“Why do you assume it’s unlicensed?” Denis asked. “Here!”

A thin sheet of “parchment paper” unfurled in his hand. I could have spent a long time drearily checking all the numbers, signatures, seals and magical signs . . . Only I could see perfectly well that the license was genuine.

“She’s not fifteen yet,” I said for some reason.

“And I’m twenty,” Denis said. “Licenses are issued beginning from the age of twelve, if there are no Others among the immediate relatives. It’s all legal.”

Sasha started breathing heavily behind me.

“It’s your right,” I said in an absolutely flat voice. I looked down at my feet—and the blue moss stirred as if someone had splashed petrol on it and set it on fire. “But you are really very young, Denis. I don’t dispute your rights, but I would like to remind you that many vampires live for hundreds of years without using their licenses to hunt. Instead you can be granted various kinds of privileges under the terms of agreement number sixty-four, article seventeen, of the third of July—”

“I have read and signed all the required documents, I know my rights and obligations,” the vampire said politely. “I can confirm once again that everything will be done as humanely as possible, painlessly and quickly. And now, gentlemen of the Watch, I ask you . . . please leave the Twilight!”

“Why?” Sasha suddenly exclaimed. “Tell me why, you ugly vampire scum!”

I swung round and grabbed Sasha firmly by the shoulder. The last thing we needed was a complaint from a vampire to the Day Watch about unprovoked insults and discrimination on the grounds of nutritional preferences.

But this was a modern vampire—young, polite, and restrained.

“Because such are the laws of nature,” he explained amiably. “Because people constantly take great pleasure in devouring each other. Most often in a figurative sense, but far more cruelly and painfully than vampires or werewolves. I did not choose my destiny, I did not choose my way of life—or death, if you prefer. But I will not pretend to be a sheep when I am a wolf. So now leave us . . . The Call is weakening, the girl could come round and become frightened, and you will be to blame!”

“Remember one thing,” I said without turning away. “You may be a wolf, but we are wolfhounds.”

I was already on my way out of the Twilight, dragging Sasha along, when I heard a shout from behind me: “My father kept an Irish wolfhound, a fine dog. Only they don’t live long.”

I had to grab hold of Sasha and thrust him bodily against the parapet, otherwise he would have gone dashing back into the Twilight.

“Why he, he . . .” the young watchman fumed.

“He mocked us and provoked us, especially you,” I said. “Calm down. He’s within his rights.”

“But now he’ll kill the young girl!”