by Pavel Kornev
"Sign here," he pointed some time later. "And here and here."
I had to get out of the deep and extremely comfortable chair and place signatures where he'd made check marks.
"The money will be in the account tomorrow by the second half of the day. After, that the check can be presented for payment."
"That will do," I nodded and asked: "Do you have any cash?"
My attorney, accustomed to all manner of things, was not the least bit surprised by the unexpected question. He opened his wallet and extended me a thick packet of one-hundred-franc bills and a checkbook.
"Five thousand from your main account."
"What is left there now?"
"Seventeen thousand francs."
"Alright," I calmed down. Then I asked: "While I was... absent did any word come from the police?"
"There was one call. They wanted to question you at the Newton-Markt," my attorney confirmed, "but Maître Mogfline is worth every centime. Every last one! He disputed not only the request itself, but also the legality of the investigation as a whole! At present, the police have no questions for you!"
"Excellent!" I smiled with relief. I suspected, however, that such a favorable outcome was explained not only by the talents of my new lawyer, but also by the good will of the inspector general.
Anyway, it didn't matter.
I lead my attorney to the exit, evaluated the store-room filled with my things and looked into the kitchen where Mrs. Hardy, having taken Ramon and his nephew for simple movers, was treating them to some apple pie.
"Even better than aunt Marta's!" Tito said, enthusiastic about the desert.
Ramon, having noticed me, quickly finished his tea, thanked the housekeeper and went out into the hallway.
"Are you alright?" he asked apprehensively, nervously kneading his cap.
"Medium height, gaunt, light haired. In a dark cloak and brown hat," he said, giving a short description of Lieutenant Grace. "He came back to you today, right? Did he ask about my whereabouts?"
Ramon's high-cheekboned face went gloomy.
"Leo, believe me, there was nothing I could do!"
We went into the entryway. I pushed my former partner on the shoulder and laughed.
"Relax. That guy can find whoever he wants. He'd have strangled you, the lowlife..."
"Is it that bad?"
I shook my head.
"No, Ramon. It was bad in Gottlieb Burckhardt. But you helped me out a lot, and I value that. Take this."
The hulking man accepted the check, glanced at the sum and whistled.
"Is it all that easy?" he asked, astonished. "Fifty thousand?"
"Present the check tomorrow at the end of the day," I warned him and advised: "But don't deposit it. Take it out in cash right away and spread it around in different places. The money is clean, I just feel uneasy in my heart. You know how it is..."
"I do," Ramon nodded. "That's what I'll do."
"And be ready for a call."
"Just call."
Just then, Tito walked up to us, happy as a clam, and Ramon and his nephew headed off to the four winds. I closed the door behind them and asked the housekeeper:
"Mrs. Hardy, how are things with the rent?"
"Mr. Brandt and Ms. Montague pay on time."
I took a pack of bills from my pocket and counted out five hundred.
"Take this, it's my contribution for the future."
"There's no need for this at all!"
"Well, I feel that there is."
The proper English lady relented and put the money in her apron pocket, then enquired:
"And what became of your family manor, Viscount?"
I couldn’t think anything up, so I answered with the truth:
"Sold it to cover debts."
"So, you're going to be staying with us?"
"I hope so," I sighed and, heavily leaning on the bannister, went up the stairs to the second floor. I wanted to believe that Liliana wouldn't tell me to get lost, or even worse, would leave herself.
In the hall, my resolve to explain myself left me, and I didn't look for my girlfriend, instead falling back in a comfortable armchair in front of the roaring fireplace. The logs were cracking comfortingly, and I started to feel warm and calm. So, I settled in. I just sat there, looking at the fire. Then a glass of something milk-white was stuck into my hand.
"Sharbat," Albert Brandt told me, sitting in the armchair next to mine. "Just how you like it, with lemon juice and not vodka."
I nodded gratefully and took a small sip, but didn't say anything. Normally, there was no need, because the poet had the custom of talking enough for us both, but now he was also just staring at the fire in silence.
