Translated by Andrew Bromfield

miramax books

This book includes excerpts from songs by

Vladimir Vysotsky, Yury Burkin, Kipelov, the bands

Aria, Voskresenie, and Nautilus Pompilius.

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The entrance did not inspire respect. The coded lock was broken, the floor was littered with the trampled butts of cheap cigarettes. Inside the elevator the walls were covered with graffiti, the word Spartak scrawled as often as the usual crude obscenities. The plastic buttons had been burned through with cigarettes and painstakingly plugged with chewing gum that was now rock-hard.

The door to the apartment on the fourth floor was a good match for the entrance: some kind of hideous old Soviet artificial leather, cheap aluminum numbers barely held on by their crooked screws.

Natasha hesitated for a moment before she pressed the doorbell. She must be insane, hoping for anything from a place like this. If you were so crazy and desperate that you'd decided to try magic, you could just open the newspaper, switch on the TV, or listen to the radio. Legitimate spiritualist salons, experienced mediums with international diplomas… It was all a swindle- that was clear enough. But at least you'd be in pleasant surroundings, with pleasant people-not like this last resort for hopeless losers.