Blood

Kostya's apartment is always well kept, though I suspect his father is the only reason that it's stayed that war, the foremost evidence supporting that theory being that Kostya's own room is about as neat as a post-carnage battlefield. Coming into the apartment, I felt right at home, and I knew why: the curtains throughout the place had been pulled closed, creating a slightly dank, murky ambience. Despite what popular culture would have you believe, vampires don't spontaneously combust from sunlight, but they don't exactly like it, either. And me, the supposed counterpart, conducting most of my work in the nighttime, I've got used to living like that too. As much a pariah as any vampire.

Besides, my newfound enthusiasm for soothing darkness had proven to work well with my having no discipline at all when it came to cleaning. Also, it helped with the reoccurring headaches.

"Do you want something?" Kostya called from the kitchen. I closed the door behind me, locking it, and made my way to him. He was standing by the fridge, inspecting the shelves.

"What do you have?" I asked hesitantly. I still wasn't feeling too well, and my instincts and experience told me any sort of solid food would've been a really bad idea.

Kostya turned his head and gave me a fleeting glance. He then proceeded to pull out a small, capped bottle with a dark substance whirling around inside it.

"Got blood," he muttered.

I looked away, out of the window, and I could feel him eyeing me, trying to catch my reaction. "Thanks, but no thanks," I replied.

Him offering me blood was such a blatant provocation, and I couldn't help but give a slight smile at his childish behaviour. He was a grown-up, but he was still so much of a teenager. Lately, he'd made it into a game, testing me to see what made me tick. I'd be lying if I said there wasn't some part of me that was amused by this, but it kind of annoyed me at the same time. For some reason it really got to me: him feeling the need to establish our differences like that.

"Suit yourself," he said, pouring some for himself into a black Nescafe cup and chucking it in the microwave. I felt a bit queasy, seeing Kostya warm the blood up… for that special, fresh-out-of-the-jugular feel. I remembered suddenly he'd signed up at the university, wanting to find a cure for his "disease". I suppose he's stopped pursuing his hopeless dream by now.

Sitting down opposite me at the table, looking at me, he took a hearty swig from his freshly warmed cup of blood, licking his lips dry from the red substance. I found myself following the movement of his tongue across his mouth: slow, careful to catch every last drop of plasma. I guess sometimes when you're tired and generally burnt out, your brain's not fully operational, and it causes you to fixate on the most insignificant details…

When I finally snapped out of it, I realised Kostya was watching me, closely. I couldn't interpret the look on his face – inquiring, and at the same time somehow standoffish – it was useless trying to figure him out.

"You look like shit, Anton," he finally stated.

I gave a short laugh. "Thank you for being honest."

"Late night?"

"You could say that."

"Did you…" He broke off his own sentence, but didn't look away for a second. "Were you hunting? I mean… were you on duty?"

I frowned. "No. I just couldn't sleep, that's all."

Ever since that run-in with the hairdresser, Andrei, I had seen far less of Kostya than I had done before. I'd been busy keeping my life from coming apart at the seams, of course… but that wasn't the real reason. I knew Kostya had been friends with the vampire, and I had killed him. Andrei had been in violation of the Treaty – Kostya knew that – but try explaining to an eighteen-year-old why it was necessary to kill off his friend like a rabid dog. The old "it's just my job" routine just didn't apply here.

It was only natural for things to become a bit strained between us, but at least it had been getting steadily better over the last few weeks. Still, here we were… for some reason, it felt hard to talk. I decided to put it down to us both being tired, not yet fully awake.

"My father's at work," Kostya said, after having sat quietly for a few minutes. He had grabbed a teaspoon from the table and was now swirling it around in the blood, staring at the rips and curls on the surface, stirring maniacally. I got the feeling he was nervous about something – I didn't even need to read his aura for that. His body language was doing a fine job advertising it as it was. "I think he wanted me to help out today, but I couldn't get out of bed. I've been so tired lately. Like I'm maybe getting sick or something."

"That's unlikely," I replied automatically. Vampires very rarely get sick, and when they do, it's usually some magical malady. I suppose it's hard for a normal, garden-variety virus to take hold of a body that is by all appearances dead.

"I know." He looked up at me, again with that quizzical, weird look on his face. "It's just… well, you don't look well, either… I figured maybe we had caught the same thing."

I looked back at him, sceptically. "I don't think so, Kostya. I'm just tired. I've been having a bad week… well, to be honest, I've been having a bad year. I'm not sick, just… losing sleep."

And the best thing about telling Kostya how I was feeling was that he didn't immediately start reassuring me, acting the mother, patting me on the back saying "there, there". He just sat there, watching me, taking in every word of what I was saying. Not judging. Just listening.

"You have a lot on your table right now, eh? Night Watch? Important operations, things like that?" He looked curious.

I sighed. "Kostya, you know I can't tell you that."

"I know. Doesn't mean I can't ask, though." He didn't look offended, but the way he said it told me he felt a bit hurt. And there it was. I couldn't tell him everything that was on my mind. I couldn't confide in him, couldn't trust him as I would trust my other friends, providing I had any.

