The Heartless (The Sublime Electricity Book #2)

by Pavel Kornev

  "Yes," Brandt nodded. He turned around and his glowing eyes pierced through the gloom of the room like two colorless flames. "You lied to me, Leo! I thought you were my friend, and you lied to me!"

  "About what?" I clarified.

  "Please don't play games, now least of all!" snapped the poet. "I know everything!"

  "Well shit," I thought to myself, wanting to curse out loud when I realized what precisely could have caused this attack of rage, but it all turned out much worse.

  "She said we cannot be together! She said she gave you her word and that she was your property until the end of days! That's dishonorable, Leo!"

  "Wait!" I tried to cut into the poet's monologue. "You've got it all wrong!"

  But Albert wasn't listening to me.

  "You took advantage of my lack of experience and trampled over the girl's innocence, destroying her dreams! She was counting on my help, but you won't let her have it!"

  "What is this nonsense?!" I shouted out and suddenly realized it really was just that – nonsense.

  The poet was out of his mind.

  "There's only one way for us to settle this issue now," Albert Brandt continued in the meantime. He picked his dueling sabers up from the table, set one on the floor and sent the other to me with a sharp kick. "En garde!"

  "Stop!" I screamed. "Albert, stop! It's me! How many years have we known one another? Just hear me out for a start!"

  The poet shook his head and suddenly said with a strong tone, straight from the chest:

  "Take the saber and fight me, devil take you!"

  His talent overwhelmed me, and tried control my actions, forcing me to take a step forward and drop my cane. But I didn't bend down for the weapon.

  "No!"

  "Take it!" Albert demanded again, raising his blade to the very ceiling. "Now!"

  He was definitely out of his mind. I, meanwhile, couldn't shoot him, nor run and leave him in such a state. I could only raise the saber and defend, but I didn't, despite all his talented admonishments.

  "You're under a spell, Albert!" I shouted to the poet. "Wake up!"

  "I'm under a spell?" he laughed. "I met the love of my whole entire life, and you stole her from me! But we will be together no matter what!"

  Albert Brandt had always had the tendency for recklessness, and had fallen in love to the point of memory loss many times before; the succubus easily played on his feelings. The poet was burning with desire to cut his opponent to bits and was planning to do just that.

  Either he would kill me and find favor with the hangman, or I would shoot him and lose my only friend forever. Elizabeth-Maria had set the ideal trap.

  "En garde!" the poet again ordered, and the force of his talent made me reach for the weapon. But an empty bottle rolled out from under the couch at that very moment; it rolled into Albert's boot and forced him to lower his illustrious eyes to floor for just a moment.

  I didn't hesitate; I grabbed the billiard ball I'd forgotten there long ago and threw it at the poet with my left hand with all my might. It hit him right in the forehead; Albert's head took the blow; his legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor.

  Nothing to worry about! The nimbler the mind, the stronger the skull, as they say. And in that regard, poets were probably more a confirmation of the rule than an exception to it.

  And it was proven right – I managed to feel a pulse on Albert's neck without particular effort.

  He was alive.

  At that moment, the leprechaun came out from under the sofa. He shook the dust from his rumpled accordion top-hat and snorted:

  "Bugger, he's a right messy chap!"

  "What are you doing here? Did you leave something?" I asked, but immediately waved my hand. "Doesn't matter. I'd actually rather you didn't answer."

  And the leprechaun didn’t answer; instead, he started rummaging in the liquor cabinet for a bottle of rum.

  I, meanwhile, picked up my cane, ran down to the first floor and, with a careless salute farewell to the barkeep, went outside. But I didn't head home. I went to bring Alexander Dyak up to speed. I suddenly had an urgent job for him.

  WHEN I CAME into the back yard of Mechanisms and Rarities, the inventor was already finishing the solder on the radiator and showed me his handiwork with well-earned pride.

  "Tell me what you think, Leopold Borisovich!" he said, but I just threw up my hands.

  "I don't really understand engines," I admitted with a clean conscious.

