Story Two
A STRANGER AMONG OTHERS

Prologue

He could already make out the lights of the station glimmering up ahead, but inside the gloomy, neglected park beside the Zarya factory the darkness remained as dense and chill as ever. The thin crust of ice over the snow crunched under his feet¡ª it would probably thaw out again before noon. Locomotive whistles in the distance, incomprehensible announcements over the radio relay system, and the crunching under his own feet¡ªthese were the only sounds anyone who happened to be out strolling could have heard if he wandered into the park at that time of night.

But no one had set foot in here at night for a long time now. Not even people out walking massive canines with huge teeth¡ª dogs could not save them from what they might meet in the darkness of night among the oaks that had grown tall here over the last forty years.

The solitary traveler with a bulky bag over his shoulder was clearly late for a train. He decided to take a shortcut and go through the park, along the path, with his feet sometimes crunching the thin ice, sometimes the gravel. The stars gazed down in amazement at this bold spirit. The round disk of the moon, as yellow as a pool of Advocaat liqueur, shone its light through the jagged, naked branches. The fantastic forms of the lunar seas were like the shadows of human fears.

The traveler noticed the twin gleam of a pair of eyes when he was still thirty meters from the final trees. He was being watched from the gaunt, skeletal bushes that stretched along both sides of the path. There was the vague, dark form of something over there, in the low thickets; perhaps not even something, but someone, because this dense patch of darkness was alive. Or at least it could move.

A dull growl¡ªnothing like a roar, more like a low, hollow squawk¡ªwas the only sound that accompanied the lightning-swift attack. A wide mouthful of sharp teeth glinted in the moonlight.

The moon had readied itself for fresh blood. For a fresh victim.

But the attacker suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, as if he had run into an invisible barrier, stood there for a moment, and then collapsed onto the path with a ludicrous squeal.

The traveler paused for a second.

"What are you doing, you blockhead?" he hissed at his attacker. "Do you want me to shout for the Night Watch?"

The patch of darkness at the traveler's feet growled resentfully.

"It's lucky for you that I'm late..." said the traveler, adjusting the bag across his shoulder. "What damn nonsense is this, Others attacking Others..." He strode on rapidly across the last few meters of the park and hurried toward the station without looking back.

His attacker crawled off the path, under the trees, and there he transformed into a young man of about twenty, completely naked. The young man was tall with broad shoulders. The crust of ice crunched under his bare feet, but he didn't seem to feel the cold.

"Damn!" he whispered fiercely, and then shivered for the first time. "Who the hell was that?"

He was still hungry, still feeling savage, but this strange victim who had escaped had robbed him completely of any desire to carry on hunting. He was frightened now, although only a few minutes earlier he had been certain that everyone should be afraid of him¡ªa werewolf out on the hunt. The heady, intoxicating hunt for human flesh. And the hunt was unlicensed¡ª which made the sensation of risk and his own daring even keener.

Two things in particular had completely blunted the hunter's ardor. First, the words "Night Watch"¡ªafter all, he didn't have a license. And second, the fact that he had failed to recognize his intended victim as an Other. An Other like him.

Not long ago the werewolf and any of the Others that he knew would have said that was simply impossible.

Still in the form of a naked human being, the werewolf hurried through the low thickets to the spot where he had left his clothes. Now he would have to hide for many, many days, instead of prowling through the park at night hoping to chance upon a victim. He would have to stay hidden away, waiting for sanctions from the Night Watch, or maybe even from his own side.

His only hope was that this solitary traveler, who had not been afraid to cut across the park in the dark, this strange Other¡ªor someone pretending to be an Other¡ªreally had been hurrying to catch a train. That he would catch it and leave the city. And then he wouldn't be able to contact the Night Watch.

Others also know how to hope.