The Fallen (The Sublime Electricity Book #3)

by Pavel Kornev

  When the lecturer finally left the stage, and musicians started getting on, I experienced a sense of earnest relief: the mineral water was long gone, and the nonstop chatter had dried out my throat. I got up first from the bench and extended a hand to Liliana.

  "Shall we dance?"

  "You're a very mysterious person, Leo," Lily said with an inexplicable expression, placing her hand in mine. "Simply too much." She got up to her feet and said: "Tell me about yourself. So, you aren't a criminal? Not a runaway from the work-camps, right?"

  "No," I admitted honestly.

  "Noble origin?"

  "Not as noble as you."

  "Who'd have thought!" Liliana shook her head. "Then why this look of a brutal cutthroat? Did you want to make an impression of masculinity on some pretty girl?"

  "It just came together that way." I once again didn't bend the truth, leading my companion to the dance floor. "So, you don't like my haircut?"

  We laughed and stood near the stage but then, overcoming the music with his whooping, a paperboy ran past the gates into the municipal garden:

  "Urgent News! Extra! Extra! Thuggees in Montecalida! Reporter strangled! Extra! Extra! Get yours here! Kali Stranglers in the city!"

  Lily gave an unmistakable shudder and took her wallet from her reticule at a feverish pace.

  "Just another puffed-up sensation," I told her, trying to talk her out of buying a paper.

  But it was to no avail. The extra edition of the Morning News was selling like hotcakes. The people who’d come to dance plowed through the yellowish pages and discussed the ghastly occurrence with pleasure. Not hearing my admonitions, Liliana acquired the special edition, glanced at the headline and, now white as a sheet, fell to the earth. I barely managed to grab her and set her on the nearest bench.

  After grabbing the paper, I started using it to fan her off, and Liliana quickly came back to her senses, but her face was still totally lacking blood. My heightened illustrious talent caught on an echo of aged fear, subtle and complex like the aroma of vintage wine.

  "This is my fault," Lily whispered out. "He was killed because of me..."

  "Balderdash!" I said, brushing the suggestion aside out of hand as I quickly skimmed the article.

  "Leo, you really don't get it! This is the very same photographer!"

  "And what of it? You aren't connected with him in any way."

  "Sure I am!" Lily started shivering very slightly. "He was killed because of me! It was the thugees! It was them!"

  I stared in surprise at Liliana, suspecting a joke, but my companion was surprisingly serious. And that didn't say anything good about her mental health: although revenge for the attempt to kill the incognito exotic dancer could be seen as a motive for killing the photographer, any attempt to link that with Kali Stranglers would be seen as confusing at best.

  What did sect fanatics want with clownish performances?

  "It was the thugees!" Liliana repeated, and I then couldn't hold back. I took the paper and read the last paragraph aloud:

  "The police have cast into extreme doubt the theory that a secret society of Kali Stranglers may have been involved. An eyewitness account stated that the rumal tied around the neck of the deceased, a ritual silk kerchief with a silver rupee tied to the end, had been given to the deceased long before the tragic incident. 'Anyone at all could have used it,' said the source, who wished to remain anonymous. What was more, this could have just been a simple suicide. In recent time, the deceased man's affairs hadn't been going particularly well."

  "You don't understand a thing," Liliana cut me off and buried her pale face in her hands.

  At that moment, Lily's hired driver pushed his way through the audience. He was keeping his right hand in his jacket pocket, and that somehow immediately changed my mind about my companion's mental state. Based on what I could see, Liliana's hysterics were justified.

  But then what secret was her family hiding?

  "Sir and madam, please allow me to take you home," the coachman offered.

  Liliana got up from the bench and smiled weakly.

  "Sorry, Leo. It was a wonderful day. Too bad it had to end this way..."

  I accompanied my companion to the carriage, but as soon as it started rolling away, cats started scratching inside me. And it wasn't for nothing: the train would take me to the city tomorrow morning, and I would never see this flighty girl ever again.