  Dyak put the steel hood back in place, slapped it with his hand and smiled:

  "And you don't have to. I guarantee that it's fixed."

  After a successful completion to his experiment, the inventor found himself in an elevated state of spirit and reeked thickly with the noble aroma of brandy. But he had approached the radiator repair job with all due seriousness and, beyond the blowtorch, had dug out a bunch of other tools. I didn't doubt his words.

  "Would you come in for a glass of tea, Leopold Borisovich?" Alexander offered, wiping his mechanical-grease-covered hands with a piece of rag.

  "If it's only tea," I agreed, not knowing the best way to approach the store owner with my request.

  We hid in his workshop from the rain; Alexander left me alone briefly, then came back with a tea pot, tea cups and a plate of short-bread cookies. He was still drinking brandy.

  "For medical purposes," he winked at me. "Helps reduce stress!"

  I was planning to reduce my stress with a much more radical method, by parting once and for all with its main cause but, before I managed to start my request, the inventor coughed, stroked his gray beard and said carefully:

  "Leopold Borisovich, I actually have one request of you..."

  "I'm listening, Alexander."

  After a moment of hesitation, he laid out bluntly:

  "One successful experiment isn't really proof of anything. The scientific method demands that a series of experiments be performed and their results compared, but I simply have no one to perform them on. Do you think maybe you could help me with that?"

  I stared at him in confusion.

  "What, excuse me?"

  "I understand how barbaric it sounds," the inventor sighed, "but it is extremely important for me to get access to several infernal creatures and subject them to the effects of regulated electromagnetic disturbances."

  "The idea is not without merit," I admitted after brief consideration of the extremely unusual proposal. "But actually doing that would have certain complications."

  "I understand!" Alexander Dyak admitted. "I understand! But judge for yourself what kind of perspectives this reveals!"

  "This reveals the perspective of us being eaten alive or being thrown in a work camp, depending on our luck," I retorted with a shake of my head. "Bringing an infernal creature to your shop would not only be extremely difficult to accomplish, but also just plain dangerous."

  "Well, what else can I do?" the inventor said, at a loss.

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  "I don't know." So, I asked: "Just how cumbersome is your device? Would it fit in the back of the armored car?"

  "Are you suggesting we conduct field experiments?" the shop owner gasped. "That could be one way around this but, if the broadcasts we make are detected, they'll try to track us down."

  "Hold up!" I cut the inventor off, not wanting to brush this idea aside out of hand. "You said the first device was called a lightning detector, right? It could detect electric discharges in the atmosphere, right? Doesn't that mean there should be an extremely high amount of interference in weather like this?"

  Alexander Dyak shot up from his chair and started pacing from corner to corner.

  "You're right, I didn't consider that!" he decided a bit later. "But the storm won't last long. Do you think we can do a second experiment with the transmitter before the end of the day?"

  I nodded.

  "Most assuredly."

  "Great!" the shop owner replied joyfully. "Absolutely marvelous!"


  "So, will the device fit in the back of the armored vehicle?"

  "Without a doubt," Dyak confirmed. "If I replace the dynamo with a powerful electric battery, we could even conceal it in a traveling suitcase." the inventor said with a shudder. "Leopold Borisovich, do you have time for this right now?"

  "How much time will it take?"

  "A quarter hour at most!"

  "Alright," I decided. "Get to work."

  The inventor took the little box of tools and called me after him:

  "I'm gonna need your help!"

  I set the traveling bag on the workbench and followed the shop owner into the basement. Alexander Dyak deftly detached the dynamo wire from the transmitter. The device wasn't so big on its own, but lifting it was quite a serious task. In order to protect the fragile equipment from breaking, we first had to place the transmitter into a traveling suitcase to drag it up the stairs.

  But we managed. And when the inventor was done screwing in the massive electric battery, I loaded the apparatus into the back of the truck myself.

  "Where are we going?" Alexander Dyak asked, running out after me under the pouring rain and pulling on his raincoat.

  "We’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here"

  "Please, Leopold Borisovich!" the inventor objected. "How do you mean?"

