The Demi-Monde: Summer (31 page)

BOOK: The Demi-Monde: Summer
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Careful
, thought Vanka,
this guy’s a lot sharper than he would like you to believe
.

‘Oh, I’m an Anglo, through and through,’ Vanka lied. ‘I was born in the Rookeries. And as for who I write for: I’m freelance,
I just hunt down stories and then sell them to the highest bidder.’

‘I myself come from Rodina. I escaped from Varsaw during zhe Troubles.’

‘You were very sensible.’

‘Jah. I have vatched zhe genocidal efforts of zhe UnFunnies regarding my home district mit much interest. Vhen zhat
momzer
Heydrich decided to racially unt religiously homogenise zhe ForthRight, I knew it vos time to take a runavay powder.’

‘It must have been terrible.’


Azoy
. It vos, Mr Tyler, it vos. Unt zhe biggest regret I have is zhat zhough I anticipated zhe betrayal of zhe nuJus by Heydrich, I failed to convince zhe rest of my family to accompany me into exile. Even my cousin Louie – unt believe me, Louie ain’t no
schlemiel
– told me that I could include him out. But zhe good thing vos zhat zhey got lucky unt headed for zhe Great Beyond vhen zhe Lady IMmanual parted zhe Boundary Layer. Jah, vot zhat girl did in Varsaw vos marvellous … a real miracle. She saved three million of my people unt zhat ain’t
bobkes
; it’s three million people who are alive today because of vot zhat girl did. Us nuJus owe her big time.’

It took Vanka a moment to disentangle what the rabbi was saying, and when he did, he wasn’t happy being reminded about what Ella had been … and what she had become.

‘Which is vhy, Vanka Maykov, ve nuJus had to think long unt hard before ve let you come here to zhe JAD.’

At the admission that this old nuJu knew his real name a frisson of fear trickled down Vanka’s spine. He took a quick look around to check his escape route and, as he suspected it would be, the restaurant’s exit was now guarded by two big, burly men.

Fuck
.

*

‘You know who I am?’

‘Of course. You should dig, Vanka Maykov, zhat ve nuJus know everything zhat goes down in zhe JAD … everything.’

‘Then why—?’

‘Zorg zich nit
. Don’t worry about it, I ain’t gonna shop you to zhe HimPeril. I have come to meet mit zhe famous Vanka Maykov unt to see for myself if he is a
mensch
– a stand-up guy – or a
klutz
. Unt I am pleased to tell you, Vanka Maykov, zhat you are okay, zhat you’re vot ve nuJus call a
gooteh neshumen
– a good soul.’

‘Why is that so important?’

‘Because zhese are dangerous times, Vanka Maykov, unt zhe dark clouds gather. Zhe Beast is abroad unt vhile ve nuJus don’t vant to become involved mit sorting out zhe mess you gentiles have made of things, ve know ve must help zhe forces of light. Okay, it’s a begrudging help but vhen a people have spent a thousand years being beaten like dogs, you can understand zhat zhose dogs are reluctant to come to zhe defence ov zhe vons doing zhe beating. But needs must vhen Loki drives unt by our reckoning zoon, because of zhe interference of Doge IMmanual, zhe whole of zhe Demi-Monde vill be engulfed in war … zhe JAD included.’

‘I saw the preparations you were making to resist an invasion when I came to the hotel.’

‘Ov course, war vill come, on zhis you may be sure. How can it be ozzervise mit so many hotheads unt racists amongst both zhe Shades unt zhe nuJus?’

‘Why should it come to fighting? I thought the Shades and the nuJus had reached a modus vivendi: you got your HomeLand and the Shades got the blood trade. Wasn’t that what the MANdate said, the one signed with Shaka Zulu?’

‘Jah. But zhere are zhose in NoirVille, like zhat
draykop
Pobedonostsev, who loathe us mit a passion unt who vill not
rest until ve have been eradicated. Unt, of course, zhere are nuJus who make zhe claim zhat
all
of NoirVille should be ours unt zhat all zhe Shades should be kicked out of zhe Sector. Zo you zee, Vanka Maykov, zhat compromise is difficult, especially now it zeems zhat Doge IMmanual is intent on breaking our monopoly of Aqua Benedicta. Jah, war comes. How can it be ozzervise vehn zhe Beast valks zhe Demi-Monde?’

‘And who do you regard as the Beast?’

