proceed, Nurse Green.’
The nurse came to stand next to where Ella’s head was resting. ‘Now to plug you into ABBA.’ Out of the corner of her eye Ella saw the Professor press a button on a control panel. She felt a nudge at the back of her head. ‘You see, Miss Thomas, completely painless,’ said the nurse with a little swagger in her voice. ‘All that remains before we send you on your way is for the Professor to say a few words.’
The Professor remained motionless at the control panel. Ella had met furniture with more empathy. ‘You’re now ready to become a player in the Demi-Monde, Miss Thomas. When I press this’ – he wagged a finger towards a large red button – ‘you will be in the Demi-Monde. Although it is superfluous – PINC contains all your instructions and parameters relating to Operation Offbeat – I will summarise what you will see immediately you arrive there. You will materialise in the London District of the Rookeries Sector at seventeen-hundred hours on the fortieth day of Winter, in the Demi-Mondian year one-thousand and four, in an alleyway next to the building where your client- Dupe has rooms. I would suggest you go immediately to your lodgings and take forty minutes or so to acclimatise yourself. Players have complained of a feeling of disorientation – of ill-ucination – when first entering the Demi- Monde. The auditions being held for the “chirp” will take place at eighteen-hundred hours at the Prancing Pig pub five blocks from your home. It is an easy fifteen-minute walk. After that you’re on your own. All you have to do is locate and rescue Norma Williams and transport her to the one remaining Portal that we have functioning, which is situated in NoirVille. Again PINC has all the parameters necessary to find the Portal.’
The Professor made it sound like a walk in the park.
‘Where do I find Norma?’
‘Unfortunately with Norma Williams being a renegade Dupe we are unable to track her accurately, but our last intelligence was that she was active in the Rookeries.’
Marvellous.
‘One final piece of advice, Miss Thomas: the only thing distinguishing you from the other Dupes that populate the Demi-Monde is that you can bleed. We will be introducing a hormone into your body to suspend your menstrual cycle, which would otherwise be mimicked in the Demi-Monde, but we can do nothing to stop bleeding from accidental cuts. I would suggest that you make every effort not to be cut whilst in the Demi-Monde, otherwise your fellow Dupes will know instantly that you are a Daemon.’ He gave Ella what he must have thought was a reassuring smile. ‘All that remains is for me to wish you the very best of luck.’ He turned to the nurse. ‘You may complete the TIS envelopment.’
The nurse placed a mouthpiece between Ella’s lips. Ella felt the black skin of the TIS begin to flow over her chin, over her mouth, her nose, her eyes and then…
Part Two
Entrance
MAP OF RODINA.
12
The Demi-Monde: 40th Day of Winter, 1004
It is hereby announced that as from the 31st day of Summer 1003 all use of conjurations, witchcrafts, sorceries and enchantments (including but not limited to the enacting of seances, the making of 4Tellings, the devising of calculations relating to preScientific prognostications, the use of crystals and wands, and the employment of scrying and other forms of divination) is declared illegal (on pain of being declared nonNix) within the frontiers of the ForthRight EXCEPT when said conjurations, witchcrafts, sorceries and enchantments are performed by psychics examined and licensed by the Ministry of Psychic Affairs.
– Decree 8989 relating to the Control and Licensing of Psychic and Occult Practices within the ForthRight: ForthRight Law Gazette, Summer 1003
Of all the seasons in the Demi-Monde, Vanka Maykov liked Winter the best. Oh, he hated the bitter, biting cold, he detested the ankle-deep snow, he abhorred the frosty winds and simply loathed the ice-treacherous pavements. But there were compensations, the principal ones being that during Winter it was permissible for him to wander through the streets of the Rookeries with the collar of his coat turned high, his fox-fur chapka pulled hard down on his head and a thick woollen sharf wrapped around his face. And dressed like that it was impossible for anyone to recognise him.
Which, when you had Comrade General Mikhail Dmitrievich Skobelev and his bully-boys combing the ForthRight in search of you, was very handy.
Not that Vanka was too concerned that General Skobelev was on the lookout for him: in his opinion the General could look for him for as long as he liked. What Vanka was worried about was the General finding him. That and the small part of Vanka’s anatomy the General had promised to lop off if he did find the psychic.
Vanka had never really understood the emotion of vengefulness, and anyway, how was he to have known that the lady (lady, ha!) in question – Madam Alisha Petrovna Andreyeva – had been General Skobelev’s sister?
The General’s lust for revenge seemed totally ridiculous to Vanka. Why would anyone go to so much trouble just because of a woman? It wasn’t civilised. There were lots of women in the ForthRight and since the Troubles there were a damned sight more women than men. And despite the Party’s urging that they all follow the teachings of UnFunDaMentalism and disport themselves in a modest and ladylike manner, girls would be girls.
Or, as in Madam Andreyeva’s case, very naughty little girls.
At the end of the shadowed street, Vanka made an absentminded left turn into the shit-strewn alleyway that led to the Prancing Pig. He shuddered at the thought of being reduced to asking Burlesque Bandstand for help.
But when Vanka had escaped the General by sliding through the concealed door, out of the back window of his apartment in St Petersburg and down the fire escape, the quandary he faced was where to run to. And he had to run for it, he had to get out of Rodina while he still had the use of his legs.
He’d immediately corrected himself: while he still had his legs. The General’s boys were meant to be really handy with their hatchets.
It hadn’t been much of a stretch to decide to head for the Rookeries. Running to NoirVille was a no-no: Shaka and his gang of cut-throats hated Blanks with a vengeance, and anyway he didn’t fancy being buggered bandy by all the zadniks living there. And an equally unpleasant, if somewhat different, problem confronted him if he was to exit in the direction of the Coven: the Suffer-O-Gettes were so anti-men – well, anti-ordinary-men, Empress Wu had a soft spot for geniuses like Karl Marx and Pierre-Simon Laplace – that trying to hide there would necessitate him having to sing falsetto for the rest of his life. Letting those mad-cow LessBiens chop his bollocks off and turning him into a NoN did not appeal.
The Quartier Chaud had been a possibility. All he would have had to do was pinch a boat and scull across the Thames. His French was pretty good too. And it was over a year since he’d sold Godfrey de Bouillon that consignment of adulterated blood. That’s what had finally ruled the Quartier out: Godfrey de Bouillon never forgot and even wearing a mask like all the other CitiZens in the Quartier wouldn’t stop Vanka being recognised. De Bouillon was a mad, vicious bugger and without Madam Alisha Petrovna Andreyeva’s fortune to pay him off…
So the Rookeries were really the only place that Vanka could hide. His English was perfect and with the Rookeries being part of the ForthRight he didn’t need any new documents. He’d done business there too, so he had contacts. The problem Vanka had was blood.
He was sure that the Checkya monitored the Blood Banks, that they had cryptos hanging around noting who was doing what in the Transfusion Booths, trying to spot when transfers and withdrawals were made. And if the Checkya knew, then sure as eggs were eggs General Skobelev would know: someone as important as the General
