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No, I wasn't the slightest bit in love with her. Maybe because I remembered her in her non-human form, maybe
because we'd become friends and partners so quickly. Maybe because of the centuries that separated her birth
from mine: What did a young body mean, when you could see the dust of the centuries in the other person's
eyes? We'd become friends, and nothing more.
But standing next to a woman whose body still remembers someone else's caresses, pressing yourself against
her-that's a strange feeling...
"Right, let's begin..." said the boss, perhaps a bit too sharply. And then he uttered some words I didn't
understand, in some ancient language that hadn't been used for thousands of years.
Flying.
It really was like flying. As if the ground had slipped away from under my feet and I'd become weightless. An
orgasm in free fall, LSD mainlined straight into the bloodstream, electrodes in the subcortical pleasure centers...
I was swept away in a torrent of wild, unadulterated joy that came out of nowhere, and the world dimmed and
blurred. I would have fallen, but the power streaming out of the boss's raised hands held Olga and me up on
invisible strings, making us arch over and press ourselves against each other.
And then the strings got tangled up.
"I'm sorry, Anton," said Boris Ignatievich, "but we didn't have any time for hesitation and explanations."
I didn't answer. I was dumbfounded, sitting there on the floor and staring at my hands, at those slim fingers with
the two silver rings, at my legs-those long, shapely legs still damp after my bath, in jeans that were clinging too
tight, at the blue and white sneakers on my little feet.
"It's not for long," the boss said.
"What the..." I almost swore, jerking forward and trying to jump to my feet, but the sound of my voice made me
cut my oath short. A low, vibrant, soft woman's voice.
"Calm down, Anton." The young man standing beside me reached out his hand and helped me up.
If not for that, I'd probably have fallen over. My center of balance had completely changed. I was shorter, and the
world looked quite different...
"Olga?" I asked, looking at what used to be my face. My partner, now the inhabitant of my body, nodded. Totally
confused, I gazed into her... into my face and I saw I hadn't shaved properly that morning. And there was a little,
angry red pimple on my forehead that would have done credit to any teenage slob going through puberty.
"Calm down, Anton. It's the first time I've ever swapped sexes too."
Somehow I believed her. Despite her great age, Olga might never have found herself in this particular ticklish
situation before.
"Have you got your bearings now?" the boss asked.
I looked myself over again, first raising my hands to my face and then looking at my reflection in the glass doors
of the shelves.
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"Let's go," said Olga, tugging at my arm. "Just one moment, Boris..." Her movements were as uncertain as mine.
Maybe she was even less steady. "Light and Darkness, how do you men walk?" she suddenly exclaimed.
It was then that the irony of the situation struck me and I started laughing. They'd hidden me, the target of the
Dark Side's plot, in a woman's body. In the body of the boss's lover, who was as old as the hills.
Olga literally pushed me into the bathroom-I couldn't help feeling quite pleased I was so strong-and bent me down
over the Jacuzzi. Then she squirted a jet of cold water straight into my face from the shower head she'd left lying
ready on the soft-pink ceramic surface.
I snorted and twisted free of her grip, suppressing the urge to smack Olga-or was it me, really?-across the face.
The motor reflexes of this other body seemed to be coming awake.
"I'm not hysterical," I said. "It really is funny."
"Are you sure?" Olga screwed up her eyes, looking hard at me. Was that really the expression I had when I was
trying to look benevolent and doubtful at the same time?
"Absolutely."
"Then take a look at yourself."
I went across to the mirror, which was on the same massive scale as everything else in this secret bathroom,
and gazed at myself.
The result was strange. As I looked at my new form, I began feeling completely calm. The shock would probably
have been worse if I'd been in another man's body. But this was okay; it just felt like the beginning of a fancy
dress party.
"Are you influencing me at all?" I asked. "You or the boss?"
"No."
"I must have pretty strong nerves then."
"You've smudged your lipstick," Olga commented. She chuckled. "Do you know how to put lipstick on?"
"Are you crazy? Of course not."
"I'll teach you. It's not that tricky. You're really lucky, Anton."
"How's that?"
"One week later, and I'd have had to teach you to use panty liners."
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Chapter 2
After I stepped out of the office I paused for a moment, fighting the temptation to go back in.
I could reject the boss's plan at any moment. I only had to go back in and say a few words, and Olga and I would
be returned to our own bodies. But in half an hour of conversation I'd been told enough to make me accept that
switching bodies was the only way to handle this provocation by the Dark Ones.
After all, it doesn't really make much sense to refuse life-saving treatment because the injections hurt.
I had the keys to Olga's apartment in my purse, together with her money and credit card in a little billfold,
makeup, a little handkerchief, a panty liner-what for, when I wasn't supposed to need it?-a little box of Tic Tacs, a
comb, a layer of small items scattered on the bottom, a mirror, a tiny cell phone...
But the empty pockets of the jeans made me feel like I must have lost something. I rummaged in them for a
second or two, trying to find at least a forgotten coin, but was soon convinced that Olga carried everything in her
purse, the way most women do.
You might have thought I'd just lost things that were a bit more important than the contents of my pockets. But it
was a detail that irritated me, so I transferred a few bank notes from the handbag to my pocket and that made me
feel a bit more confident.
It was a shame Olga didn't carry a Walkman, though...
"Hi," said Garik, walking toward me. "Is the boss free?"
"He's... he's with Anton..." I replied.
"What's happened, Olya?" Garik asked, looking at me closely. I don't know what it was he'd sensed: a different
intonation, hesitant movements, a new aura. But if a field operative that neither Olga nor I had ever spent much
time with could sense the swap, I wasn't doing too well.
And then Garik gave me a timid, uncertain smile. That was entirely unexpected: I'd never noticed Garik trying to
flirt with the Watch's female employees. He even has trouble getting to know human women, he's so incredibly
unlucky when it comes to romance.
"Nothing. We had a bit of an argument." I turned away without saying goodbye and walked to the staircase.
That was my cover story for the Night Watch-in the highly unlikely event that we had one of the other side's
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agents among us. As far as I know, that's something that's only happened once or twice in the entire history of
the Watch, but you can never tell... Might as well let everyone think Boris Ignatievich had a falling out with his old
girlfriend.
There was a plausible reason, a good one. A hundred years of imprisonment in his office, without any chance to
assume human form, partial rehabilitation, but with the loss of most of her magical powers. That was more than
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