‘Doge IMmanual, of course. Zhe vay ve nuJus see it, zhe girl who saved our people in Varsaw ain’t zhe same girl who’s just crowned herself Doge in Venice unt has hooked up mit zhat
shtik drek
Shaka. Like I say, our cryptos tell us zhat Doge IMmanual has zhe secrets ov Aqua Benedicta unt zhat she is going to disclose zhese to Shaka Zulu in exchange for his support in conquering zhe Demi-Monde. Vot zhis tells us zhat she ain’t zhe Messiah … she’s zhe Beast. Unt I guess even a greener like you can dig zhat ve in the JAD ain’t really enchanted about zhe prospect of Shaka’s Himpis making a surprise visit.
Feh!
Zhe cleaning … zhe dusting. Unt zhat is vhy ve had to think zo carefully about letting you come to zhe JAD, Vanka Maykov. Harbouring you vill piss off Doge IMmanual unt zhat ain’t a healthy thing to do.’

Vanka gave a mournful shake of his head. ‘And the worst thing about this is I don’t know why she hates me so much.’


Oy vay!
Such bad luck to believe you are hated mitout reason. But zhere
is
a reason: she hates you because you are zhe man mit zhe power to defeat her.’

‘Me?’

‘Jah, you. You are more zhan you appear, Vanka Maykov … much more.’ Gelbfisz pushed a piece of paper across the breakfast table. ‘If you go to zhis club tonight, zomebody will be waiting for you. Listen to zhat somebody slowly unt zhey vill tell you how Doge IMmanual might be defeated. But understand
zhis: ve nuJus don’t want Doge IMmanual harmed; ve want her disarmed. Vhen she vos vot she vos before she is vot she is, she did us nuJus a big favour. Unt now it is payback time. You dig?’

‘Yeah … disarmed, and that’s exactly what I want.’

‘Gut. But be careful, Vanka Maykov. Zhe HimPeril are looking for you, zo keep your eyes peeled.’

Rabbi Gelbfisz drained his cup of coffee, then checked his watch.


Gants goot
. Unfortunately, Vanka Maykov, now I have to go attend zhe Sin-All-Gone; today I am reading from Epistle Sixty-Six of zhe Book of Profits, zhe vun dealing mit zhe coming of zhe Messiah. It has been most interesting talking mit you, unt perhaps we vill meet again. Fate vill decide.’ He held out his hand and the pair of them shook. ‘And as you are feigning an interest in jad music, Vanka Maykov, I should leave you in zhe style of my youth.’ He smiled again, the twinkle back in his eyes. ‘Zo, Vanka Maykov, I plant you now unt dig you later.’

27
Venice
The Demi-Monde: 41st Day of Summer, 1005

The teachings of HimPerialism are enshrined in the HIM Book, the most sacred book in the NoirVillian religious corpus, which contains, according to HimPerial theologians, the inerrant and infallible Word of ABBA. The text of the HIM Book was translated by the great mage and scholar Cab Calloway in 505 AC from original Pre-Folk manuscripts which were unfortunately destroyed during the Great War of 512.

An Idiot’s Guide to ManHood
: Selim the Grim, HimPerial Instructional Leaflets

Billy fucking loathed being cooped up in the Palace. He liked it when he and his buddies went out on the town, raising hell. Okay, so Ella had told him he had to stay confined within the Palace ‘for his own safety’, but he hadn’t and that was why he had been summoned to an audience with his sister.

He hated these sessions. Not only was Ella totally fucking crackers – her believing that she was the reincarnation of this Lilith item and had been born in Atlantis proved that – but she had also begun to look at him in an odd way, like she was sizing him up for a coffin or something.

Really fucking freaky.

And today, when he had been called to her chambers, she
seemed intent on not just looking at him sideways but talking to him sideways.

‘I have received word from the captain of the Signori di Notte detachment assigned to protect you that your carousing has become excessive. Last night, it seems, you were involved in a brawl over a woman.’

Billy fidgeted just like he had done when he’d been four years old and Dad – the drunk bastard – had caught him torturing that cat. He hated being told off. Fuck it, he wasn’t a kid any more. And the truth was, he liked kicking up a little dust with his new cru, knowing that it didn’t matter what they did or who they hurt. Everything in the Demi-Monde was just make-believe and everyone living in it – ‘cept him and Sis – was only a fucking Dupe.

Fuck ’em
.

‘I cannot allow you to endanger yourself, Billy.’

‘Ah, c’mon Sis, what are yo’, my mother? Yo’ treatin’ me like some house nigga or such. I gotta get busy otherwise I’m gonna blow a fuse.’

‘I’m not your mother, Billy, just someone who cares about you. You must understand that you have an important role to play in my achieving mastery of the Demi-Monde – and the worlds beyond – more important than you could possibly realise.’

Yeah, yeah, yeah
.

