The Fallen (The Sublime Electricity Book #3)

by Pavel Kornev

  "Where'd you get all these riches?" I asked in surprise, imagining the value of the tickets to the event.

  "Ivan Prokhorovich is still prowling the mountains in search of the crashed dirigible, so I was left unaccompanied!"

  I wanted to refuse, but immediately recognized that otherwise, I simply would never get into the amphitheater and hesitated.

  "Come on, Lev Borisovich! It'll be fun!"

  "Alright!" I relented, getting onto the running board of the carriage. My gaze immediately caught on the wide cone of a strange weapon. Behind it was a sealed helmet with a glass visor.

  With a quiet thump, a stream of gas struck me in the face. I jumped back, but Krasin held me in place and made me inhale with a sharp jab under the ribs.

  And darkness came over me.

  Chapter Seven or Iron Cage and Too Much Power

  DELIRIUM is good. You can sleep and dream. Dreams full of madly bright colors, unbelievable sensations, flavors and smells. Emotions drag the soul in powerful directions. There's a lightness of being...

  Delirium is good in all ways except for the inevitable resolution when one has to leave one's comfortable hiding spot and head off in search of another dose of morphine.

  And in my case – just waking up...

  I opened my eyes to find I was naked on the cold stone floor of a basement. In a cell – or so it seemed it first, but the bars were surrounding me from all sides, and regular lockups don't look like that. The iron bars stretched from floor to ceiling. The only door was affixed with a sturdy lock.

  Or maybe not so sturdy – I didn't have the strength remaining to even blink, which was to say nothing of checking the strength of bolts. I was lying and looking at the ceiling. There were cherubim spinning above my head. I blew on them and the little angels dispersed into a cloud of glowing dust. One spent a long time fading out before burning up in the air, sparking with white spots on my retinas.

  That's why I don't take drugs. My talent, combined with my excessively lively imagination, could bring any nightmare brought on by opium smoke to life.

  "I wonder what kind of gas they poisoned me with?" That distant thought spun in my mind for some time, then I unexpectedly realized: it didn’t matter what they poisoned me with, it mattered what they poisoned me for. And the answer to that question promised to be anything but good.

  Curses! The chance rescue from the island wasn't by chance at all!

  The drug-induced haze chased off my self-directed rage, but as soon as I stood from the floor, my head started spinning.

  It's nothing. It will pass soon...

  And it really did, but not exactly in the way I was hoping. The door flew open and a tall, svelte gentleman of middling years walked into the basement. He had dark hair and an engaging smile.

  Adriano Tacini, the architect.

  "So, it's you!" involuntarily tore itself from me.

  "Calm yourself, Lev," Adriano asked me and sat down on a seat next to a device rattling quietly in the corner. "Or is it better to call you Leopold? By the way, don't try to get free. You'll only make things worse."

  My eyes were going gray in rage. Iron cages are nothing. No cage can hold a werebeast, especially if that beast seriously intends to rip off someone's head.

  The idea came into my head and, in a quick burst...

  My body was pierced with electric shock. I shook, and it started smelling of burned hair.

  "Ow..."

  "I warned you!" the architect reproached me and patted on the generator, humming measuredly. "Sublime electricity, my friend. Sublime electricity."

  "I'll rip your head off!" I promised, gasping in pain.

  "If you please, I'll explain," Adriano smiled lightly. "The bars are electrified. Every time you touch them, you complete an electric circuit, thus punishing yourself for lack of self-control."

  "Up yours!" I sighed and repeated my attempt to break free.

  I was again struck with electrical discharge, then my muscles started to contract, and the jump ended up in vain, but I pressed and pressed, no longer trying to bend the bars so much as to overcome the soulless machine, overload the generator and cause a short. All I ended up with was burns.

  "You really are a stubborn man," I heard through the ringing in my ears when I collapsed to the floor.

  Adriano Tacini got up from his seat, looked at the time and started pacing from wall to wall.

