Leopold Orso and the Case of the Bloody Tree (Sublime Electricity

by Pavel Kornev

  Leopold Orso

  and the Case of the Bloody Tree

  Sublime Electricity: The Prequel

  by Pavel Kornev

  Magic Dome Books

  Leopold Orso and The Case of the Bloody Tree

  (Sublime Electricity: The Prequel)

  Copyright © Pavel Kornev 2017

  Cover Art © Vladimir Manyukhin 2017

  Translator © Andrew Schmitt 2017

  Published by Magic Dome Books, 2017

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN mobi: 978-80-88231-02-8

  ISBN epub: 978-80-88231-01-1

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is entirely a work of fiction. Any correlation with real people or events is coincidental.

  UPON BEING promoted to the rank of detective constable of the New Babylon Police, Leopold Orso had no idea that, from then on, he would have to track down succubae, exorcise poltergeists and hunt for werebeasts. But, even after grappling with the supernatural had become routine, he was still thrown into a trembling fear every time he thought back on his first investigation: The Case of the Bloody Tree.

  The Second Empire stretches from ocean to ocean. Army dirigibles hum through the heavens, and its waters are furrowed by steamships. But above all else, the power of the state is derived from industry. So one day, when workers start disappearing from a nearby factory, the New Babylon Criminal Investigation Department takes up the case. But, the detectives have no idea what horrors the acrid char of factory smokestacks can awaken...

  "CUT OUT YOUR HEART, AND BRING IT TO HER..."

  Steamphonia, "We have no time"

  1

  TWO SHORT horn-blasts, and the bench jerked forward. The windows clacked, and the walls of the train started to creak. With a lurch, the train started off on its way, slowly picking up speed and leaving the depot's platform behind. The steam train threw wisps of black smoke into the air; they enshrouded the vehicle in a gray haze, which trickled past the windows, causing a tickling in the throat. I coughed.

  "Get out at the next stop..."

  The thought ran down my spine with an eerie chill, terror scratching at my soul. I hurriedly tossed a mint sugar-drop into my mouth. After that, I unfolded my newspaper, blocking off my fellow passengers with its yellowing pages. But the latest news was of little interest to me. As usual, all my attention was drawn by a picture of a girl on the second page.

  Her refined hourglass figure, her gorgeous locks of red hair, her charming smile, and her light gray eyes with orange sparkles.

  Pure blather, of course! The grainy photograph was, in fact, black and white. Instead of those eyes, all I could see was a pair of light gray spots. But that didn't bother me. The girl's image was imprinted in my mind; I could return to it at any moment I wished.

  Unfortunately, though, I didn't manage to distract myself from the bad premonitions.

  "Billy, looks like little Leo here's getting too big for his britches!" sounded out from the opposite bench.

  "Come now, Jimmy!" came the other wisecracker, quickly picking up the game. "It’s not little Leo anymore, it’s Detective Constable Leopold Orso! He was even dignified with an invitation to the winter ball! We're no match for him anymore!"

  "Look at him. It seems like all this newfound prestige has gone to his head!" the first kidder laughed back. "He's still dragging around that week-old paper!"

  "Come off it! The man’s a Viscount. He's been accustomed to society dinners since he was in short pants! That's just how the promotion affected him! I mean, it sounds like a joke! Twenty years old and already a detective constable of criminal investigations! What a dazzling career he has ahead of him!"

  With a gloomy sigh, I set aside the edition of the Atlantic Express and stored it in the side pocket of my rubberized cloak with brand new patches.

  The constables on the opposite bench were baring their teeth in anticipation of a response. The short hulking black-haired man sitting next to me didn't leave them disappointed.

  "Don't pay it any mind, Leo," he yawned, covering his mouth with a wide hand. "They're just jealous."

  Jimmy and Billy started clucking away in laughter, their card game on the bench now completely forgotten.

  "Well now, Ramon, a promotion is definitely out of the question for you!" Billy cried out, melting into a wide frog-like smile.

  "You're a bit too... Aztecky for that!" came the red-headed Jimmy, supporting his friend.

  A true Catalan would have immediately grabbed for his clasp-knife, but Ramon Miro's temperament had more affinity with that of his mother, a native of the New World. He let the insult go in one ear and out the other, revealed the stock of the lupara lying on his knees, and placed a new electric jar into it.

  The weapon with four short ten-caliber barrels used electrically ignited rounds, so both magic and infernal creatures were powerless to stop it from shooting, but it often misfired due to the jar's poor ability to hold a charge.

  I clipped my glasses to my nose in silence with their dark round lenses, letting them know that I was not in the mood to crack wise. Jimmy and Billy exchanged sour glances and returned to their card game.

  My coworkers could try to hide their anxiety with mockery or artificial ambivalence all they liked. I could still feel their nervousness perfectly. And truth be told, I was experiencing a bout of nerves myself. The photos of the crime scene were just too ghoulish. New Babylon was a notorious cesspit, but still, over all my years of service with the criminal investigations department, I had yet to come across such unmotivated yet cold and calculated cruelty.