It was so unusual I turned and took a closer look at Albert. He had grown somewhat lean and, a deep wrinkle had set in on his high forehead but, in all other ways, his appearance had not borne any changes. It made little difference that his disheveled hair had been styled to disorder by an expensive barber, or that his sand-colored beard was somewhat more even and groomed than before. His light gray illustrious eyes looked at me just as penetratingly as always, as if looking through me.
"I won't ask where you disappeared to for two months," Albert warned with a smirk, "but I can see that this trip wasn’t as pleasant as your last one."
"Dante Alighieri ventured to hell on his own will. I was thrown there."
"Very vivid," the poet praised me. "An excellent allegory!"
"Banal hyperbole."
"I can see you're not in the mood, my friend," Albert smiled in understanding, walking to the bar and pouring himself a brandy. With a bulbous glass in hand, he returned but didn't sit in the chair and looked me from top to bottom. "Well, I'm doing just fine. Excellent even! I'm staging my own play in the Imperial Theater. How do you like that? I'm hiring actors, agreeing on a budget, and leading rehearsals." The poet finished the brandy and said with a fastidious grimace: "I've turned from a creator into devil knows what! An administrator! Can you imagine it, Leo? Albert Brandt, an administrator! And half a month ago, my wife fell into a coma. I never would have made it without your Liliana."
"Don't exaggerate," I laughed. "You'd have hired a nurse."
Albert thought it over and nodded.
"Yes, that would have been another way."
"And, in the theater, it's like you're in a raspberry patch," I continued, finishing the sharbat. "The actresses must jump into your bed all on their own, isn't that right?"
The poet snorted in laughter and sat back in his chair.
"Hrmph, my cynical friend. It isn't all puppies and rainbows. I had to become a temporary celibate."
"Oh yeah?"
"Oh, you don't even know these seasoned she-wolves! They're sweet and sympathetic while you're a popular poet but, as soon as it's in your power to give them a part, they’ll drink all the juice out of you. Vampires have nothing on them! It's a nightmare!"
I set the glass aside, but not on the arm of the chair, on the floor next to the chair and asked:
"Then why did you agree to the work?"
Albert shrugged his shoulders.
"Interesting experience. New acquaintances. Decent money. And again, it isn't all so great as before with private performances."
"Why's that?" I asked in surprise. "Are you saying the admirers of astonishing wordplay have not yet returned to the capital from vacation?"
"They have, of course! The theater season is in full swing," Albert Brandt confirmed and ran his long thin fingers through his hair. "The problem is the reductionists. Those people have started to interrupt performances of the illustrious. There's no way for them to get into the Imperial Theater, but private guards simply don't tangle with them. They say a militant cell of reductionists has sprung up in the capital but, for now, all attacks on the illustrious are written off by the police as anarchist crimes."
The news grated on me unpleasantly. It was all wrong. So, I clarified:
"Is this all because of the dea
th of the Empress?"
"Yes, the old bat would quickly bring them all to heel," the poet nodded. "But Duke Logrin is too big a politician for decisive action. He's a proponent of compromises and tries to agree with everyone. However, he only became regent due to compromises. And they say that the coalition providing him the majority of votes in the Imperial Council may collapse at any moment, if it hasn't already."
"That's a bit too complex for me," I sighed.
Would the recovery of Crown Princess Anna be a boon to the Empire, or would it lead to a further growth in tensions? I didn't know and hadn't particularly considered that factor. In any case, none of that depended on me now. I had managed to return Elizabeth-Maria to life, but the succubus possessed her own strength. I just had to give it an initial impulse, kickstart the fly wheel. But handling the Princess's ailment would be incomparably more difficult. There was no way around it without my lost illustrious talent.
Albert walked out of the armchair to the divan, lit a hookah and started puffing on the carved elephant-bone mouthpiece.
