by Pavel Kornev
So, I just waved my hand and headed home. Sleep.
BUT IT WASN'T so easy to get to bed.
Elizabeth-Maria knocked me off course. She examined me closely then declared in a tone that wouldn't bear objection:
"A glass of tea would do you good."
I looked at the reflection of my pale and peaked countenance, turned away from the mirror and nodded:
"Alright, make up a pot."
"You'll drink it in the kitchen. I hope that at least can teach you to come home on time!"
I didn't start a fight over it; I just wasn't in the mood. I silently hung my dusty jacket on a hanger, placed my cane in the umbrella stand, then got out of my mud-caked boots and walked into the kitchen.
I took a seat at the window, finished the hot sweet tea and stared thoughtlessly at the wet, black trees of my garden.
"I'm starting to see that coming back in the morning is a habit of yours!" the succubus noted pointedly as she lit the stove.
I stayed silent. I didn't want to talk, or move. Even the bed no longer called to me with the promise of slumber. It now seemed impossibly far away.
I sat at the window and drank tea.
Elizabeth Maria stopped trying to make me talk and set a thick cast-iron pan on the fire. She poured oil in, added spices, and the kitchen immediately filled with the smell of exotic goodness. A few minutes later, a glob of meat was slapped down on the red-hot metal, but I didn't pay the hissing and sizzling sounds the slightest bit of mind. Only when the girl set a plate of barely cooked steak before me did I express my incomprehension:
"Don't you think this is a bit rich for breakfast?"
"Look at yourself, you're all skin and bones!" the girl objected. "Also, I suspect this is not breakfast for you, but a late dinner."
"Where'd you get the idea I wanted to eat?"
"You smell of death," Elizabeth-Maria answered calmly, "and for a man, killing is but the prelude to a substantial repast. Even if you're killing something like yourself. It's an ancient custom."
"Like myself?" I asked, making a face. "Today, we killed a werewolf. A ghastly monster."
"Do you suppose you're so very different from him?" the girl couldn't resist joking back.
I squirmed.
"Yes, I do!" I threw out sharply. "I am very different. Is that clear?"
"As you say, dear," Elizabeth-Maria shrugged her shoulders and took a bottle of sherry from the drawer. "Yes, that reminds me! The red wine is still disappearing. You better bring your light-haired monkey to reason before I cut his hands off."
"The leprechaun and I haven't been able to find a common tongue recently," I shook my head.
To be honest, my childhood imaginary friend's trickery was now driving me totally crazy. I hadn't thought about the rude pipsqueak for many long years, and now couldn't get my head around why on earth he'd suddenly popped out of my subconscious. It scared me, because it meant I might lose control over my own gift. No nightmare I'd ever created before had stayed in the world for so long. No fantasy had seemed so real.
Elizabeth-Maria was just a clever succubus, but what was powering the leprechaun?
I had no answer to the question.
"That pipsqueak drinks like a horse," the girl complained, taking a seat opposite me with a glass of fortified wine and setting a dish of sauce before me. "Eat!"
I was about to refuse, but my stomach suddenly moaned out in hunger. And though I had never especially cared for undercooked meat – and when I cut into the steak, blood came out – I had to admit that it wasn’t at all bad. The spicy sauce had a flavor I couldn't place, but it was surprisingly subtle, and went with the steak perfectly.
"Have you ever heard of the Convent?" I asked the girl, cutting another bite of meat.
"The Convent?" Elizabeth Maria asked in confusion and sipped the wine, trying to hide her puzzlement. "Ideologues," she said after a pause so long I wasn't even really expecting her to answer.
"Ideologues?" I didn't understand.
"Typical malefics are simply happy to sell their pitiful little souls in exchange for a little bit of power and mortal prosperity. These are not like that. They tell tales of old. They want to bring those times back."
"Is that so?"
"That is precisely so," she attested. "And why do you ask?"
I just shrugged my shoulders, not telling her the dying werebeast's final words.
