“They’re not bad,” he said. “And to think we’ve been taking morphia the old-fashioned way when we could have been dipping sausages into it.”
Largo knew it wasn’t that funny, but when Remy giggled drunkenly so did he. “You’ve drugged me and the drinks aren’t even here yet.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “If you start to drift off I still have some of the cocaine you found in the theater.”
Largo thought of his first delivery to Empyrean and the flat where a party had been going on for weeks. He looked at the rose petal, then around the theater. “Do these people live this way all the time?”
“Some,” said Remy. “The lucky ones with money and nothing else to do. Why? Are you jealous?”
He thought about it and surprised himself by saying, “I suppose I am, a little. It’s like another planet in here.”
Remy reached out and took his hand. She said, “Not so different. Just more fun.”
A bright light flashed behind them. Largo saw one of the silver-spangled hostesses taking photochromes at a table nearby. Remy squeezed his hand. “Let’s get a chrome,” she said excitedly. Remy waved and the woman came to their table. Remy scooted her chair close to Largo’s. He opened his mouth and she pretended to feed him another rose petal. He’d never taken a chrome before and he jumped a little as the brightness of the flash caught him off guard.
He blinked at Remy. “I think I’m blind. Leave me here and save yourself.”
She giggled and kissed his ear.
“I thought I recognized you two,” said someone nearby. It was a man’s voice, but when Largo looked up all he could see was the bright afterglow of the flash and a man-shaped shadow.
“Uncle Rudy!” shouted Remy. She jumped up and hugged the silhouette.
Largo stood too. Between the light in his eyes and the chloral hydrate in his blood, he felt a little unsteady, but he managed to stay reasonably upright. Remy took Largo’s hand. “Uncle Rudy, I believe you two lovely gentlemen have met.”
Baron Hellswarth put out his hand and he and Largo shook. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Baron,” said Largo.
“You too. But you haven’t come by the factory in a while. Have you forgotten about us?”
“No, sir. I wanted to come back, but there haven’t been any new deliveries to Schöne Maschinen.”
The Baron waved that away. “There’s no need to wait for that nonsense. Come see me on Friday and we’ll talk more about your future.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Remy looked around. “Uncle Rudy, I don’t see anyone with you. Tell me you didn’t come all on your own. It would be too tragic.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “There’s a friend waiting for me in one of the boxes.”
“If you’re hiding her behind curtains, she must be very pretty,” said Remy.
“Not compared to you, my dear,” he said. “But I should be getting back. I just wanted to say hello.”
The Baron kissed Remy on the cheek and wagged a finger at Largo. “Friday,” he said.
“I’ll be there.”
Largo’s eyes had cleared enough to see the Baron going back up the aisle. He dropped into his chair. A moment later the drinks arrived and Remy prepared the absinthe with the sekt. She handed him a glass and held up hers. “To the future,” she said.
“To Friday,” said Largo. They clinked glasses and he took a sip of his drink. The cocktail tasted somewhat peculiar as it mixed with the chloral hydrate, but nothing was going to spoil this moment. This was it, he thought. The pivot point he’d been waiting for. After all his doubts, the Baron remembered him and now he had an appointment that would change everything. He looked at Remy. “We might as well go home. There’s no way this night could get any better.”
“You only say that because you haven’t seen Anita Mourlet yet,” Remy said. She dipped a rose petal into her drink and put it in his mouth.
A moment later, the house lights dimmed and the stage lit up.
Remy squeezed his hand. “Promise that you’ll forgive me if I leave you for her.”
“You’ll have to try harder than that to get rid of me.”
“Fine. You can be our houseboy. You’ll wear a gold collar and I’ll lead you around on a small chain and teach you tricks.”
“Only if we switch days,” Largo said. “Then you’ll wear the collar and I’ll lead you around.”
“What a lovely household we’ll be,” said Remy. “Even the Baron will be jealous.” She settled down against him, resting her hand high on his leg.
