The Fallen (The Sublime Electricity Book #3)

by Pavel Kornev

  I closed my eyes and tried to piece together the chain of events that had led me to the boot-maker's dusty old shack. There really was a lot to consider.

  The assassination attempt and the burning of the dirigible. The poison in my lemonade and the runaway bartender. The scuffle in the back yard of the cabaret and the photographer strangled the next day. And then here, in New Babylon – the attack of the gang of thugees, which is how the search for the runaway Indian had ended.

  Were these all just mere coincidences or all beads strung onto the same thread?

  But how could I have attracted the ire of the Kali worshippers? And what did all that have to do with the self-appointed priestess Liliana Montague?

  I had no answers to these questions.

  The more the craftsman worked, the more my skin burned. I found it utterly impossible to concentrate. Just then, the front door flew open with a creak.

  "Not now!" Sergei Kravets shouted, and a burly, snouted man obediently ducked back outside.

  Neither one of the two noticed the leprechaun sneak inside. The pipsqueak immediately ducked under the bench, then appeared on top of the dresser, where he started observing the tattoo artist's work with interest. He was fidgeting in place, trying to get a better look at the design so frantically that he nearly fell several times.

  Sometime later, Kravets exhaled loudly, wiped the sweat from his face and suggested:

  "Maybe we leave the rest for tomorrow?"

  "No!" I cut him off.

  "Then you can’t be mad," the craftsman cringed, getting a corked bottle of wine from under the table, uncorking it and taking a sip right from the bottle.

  "It won't affect the work?"

  "You insult me, Leo! I personally guarantee the quality! What harm could wine possibly do? I'm just whetting my whistle."

  And in fact, when the bottle was empty a few hours later, the movements of the old tattoo artist hadn't lost the slightest degree of precision. He was still poking measuredly and accurately, recreating the drawing from the yellowed sheet lying before him on the table. On the sheet was Saint George on a rearing horse striking a fearsome dragon with a spear. Below, there went a bracelet of interlaced crosses of various kinds.

  Near the end, my arm was burning with fire. My thoughts were confused. Tears were streaming from my eyes. The long sit was making my back sore. I wanted unbearably to get to my feet and stretch.

  "Ooh, finally!" Sergei Kravets exhaled loudly and went back to the wash basin to clean up. "I'm exhausted!" he complained, massaging his swollen and reddened eyes, but as soon as I got up from the chair, he demanded: "Hey now, stop! I need to dress your arm."

  "Nonsense, I heal like a dog," I waved it off, glancing at the reddened and swollen skin and winced. It really looked quite nasty.

  The tattoo artist unraveled a roll of gauze and, after wetting it with a healing balm, carefully wrapped my biceps and forearm. When the wet fabric was laid on my skin, I very quickly stopped itching and burning.

  "If it starts getting inflamed, you know what to do," Kravets said near the end, bidding me farewell.

  "I do," I nodded.

  I didn't stick my swollen arm into the sleeve of the shirt, simply cut it off and covered it over with the duster.

  "Are we even?" asked the old tattoo-artist, getting a second bottle of wine from a drawer. The opener squeezed in his hand was a clear hint that the craftsman wouldn't accept any other answer.

  "You'll never see me again," I promised and went outside, but as soon as the door of his workshop clapped shut, a strong jab flew in below my back.

  "He-ey!" the leprechaun yelled, jumping out after me. He cartwheeled down the paving stones and ducked down the closest alley.

  I cursed him and walked on. What entertained the tiresome pipsqueak remained a mystery to me.

  I returned to the shop Mechanisms and Rarities near twilight – I'd sat in the tattoo artist's workshop all day, only leaving around nine. The front door of the shop was locked. I had to go around back.

  Alexander Dyak let me inside and asked in agitation:

  "Is everything alright?"

  "Everything is just wonderful," I smiled in reply, "as long as you didn't forget to pick up my suits."

  "Don't you dare doubt it," said the inventor, pointing to three voluminous paper bags sitting next to the suitcase he'd given me.

