The Illustrious (The Sublime Electricity Book #1)

by Pavel Kornev

  Unfortunately, there were no high-caliber rifles stored in the warehouse.

  Eventually, I decided on a box of semi-automatic K63 Mausers. But on my way back to the armored car, I took note of a few boxes not covered with the same thick layer of dust as all the others. On their unpainted boards, I could clearly make out a faded logo. It was the very same lightning rune I'd seen earlier, all black and angular.

  I opened the one nearest me and inside, I found a tube with a handle, trigger and a locking device in the middle; on one side, it had a folding sight. The other side ended in a trumpet bell. In the same place, there was a mask with thick leather and glass eye-pieces and an awkwardly tacked-on respirator. In the second box, two lengthened shells were adorned with iron blade-stabilizers. These rounds were reminiscent of miniaturized versions of the bombs thrown from dirigibles, but they also had something in them of the charges for field mortars.

  A few years ago, in reports from the fronts of the Third Opium War, messages seeped out that a Russian inventor had come up with some kind of bomb launcher. Perhaps this was it.

  But how did such a modern weapon end up here?

  I skimmed a typed-up manual and thoughtfully prodded the launch-tube box with the tip of my boot. Then I got up and pulled it over to the armored car. I dragged it up the boards into the car, sending the box of rounds the same way. Finally, after a heavy sigh, I took a seat on the lowest step of the stairs.

  When my head had started spinning less, I got up to my feet and returned to the second floor to find the body of the old man who had been torturing me; even though corpses tended to be the quiet type, they could sometimes be made to give up clues.

  Trying not to step in blood, I bowed down over the dead body and rooted through his pockets, but I was not able to find a wallet or documents of any kind. Then, with my pocketknife, I snipped the tendons of his broken right arm and cut the shred of skin holding it on. I then wrapped his amputated forearm in a piece of canvas, gathered the police protocols scattered around the room and went down into the courtyard.

  I first took a look out the gate to make sure there still was no one nearby, then I raised the bar on the gates, flung them open and climbed into the cabin of the armored car.

  I’d learned how to drive a self-propelled carriage in police training, but it had been a few years since I'd actually sat behind the wheel of one. I had to strain my memory a fair amount to remember the steps to start it in the right order.

  First ignition, then it feeds the engine granulated TNT. Then reverse...

  The armored car gave an unexpected, abrupt jerk. I was thrown forward onto the steering wheel. Only at the very last moment did I come to enough to avoid a collision with the gates. My breathing slowed down. I slightly pressed my boot sole down on the gas pedal, taking the self-propelled carriage out of the carriage house in several stages. It immediately became clear that I couldn't see a thing through the slits in the front armored sheet. I threw it back, but my view didn't get especially better. The windshield had torrential rain pouring down on it, anyway. Standing on the running board, I took a look around; everything I could see was clear, though I couldn't see far in the hazy gray rain.

  They'd taken me out of the city! Come to think of it, though, that was actually for the best...

  Leaving the engine in idle, I ran back to the warehouse, dragged a canister of kerosene out from under the workbench and left a trail of flammable liquid going into the depths of the building. There, I tipped the container on its side and hurried to the exit. The flames scratched at the doors, then rushed outside in a huge burst.

  Sitting behind the wheel, I slammed my foot down too hard on the gas pedal, evidence of my lack of practice, and the armored car jumped forward abruptly, passed the gates and almost flew into a ditch. Losing traction in the deep mud, the self-propelled carriage jerked up back onto the road. As soon as it started gaining a little speed, a deafening explosion blasted out behind me! The warehouse roof lifted off. The first floor collapsed into burning wood and pieces of brick. A second explosion went off after that, and all that remained of the arsenal were smoking ruins.

  "This way, it won't be easy for my kidnappers to tell if I was in there," I decided, then remembered the stolen armored car and grew upset at my own lack of foresight.

  But was I really going to return to the city in such weather on foot?

  I'd be lucky to get there in the carriage...

  5

  I DROVE THE ARMORED CAR into my carriage-house.