When the theater was pitch-dark, a spotlight hit the center of the stage and Anita Mourlet walked out to thunderous applause. She had fine, perfectly sculpted features, with bright red lips and piercing green eyes. She was pretty, Largo thought, but nothing special. Not nearly as pretty as Remy. Still, there was something about her. He didn’t want to look away, which was strange because her clothing was the opposite of what he’d expected.
Anita wore a pince-nez and a conservative man’s suit. There were gasps and some nervous laughter from the audience. To Largo, she looked like any banker or salesman he’d ever seen. Remy squeezed his leg. “Isn’t she marvelous?” she said.
“I don’t get it. A pretty girl in a suit. What’s so special?” said Largo.
Remy looked up at him. “You don’t see it? She’s dressed like the Minister of War.”
“Of course,” he said, not really seeing it at all.
The stage lights shifted, revealing a backdrop depicting an abstract version of the interior of the Golden Angel, all odd, angular shadows. Low lights played on the backdrop from behind, creating patterns like ghosts moving around the theater. As Anita began singing the first few bars of “I Sin for Pleasure,” the ghosts swayed and moved together. Soon they fell to the stage and began making love en masse. Anita danced and slithered through the writhing ghost forms as the song built in speed and volume.
Remy leaned forward on the table to get a better view. Largo liked Anita’s voice and, yes, she was surrounded by ghosts making love, but she wasn’t doing anything that he thought could get someone labeled as the Madonna of Depravity.
Onstage, Anita danced over to a box seat on the backdrop. The shadow of a large snake appeared there and as it crawled onto her arm, Largo realized that the snake was real. Anita draped the snake around her shoulders like Remy’s fur wrap. At that moment, the song hit a crescendo and the theater lights went out for a second. When they came back up, instead of the stage ghosts, real men and women moved together, their bodies glistening with sex sweat. Even the smell of the theater seemed to change, and Largo was conscious of Remy’s hand massaging his thigh.
Anita, in her Minister’s suit, moved through the lovers, singing and caressing them as she went. Finally, she moved to the center of the stage and knelt down. The lovers swarmed over her, tearing at her clothes, until she was buried under a mass of nude squirming bodies. The music stopped for a moment, then exploded back, louder than ever. Anita arose from the bodies in nothing but the War Minister’s pince-nez, the snake, and high heels, with a rubber cock strapped over her crotch. She was no longer singing, but the music went on, as raucous as ever.
Remy grabbed Largo’s arm and said, “The Chancellor would shoot us all if he knew about this.”
Largo held one of the masks over his face. “How do you know he’s not here?”
Remy laughed and turned back to Anita, who wandered among the bodies, miming sex with one or two, then moving on. One of the male dancers down front wore a miter on his head. Anita held him and moved her hips as if she were fucking him from behind. The audience screamed with delight.
“The Archbishop would not be pleased,” said Largo.
“How do you know?” Remy said, smiling.
Anita wrapped the snake around the Archbishop’s neck, feigned an orgasm, and fell on top of him. When she grabbed the snake back and threw it into the air, it burst into flames. The audience screamed again, but
more in shock than glee. The music stopped and the theater again went dark.
Largo kissed Remy’s neck and the blackness seemed to go on for a long time. Then, a woman’s voice rose from the dark, singing “Only the Damned Are Merry.” She sang quietly at first, but as the volume increased, a spotlight came on. Anita Mourlet was at the back of the theater in an emerald corset and skirt. The theater exploded into applause.
She was bare-breasted and as she moved back to the stage, she kissed people and stole bits of their clothing—a scarf, a cigarette holder, a top hat. Audience members began to hold out their possessions for her. She ignored most, but plucked a few as she walked, always kissing the victim of her theft.
Remy gripped Largo’s arm. “Make her come this way!” she said.
“How?” said Largo. “I don’t have anything for her to steal.”