"Don't get involved with the Convent," Elizabeth-Maria warned me. "They're dangerous. Extremely dangerous. If you cross their path, they'll kill you and eat your soul."
"Where's all this sudden concern for my soul coming from?"
For a moment, from behind the imaginary exterior of a sweet-looking girl, her true appearance stepped out, revealing an infernal creature with the fiery red eyes of a hellbeast. They burned into me with unconcealed hatred.
"If they eat it, there’d be nothing left for me!" the succubus announced.
But it was very easy for me not to play along. I had a good understanding of fears and could say for certain that the succubus was afraid. And that she was afraid on her own account, not mine.
"Weren't you summoned from hell by a malefic?" I squinted. "Was he from the Convent?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"You ran from him and he's searching for you. Is that right? What would happen if he finds you?"
"You won't manage to get into my head, Leo," Elizabeth-Maria said with a sweet smile. But I wasn't ready to change the topic.
"Perhaps he even put a bounty out on you." I posited, looking the succubus right in the eyes.
"You don't understand the first thing," the girl sighed. "Leo, you and I have an agreement. And that could only mean one thing..."
"And just what is that?"
"He is long dead," Elizabeth-Maria stated. "He pulled off his own head. You can't even imagine how great it was!"
"Please, spare me the details! We're at the table!"
"It wasn't I who started this conversation," the succubus reminded me dryly. "And no, he wasn't from the Convent. The arrogant twerp! Smart people choose devils and minor evil spirits as familiars. With them, you can do whatever you want! But he chose a succubus! The arrogant upstart!"
"But minor evil spirits don't give as much power, isn't that right?" I asked, surprised. "What's the good of that?"
"Power?" the girl laughed uncontrollably. "The source of power is the divine fire of the human soul. Familiars serve a different purpose."
"Please enlighten me, then."
But the girl had already finished her wine and gotten up from the table.
"Finish eating and go off to bed," she demanded. After that, she went over to the neighboring window, looked at the dead garden and suddenly stated: "Pain."
"What? Excuse me?" I asked, pretending not to have heard her.
"Pain," Elizabeth-Maria repeated. "This world is a constant source of pain, but when one's master casts a spell, that pain is multiplied ten-fold. Familiars absorb that pain. That's all. And not all the pain can be absorbed, just some. But even that causes unbearable suffering."
"Is that so?"
"Oh, yes! The burning tears your head to bits and pierces you through with hundreds of icy needles. Have you ever heard of Chinese water torture? The monotonous pain bears down on you and brings you to the level of an animal. When someone speaks to you, you can hear the words, but they mean nothing. In fact, you cannot even perceive that you really are hearing them."
"And are you suffering this pain now?"
"No, sweet Leo. Not at all. Thanks to this body," the girl said, turning away from the window and leading her hand from her chest to her thigh, "the pain left me. But it's around here somewhere. Look for yourself."
I nodded and got up from the table.
"Leo! Stay away from the Convent!" the succubus repeated. "Don't make them angry. Don't talk to them. Don't look at them, and don't even tread in their shadows. Just forget they exist. That's my advice to you."
/> "Shadows?" I perked up my ears. "Shadows with their own life force?"
Elizabeth-Maria didn't answer at all, turning away toward the window again.
I hesitated, but in the end, I didn't pester her with an interrogation. I just waved my hand and headed into the bedroom.
Malefics, their familiars and a strange burning. The dead Kira and her companion. The strangler's shadows. All these things could have been part of something bigger, but my weariness was stopping me from sorting it all out. The only thing I had the energy for was crawling up to bed, climbing into it and putting a pillow under my head.
Sleep!
2
I WOKE UP in a flash. I just opened my eyes and felt a clear presentiment of misfortune. I grabbed my Roth-Steyr from the bedside table and hopped out of bed.
I looked into the kitchen and caught my breath with relief. There was no one there.
A bad dream?
But then, I saw that my window had been left open. On the windowsill, there appeared the gaunt figure of a werefox; a bounding leap and she was already in the middle of the room.