  A plague-ridden estate is not a place you'd expect to be searched; curses do come with certain advantages, after all.

  Once inside, I asked my butler to bring a canvas package down to the icehouse, and went into the guest room where I could hear a strange gnashing sound.

  As it turned out, Elizabeth-Maria was sitting in an armchair sharpening the blade of the saber in measured movements. The succubus didn't even look up at me.

  With my tight fingers, I unbuttoned my pea-coat and handed it to Theodor, who was back from the icehouse. I also handed him my wet derby cap.

  "Light the water heater in the bathroom. I also need some burn cream," I warned my butler before he left.

  "You spent another night away from home," Elizabeth-Maria stated in an accusatory tone, not stopping what she was doing for even a moment. Shing-shing, shing-shing.

  "I did," I confirmed.

  "And you missed lunch."

  "I did."

  "If I don't know where to look for you, I cannot help."

  Help? The succubus wanted to help me?

  I almost laughed out loud.

  "Where's all this concern for my wellbeing coming from all of a sudden?" I asked, leaning on the doorframe. "Wouldn't my untimely end be great for you?"

  The succubus raised her head, and for a moment, her pretty face gave way to a vision of a creature not of this world.

  "Your death is not in my best interest," Elizabeth-Maria declared and, seeing my disbelief, clarified: "Right now."

  "Your claws aren't deep enough in yet?"

  "That's right," the girl confirmed. "Leo, your premature end would upset us both, so I ask you to keep me informed of your plans for the day."

  "Without fail," I laughed and pointed to the living flowers in a vase. "You went to the city in this weather?"

  "Food doesn't just come here on its own, you know."

  "We could have managed."

  "Not at all," Elizabeth-Maria assured me, "proper nutrition is the basis of good health." She set the whetstone aside and asked: "Will you tell me where you disappeared to all night?"

  "The safest place on earth: the Newton-Markt."

  "Problems with colleagues?"

  "Nothing serious," I answered, leaning away from the doorframe. "What's wrong with the saber?"

  Elizabeth-Maria snorted indignantly:

  "Weapons need to be cared for, Leo! It was in a simply horrible state!"

  I nodded, but still didn't consider her reason sufficient for the difficult task she was undertaking.

  "What else?"

  "Your leprechaun!" The girl roared out, her eyes burning with an evil flame. "He's darting around the house, poking his nose around, watching me in the bathroom, stealing wine! It's driving me crazy! I'm gonna catch him and cut him to pieces!"

  With these words, the curtain against the far window swayed, and a quiet mumbling came together into a self-satisfied:

  "Bugger!"

  It should be said it could have just been a cross-breeze combined with the ringing still in my ears.

  "Are you sure regular steel will even kill him?" I asked after that.

  "Regular steel?" Elizabeth-Maria laughed quietly. "Your grandfather worked fairly hard to nourish this saber with blood and death. Believe me, this thing could even put a demon to rest!"

  "Great!" I nodded. "If you catch that buffoon, start with the legs. Cut his toes off so his feet will fit into his boots."

  "Without fail," the girl promised. "
But I cannot guarantee that I will be stopping there."

  "Check behind the curtain," I then advised her, and walked out into the hallway.

  Some things cannot be just let go, even for friends, be they imaginary or not.

  A piercing shriek came from the guest room followed by the thundering boom of an armchair turning over; I just shook my head and, leaning heavily on the banister, went up to the third floor. In the bathroom, I stood before the mirror, looking thoughtlessly at the reflection of my peaked face, then I got out of my clothes and instantly realized that I didn't even have the strength to wash myself. I put some salve on the burns on my wrists and ankles, walked into my bedroom and fell asleep.

  WHEN I AWOKE, IT WAS late evening. I spent a long time lying on the bed looking thoughtlessly at the ceiling, then I forced myself to get up and close the windows. My head felt like it was filled with cotton. There was a foul taste in my mouth of candied plums, but all in all, my general state didn't bring any unpleasant surprises.

  I had taken a sunset nap, nothing more.

  I took a sunset nap, got one in the head, and had a few electric shocks...