Bottom line? I couldn't trust him like I could trust Svetlana. Yet he was the only one I could stand talking to at the moment.

Like I'd told myself a billion times: he is Dark. I am Light. I'm not even supposed to fraternise with him, with a vampire, if not strictly for the purpose of attaining information about Day Watch operations. I remembered all too well Olga's reaction to our friendship: a mix of disgust and bewilderment. All these rules of conduct…

"You know," Kostya suddenly said, getting up from his seat and walking over to the fridge for a refill of pig's blood, "I got a visit the other day. Said his name was Edgar. Do you know him?"

"No." It was the truth.

"I thought you knew all the major players in Moscow." The tone of his voice was hard to read. He'd closed up again – I don't know why, but I suddenly felt very uneasy.

"Where are you going with this?" I asked, sounding more wound up than I'd intended. What was he playing at?

"He said he was from the Day Watch. They need reinforcement, and apparently my number's up."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Kostya, working for the Day Watch? This year really was turning out to be all about bad news. Another nail in the coffin of whatever remained of what used to be our friendship, and furthermore – I hated myself for having to even consider this – it meant the Dark Ones were planning something, something big. They had all the staff they needed, and yet they'd started recruiting eighteen-year-olds.

He fixed me with a stern gaze, like he was demanding an answer to some untold question. I could only hope I didn't look as insecure and shaken up as I felt. I decided to turn the tables on him.

"And… how do you feel about that?"

He shrugged, obviously trying to give off an air of indifference. Literally pushing his chin out as if to say: Say what you want. See if I care. "How am I supposed to feel about it? It is what it is."

I rolled my eyes. This teenage business… "Right, I'll rephrase. Is that what you want to do with your life? Work for the Day Watch?"

He laughed, and the laughter sounded empty, metallic. The sound of a complete lack of hope, of faith in what fate would bring. There are few things more frightening than hearing that in someone that young. And the worst thing about it was that I recognised it from myself. "Well, Anton," he said in a patronising tone, "I am a vampire. I was born into Darkness. Might as well…"

"You still have a choice!" I exclaimed. I had a hard time hiding the frustration I was feeling. And somehow I knew that even if I'd made an attempt to, Kostya would've seen right through me anyway. He knows me too well… sometimes I think perhaps better than anyone else.

"Right," Kostya said sarcastically, "let's discuss my options, Light One."

I didn't reply. I didn't want to discuss Kostya's options: I already knew they were few and far between. What chance did a kid like him have, anyway? Born into vampirism. Brought up to shun the light. He hadn't got to choose sides as I had. Whatever he did with his life, he'd still be a creature of darkness.

Kostya was still looking at me. A faint, bitter smile caressed his lips, and for a fraction of a second, I thought I could see a hint of a red shimmer in his eyes. "I didn't think so."

"Look, Kostya…" I sighed again, feeling completely drained of all supposed zest. "I don't know what to say. If you want to join the Day Watch, do it. If you don't, then don't. I don't see why you even told me this in the first place, if not to piss me off. But it's your choice."

Something happened the second I closed my mouth. During the last fifteen or so minutes, I'd watched Kostya grow more and more distant, provoking me, at times almost taunting me. He'd tried to pull off a hard, indifferent attitude toward me and toward his own life—or is that un-life? But after I'd finished talking, I watched that façade crumble. Tough, sarcastic Kostya… he looked lost, suddenly, as though he didn't know what he was doing anymore, or why.

Was he looking for my approval? Was that it? A confused teenager looking for a role model… or some kind of alternative father figure? For some reason, that idea made me sick to my stomach all over again.

Seconds passed. They felt more like hours. When Kostya finally spoke, it was in a quiet, controlled voice. It didn't sound like him at all.

"I'm not evil," he said. Was I hearing things, or did his voice tremble when he spoke?

"I know that, Kostya."

"No, I…" He bit his lip. "You hunt our kind. Kill us."

"We don't hunt vampires. We only track down those in violation of the Treaty. But they've crossed a line. They've killed…"

"You killed Andrei."

"We've been over this." I spoke slowly and carefully. The last thing I wanted was for him to get mad again and run out on me like he had done before. "He attacked me. I know he was your friend, but… he tried to feed off an innocent boy."

"But if he'd had a license…"

"If he'd had a license, I wouldn't have been there in the first place."

There. I'd said it. I felt like the world's biggest hypocrite. I knew which side I'd chosen and why, but there were things about the way we in the Night Watch worked that still kept me sleepless for days at a time. I'd never tell Svetlana this; she wouldn't understand, and it would only mess her up. She's a Great Enchantress in the making – troubling her with my ethical crisis would not only be a waste of time, it would be downright stupid.

All these thoughts flew through my head in an instant, and when I met Kostya's gaze again, I knew he'd understood. Seen everything, my failing self-control and doubts. I'd quite literally bared my neck. And of course he'd understood. Who would understand my doubts and uncertainties about good and evil better than Kostya?

"I have to go," I mumbled, getting to my feet and moving toward the door like I was running from a fire.