  I returned the duster to the shop owner, unwound the damp gauze from my arm and stood at the mirror. I really did heal just like a stray dog. The swelling was already going down, the redness was gone. Saint George was stabbing the dragon with a spear. His warlike steed was trampling the frightening reptile with its hooves. The dragon was winding around the saint's bicep with a scaly tail. You could make out each scale, each link of the chain mail, every rivet in the horse and rider's armor.

  The second tattoo, a bracelet of various cross designs, was a bit below my elbow. Its style, contrary to the first, was quite rough and haphazard. I suppose that it was meant to be that way, as it was very reminiscent of the style of the eight-pointed star on my chest and chain on my neck.

  After throwing the gauze into the trash can, I got out of the torn shirt, pants and dirty socks. In one of the bags, I discovered several new shirts and clean undergarments. I got a light-colored traveling suit from another. I got dressed, clipped my holster to the belt and, after distributing my Cerberus, rounds, knife and wallet in my pockets, stood before a mirror.

  What I saw left me completely and totally satisfied. Nothing was bulging out anywhere. There were no holes and no jutting. A casual observer would never notice that there was a decently large pistol hidden under my jacket.

  After adjusting the vest, I called the inventor over:

  "Alexander!"

  "Yes, Leopold Borisovich?" the shop owner walked into the workshop and showed me his raised thumb. "You look excellent! Like a new man!"

  "I hope you haven't had a change of mind on our trip to the hot springs?"

  "No, come now! I've already purchased tickets. I'm going tomorrow. Recently, I've been working on a portable version of the electromagnetic wave transmitter, so there won't be any complications with the move."

  "Take care."

  "We will see one another in Montecalida, though, right?"

  "Naturally!" I lied with a careless smile. "I'll be over in a few days. I'll find you."

  "Until next time!"

  "Until next time!"

  I bid farewell to the inventor and went out the door with a light heart. The mountain air would surely be to the old man's benefit. And, of course, what difference would it make if he spent his vacation working on his inventions, or watching over me? Not one bit, I swear it...

  I walked across Leonardo-da-Vinci-Platz, catching interested glances in my direction and experiencing a certain degree of pleasure at that. But it would have looked awkward for such a refined young gentleman as myself to walk down the streets loaded down with a suitcase and massive bags, so I caught a cab and made my way to the hotel as comfortably as possible.

  By evening, the weather had gone foul. The sky was stretched over with black clouds that crawled in from the ocean. It grew dark abruptly, but the air remained steamy. Frequent, sharp gusts of wind brought waves of dust down the sidewalk. It started to thunder

  The cabby left me right at the Benjamin Franklin. I paid up with him and hurried to get out of the dust devil and into the hotel foyer. I walked up to the receptionist, and he had to exert a certain effort in order to recognize me as a guest from earlier.

  "Mr. Shatunov!" he faded into a smile. "Will you also be checking out?"

  I lowered my gaze to a traveling bag in his hand, but immediately shuddered.

  "What do you mean, 'also?'"

  "Miss Montague asked to check out and ordered a taxi to the train station. Didn't you know?"

  "It's all so unexpected," I muttered in vexation. "Is she still here?"

  The receptionist turned to a cabinet divided into little square compart
ments and confirmed:

  "The lady is still in possession of her key."

  I nodded and clarified without particular hope:

  "You wouldn't happen to know what might have caused her change of plans, would you?"

  "I cannot say," the receptionist answered, but still threw out: "Perhaps it’s to do with some correspondence."

  "Correspondence?"

  "Yes, correspondence."

  "My thanks!" I nodded and hurried to the elevator. I went up to the fourth floor and saw that there were several newspapers before my door, but none in front of Lily’s.

  Correspondence? Hm...

  After unlocking my room, I went inside and started studying the papers.

