am. I assume he's more powerful than either of you. Maybe more powerful than all of us put together.'

'Don't start panicking,' Zabulon muttered. 'He's inexperienced. Magic isn't arm-wrestling, magic's an art. When you have a sword in your hand, the important thing is to strike a precise blow, not just swing wildly with all your might . . .'

'I'm not panicking,' Edgar said in a soft voice. 'It's just hard to assess his level of power. It's very high. I used the "crystal shield" – Kostya very nearly broke through it.'

The Great Ones exchanged glances

'The "crystal shield" can't be broken,' Gesar observed. 'And anyway, how could you . . . all right, I understand. More artefacts from the special vault.'

'He very nearly broke through the shield,' Edgar repeated.

'And how did you manage to survive?' Gesar asked me. Maybe I imagined it, but I thought I heard a note of sympathy in his voice.

'Kostya didn't want to kill me,' I said simply. 'He went for Edgar . . . at first I hit him with the "grey prayer"' – Gesar nodded in approval – 'and then I found some vodka and I splashed it in his face. Kostya went wild. But he still didn't want to kill me. Then the Inquisitors distracted him, he tore them to shreds, and left.'

'A purely Russian approach – solving a problem with a glass of vodka,' Gesar said morosely. 'What for? Why did you provoke him? He's not a novice. It must have been obvious you couldn't handle him. Was I supposed to present Svetlana with your remains afterwards?'

'I got carried away myself,' I admitted. 'It was all just so unexpected. Then Kostya started saying "Come with me, I don't want to hurt anyone . . ."' 'He doesn't want to hurt anyone,' Gesar said bitterly. 'A vampire reformer. A progressive lord of the world . . .'

'Gesar, we have to decide what to do,' Zabulon said quietly. 'I can have the fighters from the military airport scrambled.'

Neither magician spoke for a while.

I imagined jet fighters screeching through the sky in pursuit of a bat, blazing away at it with their rockets . . .

A phantasmagorical vision.

'Helicopters then . . .' Gesar said thoughtfully. 'No. That's nonsense, Zabulon. He'll just brush any humans aside.'

'A bomb after all then?' Zabulon asked curiously.

'No!' Gesar shook his head. 'No. Not here. And it's too late for that . . . he's on the alert. We have to strike at him with magic.'

Zabulon nodded. Then suddenly he started giggling.

'What's this?' Gesar asked.

'All my life . . .' said Zabulon. 'Would you believe it, my old enemy? All my life I've dreamed of working in harness with you! Well, now I really am . . . from hatred to love . . .'

'You really are an absolute goon,' Gesar said in a quiet voice.

'We're all a little touched,' Zabulon chuckled. 'Well then? You and me? Or shall we bring in our colleagues? They can pump in power, and we can be the spearhead, striking the blow.'

Gesar shook his head.

'No, Zabulon. We shouldn't go near Konstantin. I have a different suggestion . . .'

He looked at me.

I felt at the broken stump of a tooth with my tongue. That was a real drag.

'I'm ready, Gesar.'

'Yes, there's a chance,' Zabulon said, with a nod of approval. 'Since Kostya still allows sentimental considerations to influence him . . . the only thing is, will you be able to strike at him, Anton?'

I paused. I had to think about it seriously.

There was no question of an arrest. I'd have to strike swiftly and surely and kill him. Become the spearhead, the focus of the power that would be pumped into me by Gesar, Zabulon, Edgar . . . maybe other magicians as well. Sure, I was less experienced than the Great Ones. But there was a chance I could get close to Kostya without a fight.

On account of those 'sentimental considerations'.

The alternative was simple – the Great Ones would gather all their power into a single fist. Even Nadya's power would be required – and Gesar would demand that Svetlana initiate our daughter . . .

There was no alternative.

'I'll kill Kostya,' I said.

'Wrong,' Gesar said in a low voice. 'Say it right, watchman!'

'I'll subdue the vampire,' I whispered.

Gesar nodded.

'And don't get all introspective about it, Gorodetsky,' Zabulon added. 'None of your intellectual snivelling. That nice boy Kostya doesn't exist any more. He never did. Maybe he hasn't killed anybody for blood, but he's still