“Yes, most likely,” I said. I took out a cigarette and lit up. “Do you know how many people are killed in Moscow in a single night? And, by the way, most of them are killed by other humans, not by Others.”

“But—”

“We’re not knights in search of a damsel in distress,” I said.

“We’re police! We guard and protect!”

“No, we’re not even police. We’re bureaucrats who ensure the observance of laws that we don’t even like. We’re dogs who guard the herd against the wolves, but we don’t bite the shepherds who cook kebabs in the evenings. Calm down.”

Alexander took a step back, staring at me in horror. Then he shook his head and said with genuine revulsion:

“I don’t believe it. Honestly, I just don’t believe it! You, Anton Gorodetsky . . . you’re a hero, you’ve done so much . . . they told us about you in our classes, I watched the training films about how you—”

“The training films have actors in them,” I said. “And in the classes they tell you legends.”

There was a rustling sound behind my back. The girl’s limp body appeared in midair, hung there for a second, then flew over the parapet and hurtled down towards the water.

A second later the vampire appeared, looking pink-cheeked, cheerful, and handsome. With a slight inclination of the head, as if he was saying goodbye, he swung round and dashed away from us across the bridge at an incredible speed.

Below us, in the cold, dirty water of the river Moscow, there was a barely audible splash.

Sasha stared at me, glassy-eyed.

“Remember, I told you the important thing is to understand whether it’s necessary to jump or not?” I asked.

Sasha didn’t answer.

“Well, that’s the entire problem here,” I explained. I spat the cigarette over the parapet—and jumped after it.

The river struck my legs like repulsive, heavy meat jelly that instantly liquefied, turning into icy autumnal water. I went right under, opened my eyes, and looked at the lights shining through the water. If I didn’t look too hard, I could have taken them for stars . . .

The girl’s body was slowly sinking quite near me. I had already made two broad strokes when the sound of a sharp blow struck my ears—another body had hit the water.

“Are you stupid?” I asked, once I was sure that Sasha had stopped coughing up water. “Why did you jump, if you can’t swim?”

“But you, you said . . .” he groaned, sitting up.

“What did I say?”

“That you . . . have to . . .”

“That you always have to understand what you’re doing,” I reminded him pitilessly. “You’re a Magician. An Other. A Light One. So you should be especially ashamed of being a fool!”