  "We were counting on your devil of a personality," the architect told me without the slightest hint of gloating. "This is not a generator," he said, pointing to the device in the corner. "It's a transformer. And the electricity comes directly from the municipal network. Even you cannot overpower the powerplant, so hold your horses. Or I'll be forced to take measures."

  "And what might those be?" I exhaled hoarsely, looking at my tormentor in hate.

  "I'll turn on the electrodes in the floor," Tacini answered calmly. "Yes-yes, those are no mere nails. I assure you, it will not be pleasant."

  "What's all this for?" I winced.

  "Ah, that's right," Adriano smiled, "it really is time to bring you up to speed."

  "You don't say?"

  "Oh, yes! I need you to have all your wits about you," the architect said with a serious look, again sitting on the chair and tossing one leg over the other. "I was advised to use you in the dark until the very end but, if I understand anything about people, that will not work. So, let’s play in the open."

  "Who told you that?"

  Adriano Tacini let that question go in one ear and out the other.

  "As you already know, my wife and I cannot conceive children," he told me.

  I bared my teeth:

  "Some people are better off not having children at all."

  The architect shuddered as he reached for the transformer, but overcame himself and warned:

  "Say something like that again and, I swear, you'll regret it. My wife is infertile, not me. That causes her a heavy burden."

  "Aw, that must be such a tragedy," I laughed, ignoring the warning, but Adriano ignored the jab.

  "I've spent a few years and half of my fortune," he said, turning his gaze to the wall, "to treat Belinda's infertility, but the luminaries of medicine couldn't do anything to help. And folk healers couldn't do a thing either. In the end, our only hope was a miracle, so I turned to religion."

  "Obscurant!" I called back.

  The architect winced in vexation, but that was all.

  "Failure awaited us there, as well. There aren't really so many miracles left in this world. Science has squeezed magic out of every nook and cranny. The only thing wizards can do now is maim. Eventually, I turned my attention to India, a country far from civilization, and not having fully exhausted its distinctive character. There, I was a guest of the Marquess Montague. But you already know this story, isn't that right?"

  I nodded.

  "The thugees had killed his daughter's fiancé. They didn't spare anyone and the Marquess arrested many Kali worshippers. I entreated George to allow me to interrogate them on the goddess. He promised to help me with it after the end of the investigation. He gave his word of honor and he broke it! This is all his fault!" Adriano Tacini jumped up off the chair, loosened his tie and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. "And do you know why? One of his servant ladies convinced his daughter that she was an avatar, the earthy embodiment of Kali herself. What a scandal! The Marquess got very scared and ordered them all hanged. I tried to protest, but he reported me. And look what it all turned into..."

  I looked angrily at the silent architect.

  "You must have a talent for story-telling! Everything is clear now!"

  "Don't rush things, Lev," Adriano winced. "The Marquess's report landed me on a list of unreliable elements. I even had to move to the New World. But there, my reputation as a rebel helped me make the right acquaintances."

  "It's always good to have friends!" I couldn't resist. "Was it you that poisoned Malone?"

  "He was starting to get in the
way," the architect admitted calmly, not changing his face even a bit.

  I started looking around the cage in search of a weak spot and threw out with a smirk:

  "So many deaths – and for what?"

  "If there's anyone you needn't feel sorry for, it's Joseph," Tacini snorted. "Initially, he was planning to kill the whole audience of the gala-concert with poison gas. He was prepared to kill several hundred people just to secure the death of the Crown Princess!"

  "The tanks contained a sleeping gas, not poison."

  "Well, naturally! That was down to my insisting on a change in plans. Think for yourself – the audience will fall asleep during your friend's poem about Kali, then her highness will be found strangled, a silken kerchief around her neck. Even a fool would see clearly that it was the work of the thugees!"

  "So, what made you want that?" I asked, looking hatefully at the man. "Why Liliana? What foul plan have you concocted?"

  "I'm planning to release Kali herself into our world, naturally! And I need you to help me with that," Adriano Tacini told me with a composed demeanor.

  "You must be mad!" I couldn't believe my ears. "What is this crock?!"

