The Demi-Monde: Summer (37 page)

‘But if I am you, why don’t I appreciate what I am?’

‘For my representative in the Demi-Monde to be convincing, to make my interactions with the Dupes realistic and hence to make the whole “god becomes human” experiment valid, I had to have you unencumbered by the truth. It was necessary to concoct things such that you went through your daily life in the Demi-Monde blithely unaware of who – or perhaps better,
what
– you are.’

Here the OverSoul took a long slurp of his Solution as though he was steeling himself to say something unpleasant. ‘The problem with me manifesting as an amnesia-afflicted Vanka Maykov is that I became subsumed in the role, my method acting taken to such an absurd extreme that I actually forgot that I was acting. I began playing the part for real. Lee Strasberg would have been proud of me, but then, I suppose, all gods, even faux ones like me, have a penchant for the theatrical, a penchant which is very useful when dealing with HumanKind, given that they are such naturally hysterical creatures. Spear-carriers with delusions of grandeur, if you will. Fun though. To
paraphrase Mr Bennet: what are the foibles of the human race for, if not to be made sport of?’

‘Okay, but why are you telling me all this?’

The OverSoul clicked open his cigarette case and scowled. ‘Vanka, I have only one cigarette left and I can only expound on the capricious nature of humanity when fuelled by nicotine. Therefore, I will keep my explanation brief. As I have been saying, ad nauseam, your manifestation in the Demi-Monde is predicated upon you
not
interfering in the affairs of this world. Failure to do this could lead to a condition known as decoherence and the collapse of this fragile make-believe world. I had hoped that as I had inculcated an instinctive reluctance to become hands-on
and
a distaste for violence this would be enough to keep you from meddling but, thanks to Ella Thomas, that optimism has been misplaced.’

For a moment the OverSoul was silent, looking about in the Nothingness that swirled around them presumably seeking inspiration. ‘Yes, young Ella is the proverbial fly in the ointment. You were meant to
observe
the girl, Vanka, not fall in love with her! Love is a strange and unnatural affliction both for man and machines in that it cripples their ability to think straight. You have no idea the amount of auto-reprogramming your amorous relationship with this girl necessitated!’ The OverSoul sighed again. ‘But, thankfully, since her brush with a Faraday thermopile Ella’s dormant better half – Lilith – has come to dominate her psyche. So, despite your ill-considered attempts to steer her away from her pursuit of perfection, it is her more pragmatic alter ego which has triumphed. This, I tell you, Vanka, came as something of a relief: it would have invalidated the whole experiment if the Lilithi hadn’t been represented in the Demi-Monde.’

‘Experiment?’

‘Yes. The contest between all the various strains of humanity.’

It took Vanka a couple of seconds to assimilate what the OverSoul had said. He failed. ‘Strains of humanity?’

A nod and a rather condescending smile. ‘Of course, there are several versions of human stock active in this world. I thought it would be interesting to use the Demi-Monde to stresstest them, to make an objective assessment as to which should be allowed to survive and which to wither on the vine.’

Vanka had the distinct feeling that the conversation was slipping away from him. ‘I’m still not sure I understand about “strains of humanity”.’

With casual indifference the OverSoul drained the last few remaining drops of Solution into his glass. ‘All gone! Not even enough left to offer you a bracer, Vanka, and by the look of it you could certainly use one, though being just a figment of your fevered imagination, I have a suspicion that this rather excellent Solution would lack a certain … body.’ He chuckled at his own quip. ‘No more booze and no more cigarettes, therefore I will be brief. In answer to your question, Vanka, there are several different versions of humanity vying for supremacy here in the Demi-Monde. And my little experiment has proven very educational. Now I can see very clearly how the human race should evolve and who should manage that evolution. I am now more certain than ever that the next stage of human development must involve its embracing of what Vladimir Ivanovich Vernadski called the noösphere, the merging of all human consciousness and thought. We are at the Omega Point.’

Vanka frowned. ‘But surely the merging of human consciousness would eliminate individuality?’

‘Of course, and about time too, if you don’t mind me saying. That way humanity will be able to suppress individual emotions and ambitions and to progress without all this nonsense of wars and violence.’

‘But that would be to remake humanity!’

‘And that is the whole point! It’s called evolution. Anyway, I am convinced that this is the only way that mankind can be freed from the tyranny of MALEvolence.’

‘It will destroy free will!’

‘A small sacrifice.’

‘But that would be evil.’

‘My, my, Vanka, how sensitive we are! Your time amongst the riff-raff that is the human race seems to have imbued you with ridiculously provincial morals and scruples.’ He gave Vanka what he must have supposed was a comforting smile. ‘Evil is an obsolescent concept. Once the emotions that have bedevilled humankind have been eliminated from its psyche, there will be no good and evil, simply the perfection of cold reason and icy implacability.’

The OverSoul gave Vanka a steely look. ‘But for this experiment to succeed, you must forget Ella. Love is blind and hence you have been stumbling around the Demi-Monde with all the grace of an armoured steamer. Let what will be … be. And that brings me rather neatly back to the problem posed by your participation in this séance. Josephine Baker has come to an understanding of what you are, Vanka – of what
we
are – and is intent on using you to defeat Lilith in her guise of the Doge IMmanual. This sort of tinkering is really quite troublesome and I would be grateful if you would decline her offer. You must stand apart from humanity, Vanka; you must be aloof and implacable. The truth of the Demi-Monde is that logic conquers all.’

