The Illustrious (The Sublime Electricity Book #1)

by Pavel Kornev

  "They will pay for this," Levinson said suddenly. "No matter who did it, they will pay..."

  With a trembling hand, I took a tin of sugar drops from my pocket, tossed a mint candy into my mouth and noted pointedly:

  "The key word here is 'who.'"

  "What do you mean, Leopold?" The banker grew surprised.

  I shrugged my shoulders, collecting my thoughts, then admitted honestly:

  "I am not at all sure that the detectives will pick up the trail."

  "Why not?" He grew surprised.

  "Did you see the weapons those criminals had?" I snorted, beginning to enumerate them: "Flamethrower, Gatling gun, hand-held mortar! And also an armored car! There are army divisions that aren't equipped that well!"

  Isaac Levinson measured me up with his careful gaze and clarified:

  "You don't think they'll be found?"

  "I know my colleagues," I chuckled. "You did hear about the tunnels being dug under your bank, right? Was anyone arrested after that? No? There you have it, then."

  The banker took out a rumpled kerchief and began wiping down his soot-schmutzed face.

  "And you?" he asked carefully a bit later. "You, Mr. Orso. Could you find them?"

  "Perhaps," I answered just as cautiously.

  "Then, do it!" Levinson demanded. He spent some time in silence and added: "Find them and kill them. Money is no object."

  In reply to his offer, I just shook my head:

  "Isaac, we work in an era of division of labor. I am prepared to take up the search for the robbers. You will have to deal with the rest on your own."

  He nodded several times, thinking over my words and asked:

  "Would five hundred francs do as an advance?"

  "That would be more than enough," I answered, not trying to mess around with the price. "More than..."

  A HALF-HOUR LATER, I was standing on the edge of Euler bridge rubbing my chin in thought and looking into the troubled waters of the Yarden. The advance was searing my conscious with a hot poker. I was in possession of five brand-new hundred-franc notes that any decent person would return to the banker without the slightest delay.

  I had always supposed myself a person of the highest order of decency, which is why I was now standing in deep contemplation at the very edge of the bridge, stroking my chin and looking down. I didn't even have to lean over the railing. It had been pulled off by the armored car in its attempts to evade pursuit. It was pulled off, fell down and sunk to the bottom like a stone. According to eyewitness reports, no one had gotten out of the car either.

  How could I possibly earn a check from this?

  While I stood there, gazing unthinkingly at the river, a police carriage rolled up to the fence. Next to the driver, there was a red-mustached yellow-eyed detective sitting on the driver box with sergeant detective patches on his uniform.

  I supposed that it was the inspector arriving, but just then the doors of the carriage flung open and the head of the CID stepped out, Maurice LeBrun in the flesh. What was more, he was accompanied by Bastian Moran!

  Wearing a cloak with a white neck-scarf tied on carelessly, he wasn't very reminiscent of a police inspector, but his artificial serenity still inspired fear somewhat more than the rage-reddened bull-dog face of LeBrun.

  Devil! – and so I fainted.

  Devil! Devil! Devil!

  Without this, I was already in Department Three's field of view for my potential involvement in the death of Robert White, who had been torn to pieces in the Judean Quarter, and now I was spotted at a second attempt to rob the Witstein Banking House! Senior Inspector Moran would be quite unlikely to consider this a simple coincidence. And if he tried to get a search warrant for my estate, I would be done for. The glass jar with the heart of a fallen one inside would be reason enough to accuse me of anti-scientific activities.

  Devil, what made me drag that thing home!

  I felt waves of panic rolling over me, but forced myself to calm down. Even with an order to search my family estate, it wouldn't be that easy. Not every illustrious person has the wherewithal to go inside a cursed mansion. And for normal people, even setting one foot on my property was a death sentence. The Diabolic Plague was no joke.

  And I calmed down. But my tranquility didn't last long.

  "What the devil is this man doing at the crime scene? He shouldn’t be here!" The head of the CID shouted out on his way to the sentry constable.

