measured wail. Kostya lurched backwards and forwards, trying to break through Edgar's line of defence.
I raised my hand and directed a 'grey prayer' at Kostya – an ancient spell against non-life. The 'grey prayer' tears to shreds any organic matter raised from the grave that possesses no consciousness of its own and lives only through the will of a sorcerer. It slows vampires down and weakens them.
Kostya swung round when the fine grey threads wrapped themselves around him in the Twilight. He took a step towards me, shook himself – and the spell was torn apart before my eyes. I'd never seen such crude but effective work before.
'Don't get in my way!' he bellowed. Kostya's features had lengthened and sharpened, his fangs were all the way out now. 'I don't want . . . I don't want to kill you . . .'
I managed to get up and crawl over the felled passenger into a compartment. On the top bunks, two men of impressive dimensions started squealing, outdoing the woman who was yelling outside by the door of the washroom. There were glasses and bottles rolling around on the floor underneath me.
In a single bound Kostya appeared in the doorway. He cast a glance at the men – and they fell silent.
'Surrender . . .' I whispered, sitting up on the floor beside the table. The way my jaw moved felt strange – it didn't seem to be dislocated, but every movement was agony.
Kostya laughed:
'I can finish you all off . . . if I want to. Come with me, Anton. Come! I don't want to hurt anyone! What's this Inquisition to you? Or these Watches? We'll change everything!'
He was speaking utterly sincerely. Actually pleading.
Why do you always have to become stronger than anyone else before you can permit yourself weakness?
'Come to your senses . . .' I whispered.
'You fool! You fool!' Kostya growled, taking a step towards me. He reached out his hand – the fingers already ended in claws. 'You . . .'
A half-full bottle of Posolskaya vodka, with its contents draining out lazily, rolled right into my hand.
'It's time we drank to Brüderschaft,' I said.
Kostya managed to dodge, but a few splashes still got him in the face. He howled and threw his head back. Even for the Highest Vampire of them all, alcohol is still poison.
I stood up, grabbed a full glass off the little table and drew my hand back. I shouted:
'Night Watch! You're under arrest! Put your hands above your head! Withdraw your fangs!'
At precisely that moment three Inquisitors appeared in the doorway. Either Edgar had summoned them, or they'd sensed something was wrong. They grabbed hold of Kostya, who was still wiping his bloody face. One of them tried to press a grey metal disk against his neck – something charged up to the hilt with magic . . .
Then Kostya showed what he was really capable of.
A kick sent the glass flying out of my hand and flattened my back against the window. The frame gave a loud crack. And then where Kostya had been standing there was nothing but a grey blur – the punches and kicks followed each other faster than any movie hero could have thrown them. There were splashes of blood and scraps of flesh flying in all directions, as if someone was grinding up a piece of fresh meat in a blender. Then Kostya jumped into the corridor, glanced around – and dived through the window as if he hadn't even noticed the twin panes of thick glass.
The glass didn't notice him either.
I caught one last glimpse of Kostya outside, tumbling down the embankment – and then the train hurtled on.
I'd heard about that vampire trick, but I'd always thought it was pure fantasy. Even in the textbooks the phrase 'walking through walls and panes of glass in the real world' was marked with a prudish 'n.p.' – for 'not proven'.
Two of the Inquisitors were lying in a shapeless heap in the compartment, so badly mutilated there was no point in trying to find any kind of pulse.
The third one had been lucky: he was sitting on a bunk, squeezing shut a wound in his stomach.
There was blood slopping down over his feet.
The passengers on the upper bunks weren't yelling any more – one had covered his head with a pillow, the other was staring down with glassy eyes and giggling to himself.
I picked my way across the compartment and staggered out into the corridor.