"Long time no see," said the miniature-framed girl with a clear Chinese accent. Then, her smooth face stretched out into a ghastly snout. Her bared teeth shimmered back at me with a yellow glint. They were small, but extremely sharp.
That they were sharp I could be certain. And so, without any hesitation, I unloaded my pistol at the beast as she prepared for a jump. The bullets slammed full force into a wooden panel behind the fox's back. She herself leaped toward me, but even faster, I threw a hand forward and snapped:
"Enough!"
The beast evaporated. Just a stiff wisp of air remained, hitting me in the face, finally chasing off what was left of my dream. It was a nightmare, just a nightmare...
I subconsciously worried that the fox would try to get even with me, and my talent didn't delay in bringing that fear to life. Recently, my talent had gone totally out of control, no matter how unfortunate that was.
A knock came at the door; I unlocked it and let Elizabeth-Maria into the room.
"Another nightmare?" she asked calmly, having noticed the many bullet holes in the ceiling.
"Not at all," I objected, looking at the smoking pistol in my hand and shrugging my shoulders. "I was trying to draw her Imperial Majesty's monogram. That's all."
"At least you've got a hobby," the girl snorted and hid in the hallway. "Go to the range! You're a horrible shot!" she shouted, already down the hall.
Theodor came in to replace the acid-tongued redhead.
"Would you like me to fix it, Viscount?" he asked me, studying the mess I'd made.
"I suppose we could just hang a rug over it," I decided, taking out my extra clip. I then noticed that my Butler’s skin was looking abnormally pale and asked: "Is everything alright, Theodor?"
"Naturally, Viscount," my servant assured me expectedly. His face was noticeably upset, though. It was as if some power accessible only to twins had made him sense the death of his brother.
It would have been nice to tell him about his brother's untimely end, but I hesitated, not sure how my servant would react to the news. Did he really need all these tribulations now? I wasn't convinced.
"You may go," I said, dismissing my butler without having come to any definite decision.
At one point, I'd be sure to tell him everything, but not now. Some other time.
Cowardice, you say? Nothing of the sort. Simple tact, and nothing more. One mustn't simply up and dump that kind of news on one's butler! He must be prepared for it first. I'd have to think something up...
Alright, so it was cowardice. What of it?
Who among us is without flaws?
I reloaded my Roth-Steyr, got dressed and left the bedroom. I went down to the first floor and looked cantankerously at my reflection in the mirror. But my suit was fitting perfectly as if it had been sewn to my exact order. Surprising even, considering my tall and lank dimensions. Trying to buy a suit when you looked like I did was pure torture.
"Leo!" Elizabeth-Maria called out to me from the kitchen. "Let's go drink tea!"
"Not now!" I refused, looking at the clock on the wall. It was already two in the afternoon.
"Leo!" The girl raised her voice.
I gave a heavy sigh and relented.
"Let's try to pretend we're a normal family," Elizabeth-Maria suggested when I had taken my seat at the table and was staring out the window.
I still had the urge to answer rudely but, by force of will, I held back the inappropriate outburst and just noted:
"That would mean we should act like master and servant, then. That seems most appropriate to our situation."
Elizabeth-Maria put two spoons of sugar in her cup and parried calmly:
"Many families have just that sort of interaction, dear. The husband – sovereign and the wife – his rightless slave."
I grabbed a piece of toast from the basket and took off the top from a jar of raspberry jam. I scooped it onto a knife and shook my head with a bitter sigh:
"A succubus suffragette. Where is this world headed?"
"I cannot claim that we have equal rights in hell, but we are certainly more tolerant of others' faults, dear. You mortals could learn a thing or two from us."
"Ugh, no thank you!" I snorted, finishing my tea and asking: "What do you know about vampires?"
The girl tilted her head to the side and stared at me, suggesting I go on.
"It’s not such a hard question," I muttered, slathering my second piece of toast with jam. "You know, vampires! Fangs, pale skin, allergy to sunlight, an unhealthy obsession with others' blood. What do you know about them?"
"Are you planning a trip to Transylvania?" Elizabeth-Maria joked.