  He just cluelessly batted his eyes; then LeBrun turned around and flew directly at me with the single-minded determination of a torpedo.

  I decided that he would probably grab me, persona-non-grata that I was, by my chest and throw me from the bridge, but I didn't move away from the gap in the fence. Instead, I got out the letter of attorney signed by Isaac Levinson.

  "Mr. LeBrun!" I extended it to my boss. "In this investigation, I will be representing the injured party, the Witstein Banking House."

  "What the devil?" LeBrun bellowed, ripping the paper from me and immersing himself in reading. "This is ridiculous!" he gasped a few seconds later. "Constable, how'd your head get so swelled up?!"

  "In that I have been suspended," I reminded him, "there is no conflict of interest."

  The head of Criminal Investigations measured me up with an unkind gaze and turned to Bastian Moran, who was smoking in total calm near the self-propelled carriage. He took one last drag of his cigarette and, with a flick, sent the butt into the troubled waters of the Yarden.

  "Maurice, he has every right to be here," the senior inspector warned his fuming colleague.

  "I don't like it!" the head of the CID declared in annoyance, returning the letter of attorney and demanding: "Constable, get out of here immediately!"

  "Maurice!" Bastian Moran tried to persuade him. "We don't need complications with Judean society, now do we?"

  The last thing I wanted was to be caught between hammer and anvil, so I hurried to disarm the situation.

  "Excuse me, but there is no longer any need for my presence," I assured the upper leadership and gradually moved away from the gap in the fence.

  "Is that so?" Senior Inspector Moran suddenly smiled. "And what is your verdict, detective constable?"

  I shrugged my shoulders, but still gave voice to the obvious scenario in my mind:

  "The robbers lost control of their vehicle when trying to evade police pursuit, went through the fence on the bridge and fell into the water."

  "That sounds about right," Moran smiled. "Shall we pack it in then?"

  "Not yet," I replied, gathering the bravery to oppose my senior in title. "We still have to find their accomplices and where they got the arms from. Other than that, we must recover the armored car and make an inventory of everything that was stolen. The bank manager insists that I be present for that, as well."

  "Go!" Maurice LeBrun waved it off. "We will inform the bank of the precise time the armored car will be raised!"

  "Thank you," I nodded and turned my gaze to Bastian Moran. "Is that all, senior inspector?"

  "I suppose, constable, that you should first answer the investigator's questions," he said, shaking his head. "Based on your appearance, it seems you were present for the robbery, right?"

  I tossed my gaze over my hopelessly soiled suit and smiled, showing that I had appreciated the inspector's joke.

  "The bank manager and I were out for negotiations with my Uncle, the Count Kósice, but by the time of the attack, we had already returned to town and were in the bank."

  Senior Inspector Moran took out a pack of Chesterfields, slid a cigarette from it, then waved his hands at a red-mustached detective sergeant:

  "Interrogate the constable!"

  "Behind the police line!" LeBrun added, turning to his colleague and reproaching him: "Bastian, your genius idea of leaving an ambush party at the bank has deprived us of three excellent men!"

  "Maurice!" the Department Three official smiled softly. "The idea, as you can see, completely and totally justified itse
lf. Where we dropped the ball was in the execution. What would it have cost us to have stationed two armored cars there?"

  "And who was it harping on about secrecy?"

  I wasn't able to hear the senior inspector's answer, but I had enough to understand everything.

  Bastian Moran had foreseen the bank robbery.

  Curses! This story smelled worse than I originally imagined!

  6

  I RETURNED HOME long after midnight. The investigator had managed, in the most natural fashion, to drink up all my blood, no question of vampires! And though he brought me to the Newton-Markt in a service carriage, I'd had to find my own way back home. In other words, I went on foot.

  I walked up onto the porch of my manor, limping, yet having little idea of how tired my legs were. As soon as I opened the front door, I was caught by the unusual aroma of cooking. I remembered the dinner I had been promised and winced in shame, but still went into the dining hall, lit by only a pair of candelabras, their candles burned down a fair amount. The table in the middle of the room was set for two, and Elizabeth-Maria was sitting at the head.