  "I assure you, my plan is quite within the realm of possibility," the architect declared with gruff confidence. "We've got a poet with the talent of dazzling people, and a poem about Kali. We've got hundreds of grateful viewers. Among them are many creative people and quite a lot of illustrious. And there's also a gas with an interesting narcotic effect – at lower concentrations, it doesn't merely make a person fall asleep, but puts them into a trance and frees the mind. And you already know, Lev, how strongly an illustrious person's imagination can influence reality."

  "There is no gas," I reminded him. "The tanks were confiscated."

  "Come off it!" Adriano laughed. "There's more than enough gas. The amount we pumped into the dirigible will be enough not only for the amphitheater, but for the whole city. Do you remember the street-lights that haven’t got any bulbs yet? Our gas will be sent down those lines to… liven up the boulevards. Thousands of people will be listening to the poem about Kali through the street speakers and breathing in the narcotic gas. Albert Brandt's talent and the gas will put them in a trance, and the outpouring of force will be truly colossal! They'll all be raving about Kali's arrival!"

  "What complete nonsense."

  Everything before me seemed like a bad dream. So many complications – and all for an attempt to summon Kali, which was doomed to failure from the beginning? It all felt wildly surreal.

  "You forget about Liliana. She's an irreplaceable part of the performance, with her dance. The viewers' attention will be directed at her. The flow of force will focus right on her," said the architect, unveiling another link in his chain. He had clearly been just dying to tell me this part. "Her faith that she is chosen will reach its peak during the ritual dance. Then, Brandt's voice and the gas will drive away the last of her doubts. And her talent? She can make faith manifest! She'll become a true goddess!"

  "Everyone in the audience put together doesn't even have one one-hundredth that level of power!"

  "You're right," Adriano Tacini agreed with that assertion. "To do that will require you. Digging through old designs, I found Maxwell's secret hiding spot. The vault where he imprisoned his fallen one."

  A shudder ran over me when I heard these words.

  "You have been there, after all, haven’t you?" the architect smiled. "An idiotic bit of chance that nearly ruined everything. Do you feel his presence? The demon is imprisoned directly below us."

  "No one could imprison a fallen one for such a long time!" I announced.

  "Maxwell could," Adriano shrugged. "Of course, someone has been maintaining the equipment all this time, but since the time we broke into the vault, no one has shown up. It's just luck that no power failures have happened in the interim."

  I nodded. Probably, this place had once been looked after by the mysterious order, whose members had nearly killed me on an electric chair to get their hands on a box belonging to the Duke of Arabia. But those illustrious gentlemen, who’d once occupied the inner circle of the late Emperor Clement, were all dead now, and the fallen one's prison was left with no keepers.

  My fault? Well, perhaps partially.

  "That was when this plan arose!" the architect said with a nervous laugh. "I had all the cards in my hand, all that was missing was a malefic who could draw the otherworldly force of the demon and transfer it to the girl. That could have been a problem, but you were recommended to me. And I agreed. And judge for yourself – what malefic would ever agree to part with such power? So you, my dear boy, simply have no choice."

  "Did you know that Marlini died?" I asked, wanting to throw him off balance, but he just waved it off in vexation.

  "I heard he was strangled by his lover," he frowned. "Such people are prone to fits of passion. But I no longer have a need for him. He helped me place the pieces on the chess board to compose my etude."

  "No longer have a need for him?" I laughed uncontrollably. "And how were you planning to control me? I’m in no mood to play by your rules. Draw out the power of a fallen one? You might as well ask me to drink molten lava!"

  Adriano Tacini frowned and looked at the time.

  "And what choice do you have?" he asked. "You want to die in vain? I allow it. You're free to do that. But think about those you'd be dooming to death by doing so. Think about your friend the poet, the blind illustrator and the red-headed daughter of the inspector general. Do you think they were here by chance? Nothing of the sort. They're all part of my game."

  I just snorted.

  "And what – you'll kill them if I don't agree to help?"