  I didn't even have a single clue of how mistaken I was on that account.

  Chapter Three, or a Bit of Death, a Bit of Love

  LONELINESS is bad. As the carriage drove away with Liliana inside, I recognized that with crystalline clarity. With Lily's departure, it was as if the world lost part of its material nature, instantly growing alien and frightening. To be more accurate, it was me that became alien to the twilight-engulfed city with its yellow gas-lamp lighting, dance melody wafting up from the park, thick shadows of gateways and the unrestrainable joy of the leisured public.

  The unconcerned revelers had the good sense to walk around me; I didn't wait for someone to call for a constable, just walked away. I walked into the first wine shop I could find and bought a couple bottles of port, then headed off to Albert Brandt's. I wasn't experiencing a desire to get drunk, but could I really go to the poet's empty-handed? He definitely wouldn't have managed to stock the bar yet.

  While I walked, I tried to sort through my own feelings and decide whether it was worth telling Albert. I could easily just wait out the train all night in the train station. Doing that meant I could avoid tying up a person I hadn't seen for more than a year, and had long stopped considering my friend.

  When I thought about it, I even froze half-step. After that, I nodded and hurried on.

  It was all simple: although I’d said otherwise, I still considered Albert a friend, and that was that. So I wanted to see him, in spite of Elizabeth-Maria.

  That damned loneliness. It was all loneliness.

  I soon turned from a boulevard down a side alley. There were no flickering electric lamps, cutting into my sight. The music through the loudspeakers was no longer loud enough to pester, either. Until that point, I’d felt a strong urge to climb up a lamp post, tear down a speaker and break it over the head of the first person I came across. In the dark alley, the incomprehensible, indiscriminate anger left me. I started feeling the desire to take a seat on a step of one of the short stoops, drink fortified wine right from the bottle and not think about anything.

  I was confused by that – I had never experienced a predilection to alcohol before, although I did like port. Port appealed to me with its complex bouquet and berry-like sweetness. Even memories of Inspector White didn't spoil my impression, although he was a big fan of the drink. Memories of the dead generally had little effect on me.

  The gates leading into the yard of the building where Albert Brandt was staying were locked. The guard who came out to my knock looked at me with unhidden disapproval, but couldn't refuse a guest. Wrapped tight in a dressing gown, the poet patted him on the shoulder absent-mindedly, slipped him a half-franc coin and threw open the door.

  "Come in, Leo."

  "And Elizabeth-Maria?"

  "She was tired from the journey. She's sleeping."

  We went up the creaky staircase to the third floor. There, Albert led me past a locked bedroom door onto a spacious balcony. In the dense twilight, I couldn’t see the lake, but I could hear a slight lapping of waves.

  I lowered down into one of the wicker armchairs. Albert went to get glasses and joined me.

  "Shall I make up some lemonade?" he offered.

  "No need, thanks." I took a glass, filled it with port and finished it in one small gulp. I felt as if a flower of sweetness had bloomed on my tongue.

  "And where's your girlfriend?"

  "She went home."

  "Left you?"

  "Not exactly," I shrugged my shoulders and told the poet, who was standing at the railing: "My train leaves at five in the morning."
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  "You're leaving?"

  "Yes, to New Babylon."

  "Will you be coming back?"

  "Not likely."

  Albert sat down in the armchair and finished his port.

  "Well, at least you dropped by to say goodbye." He waved his hand. "At any rate, it's no bother. The globe is getting smaller every day, you know. In fact, it’s shrinking like pebble leather. Steam trains, dirigibles, steam ships. And Tesla? I wouldn't be surprised if we can soon travel to a different part of the world by sticking two fingers into an electrical socket."

  "That'll more likely take you to a different world – the afterlife."

  "That is now. But everything flows, everything changes."

  "Everything changes, yes," I nodded after taking another small sip of fortified wine.

  "You know," Albert sighed, "I do love her, after all."

  I nodded.

  "I have no doubt. She's a beautiful woman."