  The girl gave me a salute with a glass of red wine and asked me pointedly:

  "You know something, Leopold? I'm starting to get the impression that you're avoiding me."

  "And what if I am?" I frowned, still standing in the doorway. "What of it?"

  "That would be very impolite," Elizabeth-Maria reproached me, and suddenly raised her voice as if she had the right to give orders here. "Theodor!" she called.

  The butler walked into the hall through the second door, set down a dish and removed its top so gracefully that it looked like he had done nothing but set tables his whole life.

  "I'll go get myself in order," I told the girl.

  "Leopold!" she objected. "Dinner is getting cold!"

  "Do you seriously think I can sit at the dinner table looking like this?"

  "Leopold!"

  There was a metallic ring in the succubus's voice, telling me that it was easier to try her cooking than explain why I didn't want to. Nevertheless, was I a man of my word, or not? To start, I went off to wash up and change clothes, then returned to the table, placed my napkin in my lap and started poking around in the incomprehensible victuals with my fork. I stabbed cautiously into a piece of meat, sent it down my throat and suddenly discovered that its subtle, picante flavor was actually quite nice.

  "I never would have thought the cooking was so nice in the underworld," I generously complimented, chewing a second piece.

  "Oh, Leopold!" Elizabeth-Maria rolled her eyes. "You have no idea of the lofty heights achieved by our culinary arts, especially considering the poor selection of products!"

  Even if the girl was seriously counting on driving away my appetite, she didn't manage. I washed the spicy meat down with a gulp of water and set about shoveling down my dinner even more forcefully than before.

  "Aren't you hungry?" I asked the succubus, who hadn't eaten a single morsel, instead just drinking wine.

  "I got full while cooking," she answered.

  "So this is all for me?"

  "Just for you, my dear Leopold," Elizabeth-Maria confirmed. "That must flatter you. Not many get the chance to enjoy the work of chefs such as myself."

  I nodded.

  "We've never had much luck with cooks," I smiled, pushing away my half-emptied plate. "Our second to last one had to be fired over his penchant for alcohol. And the last one simply disappeared with all our silver tableware."

  "Is that so?" the girl laughed uncontrollably and turned to the butler who'd just poured her more wine: "Theodor, how could this be? I'd have thought you'd have pecked that villain to death."

  My servant didn't answer right away. He held a pause, collecting his thoughts and started from afar:

  "My ancestors have served the Kósice family for many generations. I have never had another master, and I could not even imagine that someone might not appreciate the stroke of luck it is to work here."

  Elizabeth-Maria thoughtfully raised her red eyebrow:

  "You're telling me that even death couldn't waver your loyalty?"

  "Oh, mademoiselle!" the butler allowed himself a patronizing smile. "A dead man finds it quite simple to remain loyal. Worldly temptations and trials are no longer an impediment."

  "Surprising permanence," the girl shook her head and turned her attention to me. "Leopold, don’t you like it? You're not eating very much."

  "I'm not hungry," I answered and asked: "What is it, by the way? I can't figure it out."

  "It's heart," Elizabeth-Maria told me with a sweet smile. "In redcurrant sauce. And the main course will be chicken liver roasted with red pepper, tomato, basil and parsley."

  "Organ meat," I screwed up my face, though I wasn't actually given to particular squeamishness. Life had taught me not to be.

  "Dear, you yourself accused me of spending too much!" the girl reminded me. "Organ meat is cheap and nutritious!"

  "The spices were probably more expensive than the meat!"

  "Meat without spices is like steak without blood," Elizabeth-Maria shook her head and, to make sure nothing remained unsaid, thought it necessary to explain herself. "It's just not palatable!" she announced, getting up from the table and going into the guest room.

  Theodor gathered the plates and asked:

  "Would you like the main course now, or dessert?"