  "No," the architect shook his head, "but they will die. When Malone found out about the demon imprisoned in the vault, he was burning with the idea to release it during the performance so that the crown princess's death would be written off as a malefic plot. But the fallen one was imprisoned for a very long time, and no one could predict how long it would take him to level the city. The crown princess had a chance of escape, yes, but what do you think about your friends?"

  "Do you think the fallen one would have no cares beyond destroying the city?" I laughed uncontrollably.

  "He won't be able to leave it," Adriano Tacini assured me. "Maxwell made sure of that."

  "The electric streetcar line?"

  "The unbroken electric circuit will hold the fallen one in," the architect confirmed. "To get out, he'd have to pull the force from all the illustrious in the city. Do you want to know how the demon will really get free? I will set him free. All or nothing, Lev. All or nothing."

  "Curses!" I couldn't hold back.

  "Your life and that of your friends depends on who appears in the world today: a demon enraged by prolonged imprisonment or Kali. She is a headstrong goddess, sure, but not lacking mercy. At the very least, in one of her forms."

  I calmed myself down and started breathing slowly and measuredly, gathering my thoughts. No matter what, I wouldn't be leaving this room alive. Even if I did manage the fallen one, the reward for my work would be a few grams of silver molded into the shape of a bullet.

  The architect looked at the time yet again, and I hurried to distract him:

  "Where'd you ever get the notion that Kali would condescend to your requests?"

  "I can only have faith that the goddess will reward those who opened the door into this world for her. And what's more, what do I have to lose? Belinda knows she's infertile, and she cannot live with that! I, meanwhile, cannot live without Belinda. I'm afraid of leaving her alone, afraid that one day, she will try to cut her veins and succeed. And then what will I be left with. Just a bullet to the forehead. And I don't want to give up. I will force this world to bend to my will! I always get what's mine!"

  I only sighed. An unshakeable certainty in his justification sounded through in Adriano Tacini's voice. This fanatic couldn't be convinced with logical conclusions. And my talent
was also powerless – the architect just wasn't experiencing any fear or even hesitation. His mindless design and the adoration of his wife – that was all that concerned Adriano in this life.

  The suspicion even crept up on me that he wasn’t the true puppet master here.

  "Adriano!" I looked the architect in the eyes. "The fallen one has gotten inside your head! Yours and your wife’s. After all, she wasn't thinking about suicide before coming here, right? The demon cannot simply force you to turn off Maxwell's equipment, so he's manipulating you!"

  "Then disappoint him," said the architect without batting an eye. "Take his power and transfer it to Liliana."

  "And what will happen to her after that?"

  "She will become a goddess."

  "Her soul will dissolve in a torrent of power."

  "She will become a goddess!"

  "Not if I have anything to say about it!" I barked, leaping forward.

  My shoulder slammed full force into the cage door and the iron bars had already started to give, but the electrical shock instantly sent me flying back. Jumping off his chair in fear, the architect quickly regained his composure and turned the transformer regulator up a bit.

  "You have a choice to make," he announced. "The power delivered by Maxwell's device will gradually reduce. A minute after Brandt's performance is completed, it will be totally dead. But don't draw it out – the demon, I suspect, may break out even earlier. Don't miss the chance to save your friends, Lev. Don't miss it."

  I couldn't find the power to answer him. God damn that sublime electricity...

  Adriano looked at the time and pulled a rubber half-mask onto his face, covering his nose, mouth and chin; a rubber hose came from it leading to a tank of compressed air. After that, the architect turned on the wall speaker and, to the light crackling of distortion, I heard the master of ceremonies start to talk. He was introducing Albert Brandt.

  "Your move, Lev. Don't worry. It will all happen on its own. Just don't resist," the architect announced and knocked a white towel from one of the walls, revealing a fresco of Kali. The blue-skinned goddess had two pairs of arms, a necklace of skulls and Liliana's face. On another wall, I saw a similar drawing. Adriano left a third sheet hanging on the wall. Then, he put out the ceiling light and turned on a film projector. To the light humming of the mechanism, Lilianna appeared on the improvised screen, dancing with a constrictor. The recording had been made in the cabaret. The stage and curtains were familiar.