  "I assure you, I'll tell you everything," I promised. "But it would be too dangerous for you to come with me."

  "You're hiding something from me!"

  I sighed fatefully.

  "Has Albert ever told you about my home?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

  "He said something about a curse, but that's unscientific..."

  "And yet, nevertheless, something is contaminating the manor and the property attached to it. It cannot harm me, but you must never go there. I'll start up the transmitter in my own yard, and tell you about what happens."

  "Ah, so that's it!" the inventor said, drawing out his words. "I see, I see! Well, I won't try to talk you out of it. It will serve as a good initial test of how well the apparatus works. But I beg you not to draw it out: I need a test of the effect of electromagnetic disturbances directly on infernal creatures."

  I clapped him on the shoulder and warned:

  "Don't you worry, Alexander. This won't leave you wanting."

  "You oblige me greatly, Leopold Borisovich."

  The shop owner went to open the gates; I sat at the wheel, threw my traveling bag on the passenger seat and started up the powder engine. In idle, the engine worked like a Swiss timepiece; neither the visit to the vampire, nor the subsequent repair had done any permanent damage. I waved goodbye to Alexander and started off on my way.

  The rain was coming down as if being poured from a barrel. Behind the sheet of water falling from the sky, I occasionally saw branching lightning strikes flicker by. But there were certain advantages in the bad weather – there were no passenger carriages or carts on the streets, so driving to Calvary took a quarter hour at most. It only took a bit more time than getting up the hill, though, as it had been quite washed out over the last few days. The wheels were skidding in the mud. The massive armored vehicle was snarling angrily, and just barely crawling forward.

  But I made it.

  I left the self-propelled carriage on the little platform before the gates, threw open the latch, walked past the fence and opened the rusty, creaking gate for the car. I parked it on my property and ran to close the gates before some random passerby glanced into the disfigured garden and saw all the corpses, which I still had yet to get rid of.

  The armored car stopped at the porch and I dragged the hefty suitcase into the house. I unlatched it right in the entryway and gave some power to both it and the code cylinder, but I didn't broadcast the Morse code prayer just yet. All I did was shout out:

  "I'm back!"

  In reply – silence.

  Reminded of recent events, I immediately pulled the Cerberus from my pocket, switched the safety off and listened. Nothing, just the sound of rain outside.

  What the hell had happened now?

  I stepped back to the entrance and looked into the yard. There were huge raindrops smacking the lawn and dead flower beds, and streams gushing from the gutters, soaking the neatly stacked mummies. Quiet and calm. However, there had been nothing outside to warn me of yesterday’s events, either...

  I decided to take precautions, ran up to the armored car, threw open the doors from the passenger side and nearly cursed in surprise when I found the leprechaun. The pipsqueak, his top-hat sitting rakishly back on his head, was distractedly turning the wheel and snorting recklessly, imitating the crackling of a working engine. He didn't even look at me.

  And I didn't touch him. I just pulled my Mauser from the traveling bag, chambered a round and went back inside with my weapon at the ready. I was starting to like this less and less. But when I noticed the icehouse hatch thrown back, it felt like my legs were suddenly glued to the floor. I got the urge to go back for grenades.

  But instead, as if under a spell, I slowly and carefully walked up to the black maw of the basement, got down on my knees and glanced into the ominous darkness...

  But actually – it was quite bright down there. The light of two kerosene lamps was quivering in the ice chunks stuck to the walls and floor and, in the uneven glow, I immediately saw two figures rummaging about in the far corner. Based on the holes dug all around the floor, they'd already checked all the other parts.

  I was so surprised that I even forgot my age-old fear of basements for a moment.

  "What are you doing?" I shouted, running down the stairs. "Theodor!"

  My butler turned and answered with dignity:

  "We're trying to find the leprechaun's treasure, Viscount."

  "Oh yeah?" I asked, taken aback, but immediately waved my hand. "Excellent, carry on. But then you, Elizabeth-Maria, we need to have a serious conversation. Let's go!"

