in and mucho de able to diggeth the most secret and strange of DemiMondian happenings. In terms of the dark, dark WhoDoo magic they are, like, high, fly and too wet to dry.
– Greetings Gate, Let’s Agitate:
Cab Calloway, Bust Your Conk Books
It took a moment when Ella woke up for her to remember where she was. She remembered being spewed out of the sewer, remembered landing in the icy-cold waters of the Rhine, remembered Vanka dragging her ashore and bustling her through the night-black alleyways of Berlin and she remembered him bringing her to these rooms which belonged to…
She struggled for a moment trying to recall the name. It was a funny name.
Rivets.
That was it: Rivets, the young guy who seemed to be Vanka’s friend, who had taken them in and given them a bed for the night. It was Rivets who’d shown her to the bedroom she was now occupying. She remembered taking off her foul and soaking wet clothes, wrapping herself in a blanket and lying down on the bed, but after that, nothing.
She focused her sleep-heavy eyes towards the clock ticking on the wall. It was two o’clock… two o’clock in the afternoon if the sunshine streaming in through the window was any indicator. That meant she’d been asleep for almost ten hours. Using an elbow she levered herself into a sitting position – trying to ignore the protests of her aching body as she did so – and looked around. It was really quite a pleasant bedroom, with high ceilings and elegant furnishings. It was also very neat and tidy, the only jarring note being the pristine white shirt hanging from the wardrobe door with a sheet of paper pinned to the collar.
Odd.
Grudgingly relinquishing the warmth of her bed, she swung her legs out from under the covers, got to her feet and stretched, arching the pain and the cramps out of her back and reaching high with her arms until her muscles announced that they were recovered from the torment of crouching in the sewers. Then, keeping her blanket wrapped tight around her, she tripped over to see what was written on the message.
Good afternoon Ella,
I’ve had to pop out for a couple of hours. I’ll be back at 4 o’clock. I suggest that you spend the time ridding yourself of some of the friends you’ve brought with you from Warsaw and making yourself presentable for a night on the town. You’ll find some towels and other useful items on the dresser. I’m sorry but your clothes were beyond salvaging so I’ve had them burnt. I’ll bring you a new wardrobe back with me. In the interim all I can offer you is the use of one of my shirts.
Your friend
Vanka Maykov
It took nearly an hour, four big pans of piping hot water, lots of scrubbing, savage use of a nit-comb and nearly all of a bottle of Mrs Murdock’s Patented Lice Lotion before Ella began to feel clean and human again. Spirits revived, she’d put on Vanka’s shirt and then set about brewing herself a mug of coffee.
She was just enjoying a second mug when a very smartly dressed Vanka arrived back at the rooms, looking freshly barbered and laundered and with his arms laden with boxes.
‘Ah, so Sleeping Beauty returns to the land of the living,’ he announced as he placed the boxes onto the table. ‘You look marvellous, Ella, and I have to say that that shirt never looked as good on me as it does on you. How are you feeling?’
Ella curtsied her appreciation of his compliment. ‘A little battered and bruised but still in one piece. You were very considerate regarding the toiletries.’
‘I trust you found everything you needed. Please, treat my humble apartment as you would your own home.’
‘This is your apartment?’
‘It’s a bolt-hole I have in Berlin, but because of fears that it might be being watched by that swine Skobelev I’ve steered clear of it of late. Rivets has been looking after it for me.’ Vanka must have sensed the unvoiced question. ‘Rivets is my partner in crime. He helps me with some of my more unorthodox business ventures.’
As explanations went it explained precisely nothing, which Ella guessed was exactly what Vanka intended. ‘What’s in the boxes?’ she asked as she settled down on the couch.
‘Presents… presents for you.’
‘Oh, good: I adore presents.’
‘The sad fact is, Ella, that having seen you in that shirt I find myself loath to give them to you. You have very fine legs and it is therefore with some reluctance that I must provide clothes designed to hide them from view.’ With that he tapped a finger on top of the packages. ‘But first an apology: I must confess to have taken advantage of you when you were asleep last night.’
The sudden concerned look on her face provoked a laugh. ‘Forgive my clumsy phrasing: I took advantage of you to measure your feet whilst you were asleep. I have taken the liberty of selecting two costumes for you. Louffie Louverture – the man we are to negotiate with regarding the delivery of blood to Warsaw – has a penchant for fine clothes and beautiful women so no expense has been spared! And all this is courtesy of Aleister Crowley and the really quite outrageous fee he paid for us to put on the seance at Dashwood Manor.’ He opened the first box. ‘This costume is quite mundane: it is something a fashionable young lady might wear in the afternoon.’
Once the package’s contents had been laid out across the back of the couch, Ella found herself astonished by the care that Vanka had lavished on the selection of her outfit. The long skirt was cream-coloured with deep vents at the back which would, she suspected, give it an elegantly flowing line. There was a contrasting short-cut jacket of the deepest blue with a high collar and gigot sleeves, and a white blouse in the most delicate of lace. The whole ensemble was to be topped off by a straw boater dressed with the inevitable veil.
‘Do you like it?’ he asked anxiously.
‘It’s marvellous. Vanka, you have exquisite taste.’
‘But wait! There is my second selection, an ensemble for you to wear when we visit the Resi tonight.’
‘The Resi?’
‘It’s a nightclub here in Berlin.’
Ella scrolled through PINC to be told that the Resi in the Berlin District of the ForthRight was a duplicate of the original, Real World nightclub that had been famous – infamous, more like – as a hotbed of immorality and decadence in Weimar Germany.
This should be interesting.
‘Strange that there should be a nightclub in the centre of the ForthRight. I wouldn’t have thought the UnFunnies would have permitted it.’
Vanka laughed. ‘You can thank Beria for the Resi: he wants somewhere where he can let his hair down. He goes there to hunt for girls.’ Vanka lit a cigarette. ‘Anyway, as rumour has it, he also keeps it open to piss off Crowley: the pair of them hate each other.’
‘Why are we going there?’
‘It’s where we’ll find Toussaint Louverture… Louffie to his friends. He’s one of Shaka’s chief lieutenants and he’s the chap who can organise the shipment of blood.’
‘You know him?’
‘Yeah, I know him. He owes me for a consignment of blood.’ He gave Ella a rueful smile. ‘We’ll have to be careful: Louverture’s a very dangerous man. He’s a Blood Brother so the last thing we want him to know is that you’re a Daemon. If he finds out then you’ll get to NoirVille all right but you’ll find yourself being exsanguinated for your trouble.’ Vanka took a nervous drag of his cigarette. ‘Hopefully though he’s mellowed a little since I saw him last. Word is that since he’s hooked up with Josephine Baker he’s a changed man.’
‘Josephine Baker?’
‘Yeah. Louverture isn’t just one of the big dukes in the Blood Brothers, he also runs the Revue Negre – which is currently performing at the Resi – though he only does that so he can keep an eye on his Bronze Venus.’
Ella clapped her hands in excitement. ‘We’re going to see Josephine Baker tonight?’
A nod from Vanka.
‘Then tonight’s going to be one of the most memorable nights of my life.’
‘I just hope we find Louffie in a good mood, otherwise it might also be the last night of your entire life. That’s why I took so much trouble selecting your evening gown.’ He opened a second box. ‘I wanted to find a dress for you