  I immediately set the Stock-Exchange Bulletin aside, Liliana was most likely not following the quote prices for valuable shares. I just took the Capital Times and immediately noted the lead article. "Raid on the Kali Stranglers!" read the article's headline. In the text, it said that, this morning, the metropolitan police had killed six cultists, all of whom were wanted criminals. Between them, there were no less than a dozen unsolved murders. A grainy photograph depicted a body covered with a sheet. I had no trouble recognizing it. And the police man next to the body was also familiar; Senior Inspector Moran had fallen into the photographer's frame.

  I loosened my neckerchief and collapsed heavily in a chair.

  "Round casings!" it dawned on me. "You dolt, you left round casings in the alley!"

  And the round casings have fingerprints on them. As soon as the criminal investigators took the fingerprints and checked them against the database, they would declare a search for me, a fact that surely would not go unnoticed by the Imperial Secret Service. And although the people surrounding the heiress to the throne must have thought that my frigid corpse had been stolen from the hospital after the operation, they would now discover the truth and I would become a wanted man.

  Yes, my appearance had changed a great deal, and I had a passport under a different name but, even still, hiding from the all-seeing eye of the law would be quite the undertaking. The faster I left Atlantis, the better.

  Should I head for the continent today, even? It would be nice but, alas, not an option.

  The police investigation had enough time to check the index for the fingerprints from the casings and the first thing they would do to try and find me would be checking the ports, both air and sea. The path to the continent was closed to me. The risk of being caught was too high.

  And what to do?

  In contemplation, I looked at the door of the adjoining room and stroked the bridge of my nose.

  Liliana had decided to return home after reading the newspaper article and, now, that circumstance played into my hand. In all the hustle and bustle of the Central Train Station, a young couple traveling to the hot springs wouldn't attract the attention of any constables. I'd get out of town no problem. And there was no reason I had to get out of the train in Montecalida: the train line crossed the whole of Atlantis; I could simply ride to the west coast, then get to the New World from there.

  You know, I think that's what I'll do.

  I nodded, got up from the chair and knocked decisively on my neighbor's door.

  "Lily!" I called her. "It's Leo! May I come in?"

  "It's open!" I heard in reply.

  I turned the handle and glanced into the neighboring room. There was a towering stack of cardboard boxes and paper bags at the door. Liliana had already gotten ready and was nervously tousling a satin scarf. Her prim little nose was generously powdered, but the makeup couldn't hide her swollen eyes, and Liliana rushed to cover her face with a veiled hat.

  "I've heard you're leaving..." I noted neutrally.

  "I'm going home," she confirmed.

  "So unexpectedly?"

  "Leo!" Liliana sighed heavily. "I implore you not to ask about it, alright?"

  "Is everything okay?"

  "Everything will be fine."

  "I don't doubt it," I chuckled. "But the Marquess asked me to look after you."

  "I have no need for a nanny! And I already sent a telegram. I'll be expected at the train station," Lily shot out abruptly and immediately gave a sniffle. "Forgive me, Leo. I'm not myself today."

  "I'll return with you."

  "Are you serious?" she asked in surprise. "But you have business!"

  I threw up my hands and spun in place, showing her my new suit.

  "Well, how do you like the fruits of my labor?"

  "Leo, you're impossible!" Lily laughed involuntarily.

  "That's rich coming from you! Your room is half full of new purchases!"

  "Ladies are allowed to do that!" Liliana announced, walking up and adjusting the lapel of my jacket. "A good cut, and the fabric is excellent," she rolled out her verdict.

  At that moment, a knock came to the door: it was the porter. He started loading boxes and bags but was not capable of fitting it all on the cart. I took the remainder.

  "You really don't have to!" Lily tried to stop me.

  "Nonsense!"

  We left our keys with the bellboy and went down into the foyer. Liliana wrote out a check. I got change from the receptionist and retrieved our passports.

  Outside, it had finally grown dark. A little drizzle had started in. The cabby raised the top of the carriage and helped the porter lash down the baggage. Lily and I stood under the awning.

  "What time does the train leave?" I glanced at my timepiece. "I still need to buy a ticket."

  "Oh, first class I hope?" the girl joked.

