Las was standing in the cubicle with his arms out to the sides, holding onto the walls, and gazing around with a crazy expression on his face.

"What are you doing?" I growled. "Why did you follow me?"

"You told me to follow you," said Las, offended. "Big-shot magician!"

I got up. It was stupid to argue.

"I need to stop a crazed vampire," I said. "The most powerful magician in the world at the present time. It's… it's going to get really hot around here pretty soon…"

"Are we at Baikonur then?" Las asked, not frightened in the least. "Now that's what I call magic-that's great! But did we really have to teleport through the drains?"

I just waved one hand at him despairingly. Then I focused intently on what I could hear inside me. Yes, Gesar was somewhere close by, and Zabulon… and Svetlana… and hundreds, thousands of Others. They were waiting.

They were counting on me.

"How can I help?" Las asked. "Maybe I could look for some aspen stakes? By the way, they make matches out of genuine aspen, did you know that? I always wondered why it had to be aspen- does it really burn better than anything else? But now I realize it's for fighting vampires. Sharpen a dozen matches…"

I looked at Las.

He spread his arms apologetically. "All right, all right… I'm only trying to be helpful."

I walked across to the door of the restroom and glanced out. A long corridor, daylight lamps, no windows. At the end of the corridor a man in uniform with a pistol on his belt. A guard? Yes, there had to be security guards here. Even these days.

Only why was the guard frozen in such a stiff, awkward pose?

I went out into the corridor and moved toward the soldier. I called quietly: "Excuse me, do you mind if I ask you something?"

The guard didn't mind. He was staring into space-and smiling. A young man, not even thirty yet. Absolutely rigid. And very pale.

I pressed my fingers against his carotid artery-I could just barely feel the pulse. The bite marks were almost invisible. There were just a few small drops of blood on the collar. Yes, Kostya must have been very tired after that exit he'd made. He'd been in need of refreshment, and there hadn't been any cats around…

But if the soldier was still alive, there was a chance he would make it.

I took his pistol out of the holster-it looked like he must have been reaching for it when the vampire's command made him freeze-and carefully laid him out on the floor. Let him rest. Then I turned around.

Of course, Las had followed me. And now he was gazing at the motionless soldier.

"Can you use a gun?" I asked.

"I'll give it a try."

"If you have to, aim for the head and the heart. If you hit him, it might just slow him down."

Naturally, I was under no illusions. Even if Las emptied the entire clip into Kostya, which was already a dubious proposition, the bullets wouldn't stop a Higher Vampire. But at least it gave Las something to do.

I just hoped he wouldn't get the jitters and shoot me in the back.

Finding Kostya wasn't hard, even without using magic. We came across another three men-a guard and two civilians- who were in a trance and had been bitten. Kostya must have been moving in that vampire style when all movements become too fast for the eye to follow and the process of feeding takes no more than ten seconds.

"Will they become vampires now?" Las asked me.

"Only if he wanted them to. And only if they agreed."

"I didn't think there was any choice about that."

"There's always a choice," I said, opening yet another door.

And I realized we'd arrived.

It was a spacious, brightly lit hall, full of people. At least twenty men. The cosmonauts were here: our captain, the American, and the space tourist-a German chocolate manufacturer.

Naturally, they were all in a state of blissful trance. Apart, that is, from two technicians in white coats, whose eyes were vacant, but whose hands were moving with their customary skill as they helped Kostya put on a spacesuit. It wasn't an easy job- flight suits are made to fit the figure, and Kostya was a bit taller than the German.

The unfortunate tourist, stripped naked-Kostya hadn't even shrunk from putting on his underwear-was sitting at one side, sucking on his index finger.

"I've only got two or three minutes," Kostya said cheerfully. "So don't delay me, Anton. Try to get in my way and I'll kill you."

Naturally, my appearance was no surprise to him.

"They won't let the rocket take off," I said. "What are you expecting? The Higher Ones know what you're planning."

"They'll let it go, they have no choice," Kostya replied calmly. "The air defense cover here is pretty good, you can take my word for it. And the cosmodrome's head of security has just given all the necessary instructions. Are you trying to tell me they'll launch a massive ballistic missile strike?"

"Yes."

"You're bluffing," Kostya replied coolly. "A strike by the Chinese or the Americans is out of the question. That would start a world war. Our rockets aren't targeted on Baikonur. They won't let planes with tactical warheads get close. You've no way out. Lie back, relax, and enjoy."

Maybe he was right.

Or maybe the Great Ones did have a plan to incinerate Baikonur with a nuclear strike and not start a world war.

That wasn't important.

The important thing was that Kostya had made up his own mind that he wouldn't be stopped. That now they would take him out and put him in the rocket… and what then?

What would he be able to do, sitting in a metal barrel, when the portals of a dozen Higher Magicians opened on the launch pad? When they instantly purged the brains of the head of security and those who had to press the "start" button and they zapped him with a portable missile with a nuclear warhead or activated some secret satellite with an X-ray laser?

He wouldn't be able to do a thing.

A space ship isn't an automobile-you can't just steal it and drive it away. A space launch is a coordinated effort by a thousand people, and at every stage all it needs is for one little button to be pressed to make sure that the ship never reaches orbit.

And even if Kostya were a stupid fool, he was still a Higher One now-he ought to read the reality lines and foresee what would happen and realize that he'd be stopped.

That meant…

That meant all of it-the cosmodrome, the rocket, the people whose minds he'd taken over or put to sleep-all of it was a bluff. Saratov airport all over again.

He didn't need any rocket. Just as he hadn't needed any plane.

He was going to open a portal straight into space.

Then why had he come dashing to Baikonur? For the space-suit? Nonsense. Zvyozdny would have been much nearer, and somehow or other he could have found a functional spacesuit the right size there.

So it wasn't just for the spacesuit…

"I need to read the incantations," Kostya said. "To smear the blood on the page. You can't do that in a vacuum."

He got up and pushed the technicians aside. They obediently stood to attention.

"I'll have to open a portal to the station. And for that I need to know its precise position. And even so, mistakes are possible… maybe even inevitable."

I couldn't sense him reading my thoughts, but he was.

"You got everything right, Anton. I'm ready to depart for the station any second. Before all of you can do anything about it. And even if Gesar and Zabulon turn themselves inside out, you won't have enough Power. I'm as powerful as it's possible to be-do you understand? I have achieved absolute Power! There is nowhere higher to go! Gesar dreamed that your daughter would be the first enchantress to do that…" Kostya laughed. "But look-I'm the first!"

"Enchantress?" I asked, allowing myself a smile.

"Absolute magician," Kostya snapped. "And that's why you can't beat me. You can't gather enough Power-do you understand? I am absolute!"