"Let's not talk of sad things!" he declared, releasing a long stream of fragrant smoke toward the ceiling. "The health of my dear wife has surprisingly gone on the mend, and she is totally fervent with energy, a font of new ideas!"
I looked at the poet with interest.
"What did I miss?"
"You? Nothing," Albert laughed. "The conversation was tête-à-tête. Behind closed doors. And do you know what my better half said at the culmination of our... uhhh... conversation?"
"How would I?"
"She wants to fly!"
"What, excuse me?" I figured I must have misheard.
"She feels drawn to the sky," Brandt declared. "The sky, Leo! Airplanes! Dirigibles, she said, are for boring old men!"
"The result of her fever, must be. It will pass."
"Well, I doubt that. Once she's got something in her head, she won't back down."
"But an airplane? A woman pilot? Balderdash!"
Albert laughed:
"You haven't seen her new hairstyle yet! Now that will be a furor, when she shows herself in public!" He grabbed the hookah mouthpiece, drew on it and exhaled, saying judiciously: "But in light of the premier of my play, a little scandal won't hurt. I should add, you know, some peppercorns..."
"Don't burn yourself," I warned him.
"You're advising me from the heights of your life experience?" the poet cheered up. "Leo, it's already eleven o'clock, allow me an immodest question, why haven’t you gone to bed yet? What circumstance darkened the reunion of two loving hearts?"
"I cannot stand," I answered calmly.
"You fought, and now you think Liliana has locked the bedroom door from inside? You're afraid you'll knock, and she won't answer?"
I looked gloomily at my friend, then with a heavy sigh admitted:
"That's exactly right."
"And you're planning to spend the whole night here in hopes that you'll be forgiven and called to her bed?"
"Yes."
"It's time to grow up, Leo," Albert Brandt shook his head. "You need to learn to smooth out discord. Go and ask forgiveness. It doesn't matter what for, it doesn't matter who's at fault. Just make the first move. This chair won’t be going anywhere."
I just sighed and wrapped myself tighter in the robe. A chill came over me.
"Are you afraid?" The poet had my number.
I didn't know the answer to his question.
Was I afraid of destroying my relationship with Lily and causing her pain?
I was afraid yes, but now out of habit, without the former sharpness. I mean, Liliana attracted me no less than before, I just couldn't hold back the fear, to the point my hands sweated, my knees shook, and I went mute. It was like I was watching this all from a different perspective.
Before, I had been sold short by a lack of confidence in my own powers and ability to abstract myself but now, I would be happy to put that all back, so I could feel all the fullness of life, but I couldn't.
That damned electroshock therapy...
"Go to bed," Albert advised me.
I got up from the chair with effort and was quickly set upon by vertigo. My legs became cotton, my ears started ringing, and the chill gave way to a fire. Sweat ran down my back. My bones and joints were spinning, my muscles were tearing in pain. And I hadn’t the slightest confidence that I would be able to lay down tonight without my already customary injection of morphine.
"Do you need help?" Albert asked compassionately. "You're white as death."
"No need! I just sat for too long," I said with a crooked smile, peeling myself off the back of the chair and heading out of the guest room. "Good night!"
"It's the second door after the bathroom!" the poet told me.
He didn't have to warn me, there was only one room in the corridor with its light on. The uneven luster of its nightlight peeked out into the darkness under the door.
I was leaning heavily on the wall and stood that way for some time, but not too long. My knees were giving out, forcing me to gather my resolve, push the door and walk through. Liliana, having changed her dress for a nighty, was lying in bed and reading a book; the light of the electric lamp over the bed cut painfully into my eyes, which had grown accustomed to the gloom.
"Lily!" I pressed out of myself and licked my dried-out lips, not knowing how to start the conversation.
She set the book on the bedside table and sighed.
"Go to sleep, Leo. You don't have a face on!"
"I can't argue with that," I muttered, walking around the bed and throwing my robe on it, sitting down on the firm mattress with a prolonged moan.