  The train tracks went up the mountain. The train was rocking from side to side, and my eyelids began sticking together. But just then, as bad luck would have it, the conductor walked up.

  "Detective Constable Orso?" he asked, turning to me. "Inspector White would like you to join him."

  It couldn’t have been anything bad, mostly because of how close we were to our destination, but my heart still sank. After giving a sorrowful sigh, I took off my raincoat and followed the conductor into the first-class car. As I walked by, I tossed my gaze on a mirrored panel and winced involuntarily.

  Ugh... Handsome I certainly was not. I was too tall and ungainly. The situation could be rectified by a suit from a good tailor, though. My uniform not only fit badly, but also bulged out along the belt, where I kept my holster.

  No matter! I'd be a legal adult in just three months, then my rich uncle would have to give me my share of the family estate, whether he liked it or not.

  But I immediately remembered my multi-thousand-franc debt, and sighed in pity. Everything changes, but not nearly as fast as I'd like it to.

  Inspector Robert White was traveling alone in a sleeper car. He was sitting casually, splayed out in a soft armchair reading the materials on the case. As soon as I walked in, the inspector tossed the folder on the table and furrowed his brow.

  "Still in uniform?" he asked in surprise. "Leopold, you're a detective constable now. You don't have to wear the uniform anymore."

  "Habit," I smiled back rigidly.

  "Take a seat!" Robert White pointed at the seat opposite and suggested: "Do you want everyone to know who they're dealing w
ith just by looking? Do you feel that self-assured?"

  The inspector's face was plump and soft looking, but White was neither soft nor naive. And, in that the curse of the fallen was lurking in the inspector's blood, giving him the unique talent to sense lies, I took refuge in half-truths:

  "That's part of it."

  I didn't want to talk about my difficult financial situation. That was the true reason I had opted to keep wearing my police uniform to work. I could even get it mended and cleaned on the company dime.

  Robert White squinted his colorless gray illustrious eyes and asked:

  "Be so kind as to remove your glasses."

  I obeyed, but without any desire.

  On the Night of Titanium Blades, the streets of New Babylon had been flooded with the blood of the fallen. It had poisoned some and given unbelievable abilities to others. My parents had left me with a talent that wasn't the most pleasant. I was able to bring others' nightmares to life, so I felt more secure hiding my colorless eyes behind the dark lenses of my glasses.

  "What made you want to become a policeman, Leo?" the inspector suddenly inquired.

  "I heard the Newton-Markt paid well," I answered, habitually chasing off the memories of the horrible night when my family mansion had been visited by death itself. Only my father and I had the good fortune to escape with our lives. The subsequent investigation came to naught. The case was archived, but in the depths of my soul, I was nursing the hope that I would be able to solve it on my own.

  Robert White shook his head with an incredulous smile and began packing his pipe with fragrant Persian tobacco.

  "Are you already familiar with the materials on the case?" he asked, pointing to the folder.

  "I am," I confirmed, "and I do not understand why the investigation was delegated to us precisely."

  "Who else should it have gone to?" the inspector furrowed his brow. "The local precinct is just three constables and a sergeant, and this is an extraordinary matter!"

  I couldn't argue with that. The mysterious disappearance of three workers from the processing plant and the cruel murder of the guard could cause high-level repercussions in the capital, which was to say nothing of this small provincial village!

  After all, the unfortunate chain of events could have all been avoided if they’d just performed an elementary check after their first workman disappeared, which was how this whole business had started. But no, it was written off as a commonplace accident like someone falling into a wood chipper or slipping into a barrel of lye. Then, a few days later, when two stokers disappeared during the same night shift, they didn't take that to the police either. They just sent their guards to patrol the factory at night, but that only ended in the factory losing a member of their security force.

  Only after the unfortunate man's ghastly mutilated body was found in a nearby stream were the police brought in. And soon after that, the case caught the attention of the Newton-Markt.

  The perspective of trying to follow the cold trail of the mad butcher made me quite upset. The inspector, though, looked inspired by the upcoming investigation. He struck a match on the side of the table, waited for the bright smoky phosphorus flame to change into an even glow and started drawing on his pipe.

  "Leo, you'll never become a good policeman until you learn to trust your gut and see possibility where others see nothing but a burden."

  I couldn't restrain a skeptical smile, but then Robert White gave a dejected head shake, took a puff of his pipe and asked:

  "Say, do you know where we're going?"

  "To Milnek's processing plant."

  "And you couldn't be bothered to find out what they process?"

  "I assume it's not gold."

  "Gold?" the inspector snorted. "No, not gold. Aluminum. Tell me, Leo, what do they make from aluminum?"

  Here though, I answered without the slightest hesitation:

  "Dirigible bodies."

  "That's right!" White confirmed. "It's a strategic metal!"

  I nodded, acknowledging my own lack of consideration. Army dirigibles were the military upper hand that allowed the soldiers of our united New World colonies to hold back the Aztec onslaught. Our air superiority was also the only thing stopping Great Egypt, Persia, and the Celestial Kingdom from declaring war on us over their many territorial ambitions. What was more, the process to obtain pure aluminum, like that for titanium, had been invented relatively recently. Wizards and otherworldly beings simply could not defend against objects made of them with their spells.