  No matter!

  I'm still alive – and that's OK. I know of at least one person who can’t boast as much.

  I headed off to the bathroom, quickly rinsed myself off and again applied some soothing balm to my burns. After that, I tied a towel around my thighs and shuffled off barefoot to the bedroom but there, Elizabeth-Maria was already playing housewife. On the bedside table, she had placed a tray with a covered dish, a teapot and a little basket of lemon cake cut into pieces.

  "You need dinner," she declared in a tone that wouldn't bear objection. Then she looked intensely at me and made a face: "If you say those are stigmata, I think I'll be ill."

  "Stupid joke," I frowned, sitting down on the bed.

  "Well, you are carrying a cross on your back..."

  "That's enough!" I demanded, not wanting to discuss either my tattoos or the chafing on my wrists and ankles. I lifted the cover of the dish and looked in confusion at the incomprehensible dish made of roast vegetables and meat, chopped fine and mixed together. "What is that?"

  "You're gonna like it," the girl smiled. "It's a traditional Indian dish..."

  "I cannot bear foreign foods."

  "You need to eat," Elizabeth-Maria declared, not hearing my objections.

  What I wanted to do was call Theodor and order him to take the dinner away, but I suddenly realized that I was insanely hungry. So I just asked:

  "Did you catch the leprechaun?"

  The succubus turned around, shot me an unkind gaze, suspecting a trick, and stated promisingly:

  "I will."

  Just then I heard a satisfied: "Bugger." When she left the room, though, was unclear to me. I couldn't even see it. After I stuck a spoonful of the exotic delicacy into my mouth, it went down like molten lead.

  It was very, very tasty.

  I poured some tea and took a sip. The very hot water burned the roof of my mouth and tongue so much that there were tears welling up in my eyes. But still, my overall impression of the exotic delicacy was more positive than negative.

  In the end, I ate it all, though at times it seemed I was swallowing pure fire.

  After dinner, I took out the police report copies I'd taken from the robbers' den and began to read them, but I couldn't make out a single word. The letters were jumping around before my eyes, my eyelids stuck together, and after a few minutes of self-torment, I threw myself back on the pillow in exhaustion.

  Sleep!

  I fell asleep instantly and slept through the night like a murder victim.

  I was dreaming of Elizabeth-Maria von Nalz. The daughter of the inspector general was smiling sweetly and pulling me in by the arm for a kiss, but every time I touched her soft skin with my lips, I felt an electric shock.

  What in the world...?

  WHEN I AWOKE, THE LEPRECHAUN was sitting on the window sill, his legs crossed, leafing through the police report, occasionally fumbling around to turn to the next page. He had a fresh bruise under his eye, and his lower lip was swollen. The extra flourishes gave the albino man's face a surprising completeness, making him seem somewhat more real than my normal fantasies.

  "Oh-ho, you've stepped in it this time, laddy!" the pipsqueak looked at me mischievously as soon as I’d clapped my eyes open. "You stuck your nose where it didn’t belong! You’re done for!" And for credibility, he led his thumb across his throat in an imitated slicing motion, but as soon as I turned for my boot, he jumped straight to the floor, threw the report up at the ceiling and hopped out the door.

  I got out of bed, gathered the sheets of paper that were all around the room and walked up to the window. Outside, the night had just barely begun to gray, and I could at least be glad that it had been the leprechaun that opened the blinds, and not some beast from outside.

  With a heavy sigh, I took a seat on the window sill, put the report pages back in the right order, and suddenly remembered that the leprechaun and I had once managed to coexist quite peacefully.

  Just me and my imaginary friend. And there had also been a chess board involved.

  The leprechaun wasn't such a bastard then.

  It should be said that, as soon as I began reading the police report, my nostalgic memories instantly faded.

  The expert analysis of the safe deposit box had been ordered by Senior Inspector Bastian Moran, and, plain as day, the request showed the number of the very safe deposit box rented by my grandmother, the Countess Kósice. I didn't find any analysis ordered on any of the other safe deposit boxes, either.