  "And she needs me."

  "If you say so."

  "Forgive me," the poet suddenly asked, not clear what for.

  I turned to him, expecting a continuation.

  "It all turned out so stupid. I wanted to impart some decisiveness on you but, in the end, I was confused and it put you in a difficult position."

  I nodded. That was true. If Albert hadn't told the newspaperman back then about my feelings for the inspector general's daughter, I never would have allied with the succubus, and it all would have turned out completely different. But I'm not sure that was worth worrying about.

  "All's well that ends well," I reassured my friend.

  "No need to tell me that," the poet agreed with the maxim, pouring wine into our glasses.

  We spent a bit longer on the balcony, but when the second bottle was nearly finished, I looked at the time and stood to my feet. My head immediately started spinning, but the intoxication just strengthened my resolve to head straight for the train station.

  "It's time for me to go," I said, extending Albert my hand. "The train leaves at five."

  "Come off it!" the poet snorted. "You can stay in the guest room."

  "And the train?"

  "Shall I arrange for a cab at four? I'll ask the guard. He can set it up."

  I thought it over and agreed. Whether or not you're a werebeast makes no difference when it comes to hangovers. If I couldn't get a few hours of sleep, I'd be tormented the whole ride with a headache. And, for want of habit, I'd gotten a bit too drunk. I really should have just stuck to lemonade...

  Albert showed me to the guest room. I thanked him, removed my shoes and jacket, and laid down on the couch. I didn't take my clothes off. I simply didn't see a point. My head was spinning pleasantly. My eyes were slightly sticking together, and I soon didn't even notice that I'd slipped into a restless sleep. But before I drifted off, I got my Mauser from my pocket and stuck it under the pillow.

  You know, just in case.

  I woke up to a set of strong fingers clenching my neck. My breathing seized up. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest in terror, but my reflexes did not mislead me: in an automatized movement, my arm darted under the pillow, my fingers clenched... on nothing. There was no pistol there.

  "Calm yourself!" I heard a familiar voice, but ants were crawling down my spine.

  Elizabeth-Maria weakened her grasp, tousled my cheek and walked over to an open window. In the moonlight, I saw her refined feminine silhouette.

  "The pistol is on the table," the succubus said, and put her legs up on the sill. "I just didn't want you to wake up the whole neighborhood shooting your gun at me," she explained, not raising the housecoat slipping off her thighs.

  "What do you want?" I gasped out hoarsely. I didn't even look at the table, instead rooting around in my pants pocket for the handle of my folding knife. I didn't know if Elizabeth-Maria had retained her immunity to copper and lead after losing her supernatural abilities, but a titanium blade could go through anyone. Science is stronger than magic.

  "What do you think I want, Leo?" the succubus asked thoughtfully. The moon was lighting her from behind, obscuring her face. "If you think I want your death, you're mistaken."

  "Are you afraid of dropping dead after all you've been through?" I forwarded.

  "Nothing of the sort," the succubus laughed hoarsely. "To me, death would be nothing but a second birth. No, Leo. You burned all the senses and desires out of me. Burned them out together with my power. I might as well tear your head off right now. I could, but I don't want to. I want you to give me everything back. I want to become as I was before."

  "That is impossible!"

  "Nothing is impossible in this world!" Elizabeth-Maria answered abruptly.

  Despite her relaxed pose, it seemed as if she would throw herself at me at any second and try to strangle me.

  "But not in this case."

  "You burned out my essence. I don't even properly remember what it's like to hate someone with my whole heart, wish for their death and make it come true. I want that back. You cut me off from the underworld. Restore that connection. Just imagine it in your head! Do it!"

  "Hell no! I would never, even if I could!"

  "Do it and I'll swear to be your vassal. I'll obey you as the minor devils obey the princes of hell! In all matters and for all time!"

  I got up on an elbow.

  "Why? What's not to like here? Just enjoy your life!"