Or maybe she wasn't joking, and was totally serious.
"Why Transylvania?"
"Remember our conversation yesterday about the burning?" The girl stared thoughtfully at a glass of tea, then pushed it away from herself and went to get some wine; she had stashed a bottle of fortified red in the grain drawer.
"The burning?" I asked in surprise. "What of it?"
"Malefics experience the pain only when they are casting a spell. And that doesn't happen so terribly often. They can either bear it or force a familiar to suffer along with them. Werebeasts experience torturous pain immediately after they turn back into humans but, even still, they are infrequent visitors to New Babylon."
I nodded, agreeing with her assessment. Elizabeth-Maria continued:
"Underworld natives arrive to this world in their natural state. They rid themselves of the pain by clothing themselves in the flesh of others, taking human souls and bodies. Other creatures, the offspring of times gone by, either run from civilization, or become degraded, losing the last remnants of their mind. Only ghosts and magical conjurations do not feel the pain. In fact, they do not feel anything at all."
"Where are you going with this?"
"No one can bear such pain for long," Elizabeth-Maria declared. "Vampires cannot deny their essence and go back to being normal people, even for a minute. Vampires are not like the zombies raised by Haitian masters. They can feel pain. But their bodies are dead, and dead flesh has no defense against the pain."
"How long ago were you called to this world?" I asked, having caught a sense of sorrow flickering in the succubus's voice.
"It doesn't matter!" she snapped back in annoyance, waving it off. I put my eyelids together, shutting in the fell light glowing up out of my eyes. "It doesn't matter, Leo. The most important thing is that not a single vampire would come to New Babylon out of good will. It's akin to the most intricate torture. Only threat of death could make them suffer it."
"But still, where might I find them?"
"In Transylvania, Romania, or Zuid-India. Among the Egyptians or the Aztecs. In Cuba or the African Colonies. In the Siberian taiga, the mountains of Afghanistan or the endless Asian steppe. Anywhere but here. Not in big cities. Even in the provinces, t
he burning is too strong..."
But I was still being haunted by the bloodless body of my uncle's servant girl with two precise wounds on her neck, so I kept insisting:
"Where do you think I could find a vampire in New Babylon?"
Elizabeth-Maria looked in reply with unhidden doubt, then with a careless look shrugged her shoulders, clearly having lost all interest in the conversation:
"The bottom of a hole. The deeper the better. If one really did come to New Babylon, it would be in a leaden sarcophagus somewhere in the catacombs beyond the city."
"A sarcophagus?" I asked in surprise. "And why lead exactly?"
"If you come across a vampire, ask. Perhaps you’ll even get an answer," the girl said with a detached smirk, now thinking about something else entirely. "What are your plans for tonight?" she suddenly inquired, twirling a lock of her red hair around her finger.
"I'm going to the circus," I said, standing from the table and removing the kerchief I’d stuffed into my shirt neck to catch dripping jam. "What of it?"
"I never took you for a circus aficionado."
And that was an accurate assessment; I didn't like the circus. Neither the circus, nor circus people.
Devil! If I really thought about it, there weren't many people on the planet, toward whom I didn't experience a certain antipathy.
Was I a misanthrope? No, more like a clinical introvert.
"A friend asked me to go with him," I explained. And when she came out after me into the entryway, in my turn, I inquired: "And the burning, what causes it?"
"The million-franc question!" the girl laughed, taking a little brush and starting to dust the shelves. "No one is sure, but in the time of the fallen, it wasn't around. Back then, the whole world belonged to us, and us alone."
"Yeah, yeah," I chuckled, going outside without a cloak or even a jacket.
The weather put a smile on my face. There wasn't even a trace of yesterday's tempest remaining. The sky was clear, though far off on the horizon there were clumpy, foreboding cumulus clouds gathering.
I started down from the porch and immediately was reminded by the discomfort in my leg that it was sprained. And even though it wasn't bothering me so bad today, it still seemed reasonable to go back home for Alexander Dyak's cane.