  "Don't you doubt it," I smiled in reply and extended a hand. "Please..."

  We sat on the stretched leather seats. The cabby shook the reins and the carriage rolled down the causeway, bouncing on the uneven paving stones. There weren't many people outside. The approaching inclement weather had driven everyone back to their homes. There was no way any people tracking me could go unnoticed. But I didn't see anyone suspicious, no matter how much I spun in place, looking back.

  At the square before the train station, we entrusted a porter to load all the baggage onto a creaking cart, ourselves running to the main building, desperate to take shelter from the sharp gusts of wind. A waterspout caught us right at the entrance regardless and tore off Lily's hat, tousling her black locks, but I managed to grab it in midair and return the headwear to its owner.

  As soon as the porter rolled the cart under the awning, it was as if the windows of heaven opened, and a vigorous summer rain poured down onto the earth. The windows of the building were suddenly covered in bubbles and streaks. The gutters were overflowing and muddy streams were flowing right down the road. In an instant, the square was transformed into a slough. There were large bubbles swelling and breaking on it. In the gray sheet of rain, I could see the occasional flash of lightning, followed shortly by distant peals of thunder – most of the lightning passed us by. The downpour didn't last long though; as soon as I'd straightened out a ticket, it had already begun to quiet down. A mere moment later, the wind had completely carried away the dark clouds and the sky was clear.

  "Unbelievable luck!" Lily laughed.

  It was as if the rain washed away her bad mood, and now, there was a light smile that wouldn't leave her face. Perhaps I was being overconfident, but it seemed that was down to me. For some reason, I wanted to think that was true.

  Our train was sitting at the platform under the high dome, but still without an engine, which was over on a side track maneuvering into position. We passed the attentive watchman with no problem and walked into the Pullman car, which was even more luxurious than the one that had brought us to the capital. Liliana immediately ran off to check her baggage. Meanwhile, I put my suitcase under my feet and fell down on the couch with a blissful sigh. It was soft and devilishly comfortable.

  The passengers were just arriving. The majority of them were soaked to the threads from the sudden downpour. None of them meant anything to me.

  Tired of waiting for Lily, I lied
back in the soft chair and tried to doze off, but sleep just wouldn't come. The pain gradually returned – it was akin to the one that twisted the joints of my left arm. My elbow and wrist started hurting. It became hard to breathe. I'm not sure why, but my neck started to burn right where the slip-knot around it had been.

  I shuddered nervously and sat up straight. They weren't serving drinks, so I walked up to the concessions myself and poured a glass of soda water. When I'd finished it and returned to my seat, Lily finally showed up. To my great surprise, she had changed clothing somewhere, out of her traveling skirt, blouse and coat and into a loose cut dress.

  "You're just gonna sit here like that?" she asked, her hands on her hips.

  I winced in vexation.

  "What are my options?"

  "We'll be travelling all night. I bought a sleeper room. Let's go. There’s easily enough room for the both of us."

  Not wanting to continue the conversation with strangers around, I followed after her, but didn't go into the small chamber with a spacious two-person bed, just looked inside and shook my head.

  "I don't think it'll be too comfortable."

  "Come off it, Leo!" Lily waved it off light-heartedly. "After all, daddy did ask you to look after me, right?"

  "I'm afraid he wouldn't approve of this."

  "What do you mean 'this?'" Liliana squinted.

  "I mean..." I faltered. "I mean, I don't know..."

  "Men! Just blather on the brain and nothing but!" Lily rolled her eyes. "Why do you want to spend all night in the common room being shaken about?"

  I looked over the car. Its quiet space was slightly humming with the voices of other travelers. I shook my head and went for my bag.

  "And another thing," Lily smiled, closing the door behind me. "Why didn't you say anything about my dress? Don't you like it?"

  "It isn't the dress I should praise, but your taste," I complimented her, loosening my neckerchief and hanging my jacket on the back of the chair. I removed my dark glasses, massaged my temples and asked: "Would you object to me lying down for a bit?"