As Anita neared the stage, she stopped to embrace a beautiful young man dressed as she was on the postcard. To Largo’s surprise, Remy ran to the center aisle and got behind her. When Anita turned, she stopped. Remy took off her crystal necklace and put it around the other woman’s neck. Anita bent Remy back and kissed her passionately before stepping onto the stage.
Remy ran to Largo and kissed him hard. “There,” she said. “Now it’s like we’ve both kissed her.”
At that, the song ended. Anita bowed and left the stage to a standing ovation. When she was gone, the house lights came up for intermission.
Remy fell against the back of her chair, looking exhausted. Largo used a napkin to wipe lipstick from her cheek and she wiped some from his lips.
“What did you think?” she said.
“Honestly, I wasn’t sure at first,” Largo said. “But I think she’s extraordinary.”
“She is, isn’t she?” Remy said. Then her face turned serious. “The way she takes our most basic instincts and turns them into art. Beautiful. Scandalous. Dangerous.” Largo couldn’t remember hearing Remy use the word dangerous about art before. She looked at him. “Tell me the truth, Largo. Do you think I’m any good as a performer?”
That caught him off guard—not because he doubted her, but because he was shocked that she doubted herself. “I think you’re wonderful. There’s no one at the Grand Dark who can do half of what you do.”
“You’re not just saying that, are you?”
“Not at all. You’re the best they have.”
Remy looked back at the stage. “But what am I compared to Anita Mourlet? I hide behind puppets in other people’s plays. Anita holds nothing back. Risks everything for her art.” She looked at Largo. “I want to be more like her. Hypnotic. Dangerous. Evil. But I don’t know if I have it in me . . .”
“Of course you do. You’re amazing,” said Largo.
“I want to be. I try to be, but sometimes I wonder. Do I work hard enough? There are a million things more to learn about performance and I want to know them all,” Remy said.
“How did Anita learn?”
Remy picked petals off the rose. “She started the way I did. But then she broke away. That’s what I want to do. Break away. But not yet. There’s still so much to learn at the Grand Dark. Someday, though, I want to have my own theater. Combine people and puppets together onstage. I want to write plays that don’t all come from the yellowsheets.”
Largo kissed her hand. “You want to be Una.”
She looked at him. “In some ways. But I have to work harder. Study more. Like Anita did.”
“You can do anything you set your mind to.”
Remy started to put a petal in her mouth but dropped it on the table. “Do you really think so?”
“Absolutely,” said Largo.
She pulled Largo closer. “I love you. Don’t ever go.”
“Never,” he said, and touched Remy’s bare throat. “I hope you didn’t pay full price for that necklace. It looked expensive.”
“It was, from what I understand,” said Remy. “But it was worth it.”
“As long as you’re happy.”
“I am. I truly am.”
They drank and batted at balloons when they came their way. Remy hummed “I Sin for Pleasure” and looked happier than Largo had seen her since the night she’d become sick at the party.
The house lights went down again and Anita returned to the stage in a loose flowing robe. When the applause started, she held up her hands for quiet.
She said, “Thank you all for coming to our little den of iniquity. We have so much more wickedness to share with you tonight. But first, I wanted to introduce a friend. Though she’s more than a friend—she’s a spiritual advisor. A few of you lucky enough might already know her name: Vera Baal. She is the greatest medium it’s ever been my privilege to know. Tonight, she’s agreed not only to look into the future for a few lucky members of the audience, but to speak to a deceased loved one for one special person. Please welcome to the stage Vera Baal.”
There was polite applause throughout the theater. A plump middle-aged woman came out. She reminded Largo of Frau Balden, an older woman in Haxan Green who had told the children stories and taught them to pick pockets. Baal made a small bow and went to a tall chair that had been set in the middle of the stage.
Anita said, “Obviously, Vera can’t read all of your futures, but those lucky few I stole from are welcome to come up and speak with her.”
Remy looked at Largo, “Should I go?”
“Anita has your necklace. I say she owes you a fortune and more.”
“You’re right,” she said, and went to the end of a small line that had already formed on the steps leading up to the stage.
