: "I am the judge." He is not afraid at all. "I saw Anton today." What Anton?Maxim remained silent, with a puzzled look in his eyes. "You came to me because of him?" "No. I'm here for you." "why?" The little boy's tone was slightly provocative, as if he had had a long dispute with Maxim in the past, as if Maxim was at fault for something and had to admit his fault. "I am the judge," repeated Maxim.He wanted to turn around and run away.It shouldn't be like this, no!The Dark Mage couldn't have been a child of his daughter's age.The dark mage should defend himself, attack the enemy, should run - but don't stand there looking aggrieved, like he deserves it. As if something could protect him. "What's your name?" Maxim asked. "Egor." "I really don't want such a result." Maxim said frankly, without the satisfaction of a sadist who delays the killing process. "Hell, my daughter is your age!" For some reason this troubled him the most. "But if it's not me, who is it?" "What do you mean?" The little boy wanted to shake off his hand.This made him make up his mind. Boys - girls, adults - children.How much difference can it make?Darkness and light—this is the essential difference. "I should save you," Maxim said, taking out the dagger from his pocket with his free hand, "I should—save you."

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