  I threw the report on the bed and took my timepiece from the bedside table. It was showing six forty-five, but there was no sleep remaining even in one eye, so I decided to spend the morning wisely. I quickly got myself together, went out into the hallway, and as soon as I started down to the first floor, I was overtaken by the leprechaun riding the banister. In one moment, he slid down, jumped off nimbly onto the floor and darted off into the kitchen.

  Theodor followed him with his imperturbable gaze, handed me my cloak and cane, then, as if a matter of course, remarked:

  "I don't want to accuse anyone of anything, Viscount, but silverware has started disappearing again. And this time, we can be quite sure it was not a thieving chef!"

  "Oh!" Elizabeth-Maria delighted, joining us. "The little freak wants to line his pockets, does he?" She looked into the kitchen, but the leprechaun's trail had already run cold.

  "I am not accusing anyone of anything," my butler repeated.

  "We'll figure it out, Theodor," I promised. "Has only silver tableware been disappearing?"

  "Yes, only silver forks."

  "There weren't so many of them left as it was," I shrugged my shoulders and headed for the exit, but was stopped by the succubus.

  "Leopold!" The girl articulated expressively. "Can I count on your good sense?"

  "Without a doubt."

  "So, you'll be back home for lunch then?"

  "I can promise dinner," I told her, going out into the drizzle dribbling down from the sky.

  The weather hadn't especially changed overnight, though the downpour had been exchanged for continuous rain, and the wind wasn't shaking the tops of the trees quite as hard. It was cloudy. The city was enshrouded in a gray wetness, and the iron tower on top of the hill was just barely peeking out of the semi-transparent haze of droplets filling the air.

  Albert Brandt must have been in quite good spirits.

  I had already walked up to the gate when I remembered the package I'd left in the icehouse. I went back home and asked Theodor to go fetch it.

  "But put it in a briefcase!" I warned my butler, leaving the house again. "I'll be in the carriage-house."

  There, I hung my cloak and derby hat on a wall hanger, threw open the back door of the armored car and cursed aloud when I saw the back of the car still filled with boxes. They were making the armored car lean noticeably to the
left.

  I pulled out the nearest box, dragged it to the wall and stretched out my sore back with a moan. I decided not to push myself too hard, so I got out a couple boards, leaned them against the back of the car and started to unload. When my butler came in, the only boxes left in the car were the grenades and the long ones with the curious rounds and launch tube. I did not drag them out. My back was already breaking as it was.

  "Viscount!" Theodor said, not showing any surprise upon seeing the armored vehicle. "Your briefcase!"

  "Leave it there!" I ordered him, digging through the boxes against the wall for the Mauser K63's, and taking the topmost pistol. I set the detachable shoulder stock aside. I wouldn't be needing that. I unwrapped the pistol from its wax paper, thumbed back the hammer and pulled the trigger. It didn't need any extra cleaning, so I immediately loaded it, placing in one bullet after the other. I didn't limit myself to that, either, and loaded another two cartridges. I placed them in the side pockets of my leather briefcase. The pistol itself I had to put next to the frozen package.

  And though I was armed to the teeth, I decided not to tempt fate yet another time and left my property through the back door. I went down the steep incline, jumping from stone to stone and ducking under wet branches, until I reached a ditch. Then, I jumped over its cloudy stream to get to the street.

  If someone was waiting for me at the gates or the bridge, they were going to be bitterly disappointed.

  AFTER GETTING DOWN THE HILL, I immediately headed to the coalhouses and managed to intercept Ramon Miro before he'd left from work.

  "Let me treat you to a coffee," I offered when my friend, yawning, emerged from behind the gates of his new place of employment.

  "So just like that, out of the goodness of your heart, you're just coming to treat me, huh?" He frowned in disbelief.

  "Nothing of the sort," I laughed. "I need advice."

  Ramon sighed heavily and waved his arm:

  "Alright, let's go."

  We walked down the streets. The water in the gutters was black from all the coal dust and soot. We walked into the first coffee shop we came across on Mendeleev Avenue.