  "Enjoy?" Elizabeth-Maria hissed. "Leo, do you know what's the only thing stopping me from going mad? Pity. People take pity on me, Leo! Do you understand how demeaning that is? It's like a strict diet of oatmeal after a long life of nothing but raw meat! Pity is my water in the desert! It keeps me from dying but that is all! It runs through the fingers and flows out into the sand. It's... exhausting."

  "How metaphorical."

  "I've had it up to here with Albert. So, can you do it?"

  "No. Never."

  "As you once said yourself, Leo: 'Forever is a very long time.'"

  "Not in this case."

  Elizabeth-Maria slid off the window sill and laughed softly.

  "Sooner or later, you'll change your mind. I can wait. And remember: a promise from me is never just empty words. Give me back my power and I shall obey you without a second thought. Forever. I swear."

  I felt a nervous trembling, as if this simple offer was stretching out between us like the last link in a ghostly chain.

  "Leave," I demanded.

  Elizabeth-Maria wouldn't move from place and started undoing the belt of her housecoat.

  "Leo, do you remember the birth mark on my left breast?" she asked. "Why did you imagine it? It's so vulgar!"

  "Stop!" I demanded, taking a seat on the couch.

  "Could you remove it?"

  "I cannot! I cannot and I will not!"

  The succubus started laughing uncontrollably.

  "Do you have a knife in your pocket or are you just trying to blow off some steam?"

  "Get out of here!"

  "Be a good boy, Leo. Remove the birthmark, or you'll be very, very embarrassed. I can make that happen, I promise!"

  "What are you talking about?! Won't Albert notice that it’s gone?"

  Elizabeth-Maria stopped pretending she was preparing to fling open her housecoat, and said with slight pity in her voice:

  "Albert doesn't pay enough attention to me anymore. He doesn't notice anything."

  I closed my eyes, and an image of all the enticing curves of her body instantly appeared, but as soon as I stretched out to it, a wave of burning pain rolled over me. My temples started exploding. It became hard to breathe. It was as if a lump of ice had formed in my chest.

  "I cannot," I sighed loudly. "After all, I promised not to change your body, did you forget?"

  Then, unexpectedly, I reached the understanding of why my attempt to exorcise the succubus using Alexander Dyak's transmitter had failed. It was all in the promise. I gave my word, and that bound me to Elizabeth-Maria just as strongly as our previo
us agreement. I managed to destroy the otherworldly essence of my faux bride, but her image was left in my head. That was precisely what was keeping the succubus from falling back into the underworld.

  "Do it," Elizabeth-Maria demanded and added weightily: "I allow it!"

  My illustrious talent, emboldened by imagination, burst from place, and for a certain imperceptible moment, a complex image appeared in my head as if I was looking at the succubus from several angles at once. Taking the birth-mark from her chest was unexpectedly easy. Just one thought and it was gone.

  "Excellent!" Elizabeth-Maria purred. "You did it! And now, return my power."

  "Get out of here!"

  "Aren't you afraid of finding yourself in an awkward situation? A very, very awkward situation?" the succubus whispered to me and slowly moved from the window to the couch. The thrown-open housecoat was no longer covering her naked body. It was shining white in the gloom and intoxicating my mind with its availability. Just extend a hand, and...

  I didn't extend a hand, though. Instead, I winced in vexation.

  "The birth mark was a minor thing. What harm could there be from that, tell me? None, right?"

  Elizabeth-Maria froze half step.

  "It could have been malignant, don’t you think?" This time, I struck back.

  The succubus took a step back. The luster of my eyes reflected in her eyes, empty and dull.

  "Scum!" Elizabeth-Maria said with feeling. Then, overcoming herself, she walked up to me and tousled my cheek. "That's what you are, Leo. Scum! The hierarchs of hell would love to make an acquaintance as vile as yours."

  "Make yourself scarce!" I demanded.

  Elizabeth-Maria closed up her dressing gown, fastened the belt and confidently, as if having instantly recovered her sight, headed for the door.

  "My offer is still in force," she said before hiding in the hallway.