  The succubus, beyond all doubt, had noticed the hints of rage peeking through in my voice. Also, I'd never called her by name before, but she didn't even raise an eyebrow.

  "I'm helping Theodor, if you didn't notice, Leo!" she announced.

  "Up, now!" I snapped, no longer pretending that everything was alright.

  "Is something the matter, dear?" the girl smiled charmingly. "Did you not find the inspector general's daughter?"

  "I did."

  "So, you see! And that is only thanks to my help! Why are you so upset? Did you not have the brass to confess your true feelings, or did she reject you?"

  "Listen!"

  "Oh, how sad!" Elizabeth-Maria broke me off, placing a hand to my mouth. "Unrequited love just breaks my heart!"

  I wasn't preparing to have an argument in the basement, but before I even knew it, I was standing right in front of the girl.

  "Listen, you!" I yelled in her face. "You thought you could poison my relationship with Albert? Well, no such luck! We didn't duel!"

  Elizabeth-Maria's nose shot up.

  "Really? It's a shame to hear that," she said, extremely ambiguously, "but I didn't do anything blameworthy. I just parted ways with Albert and explained why we cannot be together."

  "He misunderstood the whole situation!"

  "People tend to do that," the succubus burned me. "You, I hope, managed to dispel his error?"

  The girl's poison-dripping voice made me want to stand up and start the transmitter right then, but I wasn't sure the electromagnetic waves would fully penetrate the basement, and I had to get myself together.

  "You should not have done that!"

  Elizabeth-Maria folded her hands demonstratively and turned away from me to my butler as he dug in the ice chunks.

  "I didn't break any of your rules or our agreements, my sweet Leo," she told me. "If your friend is too amorous or hot-tempered, that's not my fault. You pick your own friends. I suggest you be a bit more prudent in the future."

  I didn't give in to the provocation, or jump into a fight. But before I manage
d to find a dignified response, the girl suddenly said to my butler:

  "Hey! There it is!"

  "Where?" Theodor shuddered, turning his head in confusion from side to side.

  "There, it's sticking out!" Elizabeth-Maria pointed at a silver fork handle protruding from the ice.

  Having instantly forgotten about me, they started raking away the ice and had soon dug up the tip of a man's shoe.

  "Original choice for a hoard," the girl snorted and made a totally natural squeal.

  The shoe was on a foot; the fork was pinning a frozen pant leg to the ankle and stuck into the icy flesh all the way to the end of the tines.

  My vision grew hazy. I suddenly felt the cold in full measure. The lamp flames became dull and diffuse, and the light spot of the hatch was covered by someone's shadow.

  "Bugger!" I heard distinctly from the other side.

  "The pipsqueak himself even dropped by!" Elizabeth-Maria said, lighting up in joy.

  The leprechaun cursed out dirtily and hid from view. The girl laughed sonorously. Theodor continued disinterring the corpse. And meanwhile, a ghastly sensation rolled over me of inevitable misfortune.

  Shaking from nervous chill, I walked up to the butler, intending to order him to leave the basement, but my tongue felt stuck pointing up.

  To Elizabeth-Maria, this was all child's play.

  "You weren't the first one to think of storing corpses here!" she laughed uncontrollably.

  It should be said that even the succubus was affected when my butler had dug up the torso. The stomach of the unknown man was torn open and had silverware sticking out of it in an orderless fashion: forks, spoons, and knives – all silver.

  "Unbelievable," she shivered.

  Theodor, meanwhile, didn't stop; he dug out the left hand, its wrist pierced through with a silver fork, started throwing the ice chunks away, and soon revealed another ghastly wound – the neck of the unfortunate man had been sliced open from ear to ear in a steady, deep cut that reached all the way to the white bones of the spinal column.

  "Leo, how am I to understand this?" Elizabeth-Maria cried out in alarm, but I didn't stir, intently observing as the corpse's white face emerged from the ice.

  "I know this man," I whispered when a half-forgotten memory dislodged itself from the depths of my conscious. "He was our chef!"