  "Do you suspect sabotage?" I inquired. "Sabotage of aluminum shipments would appear to be the work of Great Egypt, and espionage would fall under Department Three's jurisdiction, not that of the CID."

  But Robert White responded to my suggestion with unhidden skepticism.

  "Fortunately, these regrettable incidents did not harm the factory’s production capabilities. And the rage of the ideological Luddites is directed at mechanisms, not people," he said, shaking his head. He tapped out his finished pipe, then continued thoughtfully. "As long as the missing persons didn't see something they weren't supposed to..."

  What could a simple guard have seen to make them flay him alive?

  I was reminded of the pictures of the crime scene; I shook my head with determination, chasing away the unpleasant memories and asked:

  "Where should we start?"

  "The inspector general ordered me to go reassure the workers. First of all, we'll set up regular night patrols. I'll meet the manager, you look over the crime scene..."

  We discussed the forthcoming investigation for some time, then the inspector lit his pipe again and asked carelessly:

  "How did you like the winter ball, Leo?"

  I started trembling inside, but I didn't show it, answering calmly:

  "I'm still under its sway."

  "Look at you!" the inspector laughed uncontrollably. "If you only could have seen the fireworks display they put on two years ago for the fifty-year anniversary of the Night of Titanium Blades! The fallen in hell must have felt sick!"

  Robert White got lost in memories, and I nodded along, throwing out a "yes" when need be. It was getting gradually lighter outside. A long horn-blow blasted out, and the train began slowing its pace.

  "This is our station!" the inspector announced. "Go tell the others!"

  I returned my glasses to my nose and hurried back to my train car.

  IT WAS COLD and windy outside. The snow that had fallen over the night wasn't even close to melting. Ice-tinged puddles on the sidewalk were shining up at me.

  "Now, we've gotta make our way to the factory," said Jimmy, looking around in sorrow, "I'm freezing my ass off..."

  Billy tossed a wad of chew into his mouth, and unleashed a ball of yellow spit underfoot.

  "Make sure something else down there doesn’t freeze, old Jim. You’ll jingle as you walk!" The constable smiled, but it was obvious that he fully shared the despondency of his partner.

  As, it should be said, Ramon and I also did. In New Babylon, snow was a rare occurrence. Evidence of the proximity of the Atlantic Ocean. Generally, the wet white flakes that fell there would melt just after they touched the ground.

  Devil! Atlantis is an arm’s breadth from Portugal, and not so far from Africa, but when you get into the mountains, it's cold as Siberia.

  "I’ll jingle?" Jimmy furrowed his brow. "Better to have them jingling, than having the factory butcher lop 'em off at the root..."

  "No matter. You could go to Persia and find work as a eunuch!" Billy replied, easily finding his place.

  "Wrap it up," I said to the jokesters, having lost it after hearing the nickname the newspapermen had stuck to our murderer. "I’m feeling sick enough as it is..."

  At that moment, Inspector White left the train wearing a gray cloak and derby hat to match. In one hand, he was carrying a cane and, in the other, a rumpled leather traveling bag. Behind him, there came a baggage-laden porter.

  "After me!" said our boss, sa
luting us with his cane as he walked off around the train station building.

  At the gate, we found a police armored carriage waiting for us. It looked like an iron box on four hefty wheels with a machine-gun tower on the roof. And though we weren’t expecting it to be particularly comfortable, we hurried inside, trying to escape the glacial wind.

  The constables and I took our seats on the benches in the carriage; Robert White took a seat next to the driver looking as comfortable as ever.

  The powder engine gave a few claps, then started rollicking away with a measured popping, and the clumsy-looking vehicle rolled off down the road. Jimmy and Billy fell asleep very quickly, and Ramon Miro began fiddling with his police-issue electric torch. I turned away to the side window.

  I was struck by the darkened snow outside. It seemed to be saturated with coal dust. But I didn't have to think over why that was for too long: soon, the armored car turned a corner and I could see wisps of black smoke climbing up into half of the sky.

  Now, the wind was carrying the fumes away from the village, but based on the blackened walls of the homes with dirty streaks of ash, that wasn't always the case. I also saw the trees on the slopes, marred by withered foliage. In places, the bushes were totally dead and black. Many of the towering pines were entirely desiccated.

  The armored car came on top of the hill, and we were revealed a view of the factory. It was so massive it seemed to be a whole bustling city in miniature. The brick workshop buildings were separated by narrow alley-passageways. On the outskirts, there was a sinister-looking boiler room looming. Right behind it, the coal heaps began. Further in the vacant lot, there were scattered foundations being dug out for new buildings and, beyond that, beckoned a boundless quarry. In it, many-ton machines savaged the earth with their scoops then dumped the debris out into steam trucks. The great hulking monsters waited to be filled up, turned around and unhurriedly crawled up to the factory.