“That’s always the most important thing, understanding whether it’s necessary or not . . . Sasha, they’ll come here, because this is where the Call’s directed. When I was a little bit older than you, but probably not any stronger, it was very hard for me even to sense the vampire Call and to follow it. But now I can do a little bit more . . . and I know that the vampire is walking along the Bersenevskaya Embankment, and the girl is walking along the Prechistenka Embankment. Just recently it has become highly fashionable among vampires to take their victim on a bridge, then throw the body into the water. By the time it’s fished out, no one can tell what the person died of.”

“Why can’t they tell?” Sasha asked indignantly. “What about the loss of blood? And the marks from the fangs?”

“Just think about it,” I said, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “You’re a forensic pathologist. They bring you a body fished out of the water, considerably damaged, battered against the riverbank or the supports of a bridge . . .”

Sasha started turning pale. He was still young. A good lad, but young . . .

“Even if you notice that there are small wounds of some kind on the body and there is almost no blood in it, what are you going to think? That there are vampires walking the streets of Moscow? Or that some young fool in love leapt into the water and spiked herself on a piece of metal as she fell?”

“I would consider all the possibilities,” Sasha decided.

“That’s why you’re in the Watch,” I said.

Sasha paused while he glanced vigilantly to the left and the right. Then he asked timidly: “Won’t the church stop them?”

I glanced at the massive, attractively illuminated building and shook my head.

“Not this one, it won’t stop them. In general vampires aren’t afraid of religion—if they believed in God, they wouldn’t have become vampires. But you’re right in the sense that a genuine church, a shrine, can protect the victim. If it’s close by and the victim believes. Do you understand? It doesn’t frighten the vampire, it protects the victim.”

“I think I understand,” said Sasha, nodding thoughtfully. “But why won’t this one help?”

“There are many factors,” I replied evasively.

Sasha stood there, fiddling with a little lock dangling on the railings of the bridge. A funny habit that modern lovers have—come to the bridge, kiss, hang up a lock—and it’s as if they have locked up their love.

But love shouldn’t be locked up. That’s not what it’s given to us for.

“I can sense him,” Sasha exclaimed excitedly. “He’s coming! From the left!”

“I know,” I said.

“He won’t . . .”