  "Dessert," I decided. "And serve it in my bedroom. And also, light the boiler. I'd like to take a bath."

  "As you say, Viscount."

  The butler brought the dirty dishes to the kitchen, while I followed after Elizabeth-Maria. I took one step into the guest room and froze like I was entombed. I suddenly found myself face-to-face with a sharp saber taken down from the wall.

  "Defend!" the girl said, but immediately retreated and turned away, spinning the blade in a tried-and-true motion. I heard the buzzing of a strip of air being split open by the finely-honed steel.

  "Drop it," I asked her.

  Elizabeth-Maria glanced at me with an unhidden smirk, but still returned the saber to its place above the fireplace.

  "Do you not fence?" she asked.

  "No."

  "And why's that?"

  "If you let your opponent get to within slashing distance, you've wasted the last moments of your life for nothing. That's what my father always said."

  "And you agree with him?"

  I nodded:

  "Without reservation."

  "Your good judgment is one in a million."

  "It's in my blood," I shrugged my shoulders, thanking the girl once again for the wonderful dinner. I went up to my bedroom where Theodor was already bringing a saucer of tea and a little basket of biscuits.

  But I wasn't able to drink my tea in peace: as soon as I had taken off my neckerchief, Elizabeth-Maria slipped into the door.

  "You smell of death," she stated, thoughtfully twirling a red lock of hair around her finger.

  "It's smoke," I corrected the girl. "I smell of smoke."

  "No," she laughed uncontrollably, "it's death."

  "Please, leave me!"

  "Leo," Elizabeth-Maria sighed, taking a seat on the bed, "I would do so gladly, but you're the one holding me up here, not the other way around."

  "Balderdash!" I waved it off. "You could go to hell right now for all I care!"

  "Your words are nothing but empty trembling in the air. What is important is your true desires. After all, it was no accident that you were so eager for the chance to have your very own succubus! In fact, you do not want to let me go. You thirst for something else entirely. So go and reap the fruits of your labor," Elizabeth-Maria led her hand over her thigh, "maybe one day you'll have enough of me..."

  Desire rolled up in a hot wave, but I didn't move from my place. Even the thought of doing so didn't strike me. From under the mask of the wonderful girl created by my imagination, out stepped an unmistakably demonic countenance with eyes that burned with the fires
of hell and a mouth overcrowded with tiny sharp teeth.

  If I listened closely, I could hear her sharp claws scratching against the silk fabric of her dress. If I inhaled through my nose, it smelled of sulfur.

  "Come now, Leo! Come to me!" The girl struck an even more tempting pose and licked her upper lip with her split-end tongue. "After all, this is what you want! Your shyness prevented you from admitting your love, but you have no reason whatsoever to be shy around me. You are my lord and sovereign! You can do whatever you desire to me! After all, isn't that what you wanted?"

  "No," I answered quietly, pouring myself some tea and taking a biscuit from the little basket. I took a bite, held it for a bit, enjoying the flavor and poured myself some of the hot bitter beverage. "I realize perfectly that a large part of you is in my own head. And the rest is a slimy, cold beast who I would never share a bed with, even under pain of death."

  Elizabeth-Maria leaned her head on her hand and looked at me with unhidden interest. The crimson shadows in her eyes began to disperse slightly.

  "So my attention doesn't flatter you at all?" the girl asked.

  I pointed to the door.

  The succubus laughed gruffly and got up onto the bed.

  "Sooner or later, I will have your soul," she told me.

  "Why won't you just leave me in peace?"

  "I'm afraid, little boy, that will not be possible." Elizabeth-Maria pretended that she was going to strike me on the cheek, but she retreated before finishing the motion. "We are bound by an arrangement and your soul is like a battered dingy: it is rocking on the waves, stopping my descent to the depths."

  "Excellent metaphor," I remarked, praising the succubus's imagery.

  "But, do you know, Leo, that there are so many holes in your soul that it will soon sink to the bottom and drag me down with it? To the very bottom and even further: directly to the underworld."