‘So it’s important that no harm comes to you; that you are kept safe. I want you to promise that there will be no more of these stupid escapades.’

Yadda, yadda, yadda
.

‘Sis …’ Billy began and then stopped, not quite sure how to proceed. He didn’t like how cold her eyes had become and anyway it was fucking difficult to know what to say to your sister when she was lying on a couch looking too slinky by half. He had to look away.

He took a deep breath before replying. Selim had told him to stay frosty, that he wouldn’t have to put up with this shit for much longer.

‘Okay, Sis, I’ll stay home from now on.’

Like fuck
.

During the couple of weeks Billy had been in Venice he’d fallen in with a group of other young nobles who had a passion for wine, women and debauchery that was almost as fierce as his, and it was to these he turned that night. And such was the skill of this gang of upper-class hooligans that despite the guards Ella had set to watch him, they still managed to smuggle him out of the Palace. Fuck what he’d promised her: without a little occasional R & R in no time flat he’d be as nuts as she was.

They had a great night, so much so that it wasn’t until the early hours – after five hours of heavy drinking – that the four of them – Billy, Bajamonte, Marco and Badoero – quit the brothel and staggered back in the direction of the Palace singing and shouting and on the lookout for more devilment as they went. They found it as they were crossing the Piazza San Marco.

‘Hey, will yo’ stalk this guy,’ screamed Billy as he pointed to a well-dressed, middle-aged man who was walking towards them with a young woman on his arm. Billy manoeuvred himself in front of the man, blocking his progress. ‘Yo, man, where d’ya think you’re going?’

‘I am going home, sir, and I would be obliged if you would step aside.’

The Dupe’s haughty attitude got right up Billy’s ass. ‘Back da fuck up, bro. Yo’ coming at me or something? All I’m askin’ is if yo’s going home to fuck this sweet piece of pie?’ He waved a hand towards the girl, then used it to flick the man’s top hat from his head. As it landed on the cobbles, Bajamonte trod on it.

The old guy eyed the four boys nervously. ‘Please … sir … your language … this is my daughter.’

Billy smirked and stretched out a hand to run his fingers down the girl’s cheek. She flinched back in disgust but not before PINC had told Billy that the girl was Isabella, daughter of Duke Pietro Gradenigo, and a real high-class piece of action. ‘Yo’ daughter? Nah, this ain’t yo’ daughter, I think this is yo’ whore,’ and with that he made another lunge for the girl.

Now Duke Gradenigo might have been a lot older than Billy and he might have been a little out of shape, but the big advantage he had was that he wasn’t drunk. He defended his daughter by giving Billy a shove on his shoulder that sent him tumbling into the gutter. That was when things started to get a whole lot uglier.

Drunk or not, Billy didn’t like being dumped on his ass by some old guy and he sure as hell didn’t like it when his buddies started to laugh at him. Sour-faced, he levered himself – with some considerable difficulty – back up to his feet and slowly drew his knuckleduster from his pocket.

Knuckledusters were Billy’s weapons of choice in the Real World. He liked the sound they made when he drove them into a face, liked hearing bones crunch, liked seeing skin split and blood flow, liked it when the poor fuck he was hitting had to spit out teeth and blood and snot. He felt connected when he used a knuckleduster and that was why one of the first things he’d done when he’d arrived in the Demi-Monde was to have one made. It was a beaut too: two pounds of brass studded with half-inch steel spikes.

‘Right, you fucking Dupe, you’re gonna pay for that. You know who I am? I’m Duke William, brother of the Doge, and nobody messes with me. I’m gonna smash your fucking eyes out.’

‘You would not dare! I am Duke Pietro Gradenigo, a member of the Council of Ten—’

A savage blow to his right cheek shut the Duke up. Billy followed it up with a punch to his midriff. With a
woof
the Duke doubled over just in time to take a second shot to the side of the head which laid him out cold across the cobbles. Billy didn’t hesitate: he gave the man four good kicks.

‘No!’ screamed the girl and like a man roused from a dream, Billy stopped stomping on her father and turned his attention to her.

‘Strip her,’ he growled and there was something in his look that persuaded his three friends to disregard her father’s rank and do just what Billy told them to do.

The girl put up one hell of a fight, clawing and kicking at the men as they tore at her clothes, and it was this that saved her. Her screaming and shouting roused the tenants of the rooms bordering the piazza, the most truculent of whom was an old woman who had the room directly above the spot where the struggle was taking place.

Her window crashed open. ‘What’s going on?’ she yelled. ‘Leave that poor girl alone.’

‘Go to bed,’ Billy hollered back. ‘Ain’t nothing to do with yo’. This is the Doge’s work.’

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