Largo thought of Rainer and wished there were a way that he could be at the show too. The next time Largo saw him he’d have to ask if his friend had heard of Vera Baal.
He listened carefully. Vera had an accent that sounded as if she’d come from the eastern provinces and grown up speaking another language. But that was all that was interesting about her. Largo grew disappointed as she began reading people’s futures. Vera checked their palms and their eyes, which made her look serious, but what came out of her mouth was the same tired drivel he’d heard from so-called fortune-tellers his whole life. “You’ll have a happy marriage and many children”; “You’ll come into money soon”; or “You will be going on a long voyage.” Largo stopped listening after Vera’s third boring pronouncement.
It wasn’t until Remy reached her that he paid attention again.
Remy took off her gloves and gave Vera her hand. The medium looked at it, then at Remy’s other hand. She studied Remy’s eyes for a few seconds. Finally, Vera smiled sadly and said, “I have nothing for you, child. But you are a rare creature and you must look for happiness in that.” Remy came back to the table looking puzzled.
She stared at her palms. “What do you think she meant by that?”
“I have no idea,” said Largo. “Maybe we should stay after the show and see if we can talk to her.”
Remy said, “All right,” but Largo could tell that she’d barely heard a word he’d said. She examined her hands and Largo’s, trying to find some answers. Finally, she put on her gloves and sat back with her arms folded.
“The old thing is probably a fraud,” said Largo. “Just because Anita believes in her doesn’t mean she isn’t a fake.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Remy said. She took Largo’s hand. “In any case, let’s not let it spoil the rest of the show.”
Vera soon reached the end of the line. There was more polite applause as the last person went back to their seat. Anita took center stage again. She said, “Now we’re in for something truly exciting. Vera will explain.”
The audience murmured and rustled in their seats. Even Largo was interested.
How is the old bat going to pull this off? Force everyone to swallow rose petals and absinthe? More funny business with the theater lights?
Largo could see that Remy was interested, even though she was still smarting from Vera’s strange dismissal. He decided
to stay quiet, keep his doubts to himself, and let her enjoy the show. Conjure a few good spooks and you might redeem yourself after all, Frau Swindler, Largo thought.
Vera stood and spoke in a surprisingly powerful voice. Like with Anita, there was something strangely compelling about her now. She said, “Good evening, lovely people. Thank you for allowing me to steal a moment of your time on this fine night. As Anita has said, tonight I will attempt to communicate with the spirit of one of your deceased loved ones. Now, with a group this large, I cannot guarantee that I will succeed. I am also not sure whose spirit I will be able to find, so it would be helpful if all of you concentrated on who in the spirit realm you would most like to speak to. If I am successful, make yourself known and with luck, you will be able to ask the spirit a question or two. Thank you.”
Vera sat down to the sounds of whispers and a few chuckles. After hearing her speak, Largo wasn’t sure if she was a simple fraud or if she actually believed in her own nonsense. Whatever happened, he was here for Remy, who still had a confused, disappointed look on her face. He reached for her shoulder and she put her hand over his.
Anita left the stage and the spotlight narrowed onto Vera. She closed her eyes and mumbled quietly to herself. Largo leaned forward to hear better, but still could hear only a few words and phrases. He caught “Spirits of the dead, speak to me” and “Make yourselves heard.” After that, Vera’s voice became so quiet that all he could pick up was a steady whisper. A few more moments of this and the audience started to become restless. People even began to laugh. Largo, who couldn’t help frowning, was glad that Remy couldn’t see him in the dark.
With a sudden shudder, Vera threw her head back against the chair hard enough that Largo could hear the crack. A moment later, her mouth fell open and something came out of it. It was a bit like a white ribbon, but roughly and unevenly cut. The ribbon drifted from between her lips and floated into the air. It seemed endless, drifting over her head until it touched the curtains over the stage. There was a collective intake of breath at the manifestation and even Largo was mesmerized, unable to explain the trick.
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