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Waiting.
    All the other birds around were going wild. A swarm of sparrows sitting in a tree not far away started chirping crazily. The crows were a bit bolder. They settled on the next-door balcony and on the nearest trees and started cawing, every now and then launching off from the branches and circling near the window. Their instincts told them this surprising new neighbour meant trouble.
    But the owl didn't react at all. She couldn't give a damn about the sparrows, or the crows.
    'Just who are you?' I said as I threw open the window, ripping away the paper strips glued over the cracks. The boss really had lumbered me with this new partner . . .
    The owl flapped its wings once and flew into the room. It landed on the wardrobe and closed its eyes. As if it had always lived here. Maybe it had got cold on the way over. But then it was a snowy owl . . .
    I started to close the window, trying to think what to do next. How would I communicate with her, what would I feed her and how could this feathered creature possibly help me?
    'Is your name Olga?' I asked, when I'd finished with the window. There was a draught from the cracks now, but I could fix that later. 'Hey, bird!'
    The owl half opened one eye, taking no more notice of me than of the fussy, chattering sparrows.
    I was feeling more awkward with every moment. In the first place I had a partner I couldn't even talk to. And in the second place my partner was a woman.
    Even if she was an owl.
    Maybe I ought to put my trousers on. I wasn't really awake yet, standing there in just my crumpled shorts, I hadn't shaved . . .
    Feeling like a total idiot, I grabbed my clothes and hurried from the room. The phrase I muttered to the owl as I left added a finishing touch: 'Excuse me, I'll just be a moment.'
    If this bird really was what I thought it was, I couldn't have made the best impression.
    What I really wanted was to take a shower, but I couldn't afford to waste that much time. I made do with a shave and sticking my buzzing head under the cold tap. On the shelf, between the shampoo and the deodorant, I found some eau de cologne, which I don't normally use.
    'Olga?' I called as I stuck my head out into the corridor.
    I found the owl in the kitchen, on the fridge. Just sitting there looking dead, like a stuffed dummy stuck up there as a joke. Almost the way it had looked on the boss's shelves.
    'Are you alive? I asked.
    One amber-yellow eye peered at me.
    'All right,' I said, spreading my hands. 'Why don't we start from the beginning? I realise I haven't come across very well. And I'll be honest about it, I do that all the time.'
    The owl was listening.
    'I don't know who you are,' I said, straddling a stool and facing the fridge. 'And you can't tell me either. But I can introduce myself. My name's Anton. Five years ago I discovered that I was one of the Others.'
    The owl made a sound that was more like a muffled laugh than anything else.
    'Yes,' I agreed. 'Only five years ago. That was just the way things went. I had a very high level of resistance. I didn't want to see the Twilight world. So I didn't. Until the boss found me.'
    The owl seemed to be getting interested.
    'He was doing a practical exercise, briefing agents on how to identify secret Others. When he came across me . . .' I laughed as I remembered. 'He broke through my resistance, of course. After that it was very simple ... I did the adaptation course and started working in the analytical section . . . Nothing in my life really changed that much. I became one of the Others, but it was like I hadn't really noticed. The boss wasn't too pleased, but he didn't say anything. I was good at my job, and he had no right to interfere in anything else. But a week ago this vampire maniac turned up in town, and they gave me the job of neutralising him. Supposedly because all the agents were busy. But really to get me out there in the firing line. Maybe they were right. But during the week another three people were killed. A