"Good heavens!" Liliana gasped behind me. "That scar wasn't there before!"
"It was, of course," I answered and tried to lie down, but my girlfriend held me back.
"No, not that one! On your spine, a bit above the base!" Liliana looked harder and easily sniffed out my lie. "The wound is still healing! And that is the trace of a bullet wound! Leo, were you shot in the back?"
It would have been stupid to deny the obvious.
"Indeed I was," I sighed and slowly lowered down on my pillow.
"By who?"
"I don't know."
I felt another chill, and pulled the comforter over me, at the same time hiding the bruises on my ribs.
"Leo, what if the bullet had hit you in the heart? You would have died!" Liliana shivered. "And with a damaged spine, you could have been left paralyzed for the rest of your life!"
"I know," I sighed. "I know. But none of it depended on me. It just happened to come together like that. And, as you see, I wasn't paralyzed."
Liliana sat up in bed next to me and asked with reproach:
"Why didn't you send me notice?"
"I couldn't."
"How do you mean?"
I covered the girl's palm with my hand and slightly clenched my fingers.
"Lily, I really couldn't. The wound was too serious, and I still haven't fully recovered."
"I could have helped!"
"I know. But the bullet really did damage my spine. I was paralyzed for some time. I didn't have any documents, no one knew who I was, and I couldn't tell anyone myself."
"Albert went to all the hospitals!"
"He didn't think to go to Gottlieb Burckhardt. And he wouldn't have been let in."
"You were placed in Gottlieb Burckhardt?" Liliana was struck. "But why?!"
"I was sent for forced treatment. As you understand, I couldn't object. But it turned out for the best. The electroshock therapy put me back on my feet. And I came back as soon as I could."
"And your relatives?"
"They helped me get out of the clinic," I answered diffusely, pulling Lily to me and kissing her. "Let's sleep!"
But Liliana wasn't thinking of calming down. Returning my kiss, she suddenly dove under the comforter and led her hand over my chest. My heart was skipping beats. The girl's fingers were sliding over my skin as if o
n bare nerves. I was thirsting for it to continue but, at the same time, I was afraid. And that was tearing my soul to pieces.
"I missed you so, Leo!" Liliana whispered and, for a minute I thought her colorless gray eyes were burning brighter than the lamp at the bedside.
"I missed you too, dear."
"But I missed you more..."
Her feminine fingers slid from my chest to my stomach, and I smiled in torment.
"I don't think I'll be able to do much in that regard today."
But Liliana kept kissing my chest, gradually going lower and leading with her hand.
"Please, it’s no use!" I gasped out hoarsely, feeling the locks of her black hair tickle my skin.
"Calm down, dear. I know what I'm doing!" Liliana called back and fell silent, not ceasing in her attempts to rouse me. Very soon, I understood that the light finger touches that had seemed to be playing on my bare nerves were nothing in comparison with these new sensations. And now I wanted just one thing: for this to never end. What was more, I was shivering from just the thought of the inevitable finale.
But it wasn't that ambrosial fear that unbound my tongue at all. No, I simply realized that, if I didn't tell Liliana about myself now, I'd never get the chance. And there's little that kills feeling so quickly as skeletons in the closet.
"You want to know about my relatives, Lily?" I exhaled hoarsely. "Alright then, listen up..."
5
I TOLD HER everything. Everything that was relevant to me.
I didn't consider it proper to reveal other peoples' secrets. Some secrets don't kill relationships, they kill people with loose lips. I didn't tell Liliana anything about the Princess's phantom heart, or about where the scars on my chest had come from. But in every other regard, I was absolutely open with her for the first time since we'd met.
And in the end, I felt at ease. Really.
However, there were also purely physiological reasons for that.
"Now you can sleep," Lily sleepily purred into my ear, embracing me and dozing off before I even managed to answer.
I reached for the switch and turned out the light. My heart was beating unevenly, but the girl's measured breathing had already calmed me down, serving as a metronome and setting a rhythm.