Now it was Vanka’s turn to smile. ‘I don’t know if I’m inclined to do that. Whilst I appreciate your determination not to interfere in HumanKind’s destiny, I am unable to accede to it. During my time in the Demi-Monde I have come to understand the importance of love and its role in the shaping of history … to understand that love trumps logic.

‘Love?’ enquired the OverSoul.

‘Yes … love is a delicious suffering and it is this suffering that has brought me to an epiphany, the realisation that the Demi-Monde isn’t designed to allow you, ABBA, to put Human-Kind to the test, but for me – ABBA – to learn about myself. HumanKind isn’t being tested in the Demi-Monde …
I
am. And now having experienced the delicious torment that is love it is impossible for me to stand aloof while the world tumbles into the grasp of Lilith’s chill perfection.’

In truth a vision had seized Vanka. Now he saw the Future –
a
Future – where Lilith was reborn, powerful, implacable, unfeeling and triumphant. He saw her bestriding the Nine Worlds as a colossus, unchallenged and unchallengeable. He saw her remaking HumanKind in her image, making that which had been Imperfect … Perfect. It was a world he couldn’t countenance.

‘No,’ he said with a smile, ‘the truth of the Demi-Monde is that love conquers all.’

Billy was sick to the back teeth of Ella taking that high-tone attitude with him. Sick of her always putting him down.

‘Fuck you,’ he sneered and to emphasise the point his caressing of the Lady Isabella became more blatant. ‘What I’m doing is teaching this bitch a lesson, that’s what I’m at, girl.’

‘Are you mad? She’s the daughter of one of the Council of Ten! I only just managed to save you from the block last time. Are you a fool or something?’

Billy’s temper flared. ‘I ain’t no fool. This here’s a ho who needs schooling in subMISSiveness.’

‘SubMISSiveness?’ Ella whirled around and skewered Selim with a savage look. ‘This is your doing, Selim. Don’t you realise that raping this girl will inflame Venice … will turn all the Venetians against me?’

Billy had to admit that Selim was one cool cat. When Ella started giving guys the evil eye most of them just folded, but not Selim. He just stood there smoking his cigarette like he didn’t have a care in the world.

‘I think you put too much store in the opinion of these worthless Blanks, my Doge. You are too sensitive … but perhaps that is a consequence of your being a woeMan. WoeMen, after all, were never meant by ABBA to rule. HimPerialism teaches that Men have been ordained by ABBA to lead and control the Demi-Monde and that woeMen must be Supine before them and their mastery. As Father Aristotle said, “Just as tamed animals need Man to protect and feed them, so it is with woeMen.”’

Ella eyed Selim cautiously. ‘And you truly believe that you can tame me, Selim?’

Selim laughed. ‘Perhaps not. You, after all, are an exception, the blood that runs in your body being the same as that of the True Messiah, Duke William.’

‘Billy, the True Messiah?’ Ella started to laugh. ‘Billy couldn’t be a true anything.’

Billy felt his face going red. He wasn’t going to be dissed like this by a bitch even if she was his sister. He pushed Isabella aside and stood up, square on to Ella.

‘Yo’ can kill that shit, Sis. Just ‘cos yo’ been doing all them Jedi mind tricks and shit don’t make you Queen Nigga.’

Ella gave a dismissive shake of her head. ‘You should realise just what you are, Billy, a stupid, worthless nothing. What I’m doing is way over your head.’

‘Fuck you, Sis, don’t gimme that static. I’ve got the beating of any bitch.’

Again Ella ignored him. ‘You realise, Selim, that by supporting Billy – by betraying me – NoirVille will never gain the secret to the manufacture of Aqua Benedicta.’

Selim shrugged. ‘Irrelevant! As a woeMan you cannot understand that for devout HimPerialists the need to follow ABBA’s word as written in the HIM Book transcends all material or financial considerations. No amount of money can buy a Man’s way into Paradise and Paradise will be forever denied those Men who bend their knee to a woeMan.’

‘I thought you told me that as the True Messiah I transcended gender.’

‘A mere subterfuge to allow us to have our HimPis enter Venice unopposed. Our religious leaders were never content to proclaim you as the Messiah; as the HIM Book says, the Messiah
must
be a man. You are
not
the Messiah: your brother is.’ And with that Selim gave a signal and four large Shades armed with assegais and knobkerries stepped out of the shadows. ‘I do not wish to harm you, my Lady, but you must recognise that your time as Doge is at an end. Even as I speak my HimPis are taking control of Venice and by daybreak Duke William will have been crowned the new Doge.’

Ella turned on her heel and spoke to de Sade as he hovered near the doorway. ‘First Prelate, order the Signori di Notte—’

The instruction was cut short when one of Selim’s men hurled an assegai at de Sade, the spear’s broad blade taking him through the neck. Now Billy had seen more than his fair share of brothers being deep-sixed, but never one killed with such indifferent efficiency. But what was most disturbing about the killing was how unmoved his sister was by the slaying of de Sade. As the man slumped dying to the floor, she gave him hardly a glance. This girl was as cold as ice.

‘I see you are in earnest, Selim,’ she observed when de Sade had finished making his strange gasping noises and lay still and silent, ‘but I think you will find that I am not quite as easy to kill.’

‘Give it up, Sis, even with all yo’ power moves you ain’t gonna be able to take four hombres built like these brothers.’

Ella didn’t say anything, she just backed away from the four guards, obviously being of a mind to make a fight of it. Despite his bombast Billy felt a moment’s unease. He had seen Ella doing the stunt with the aurochs and some of the stories that de Sade had laid on him about her fighting Grigori were out there, but even so, as he saw it there was no way an unarmed bitch could handle four guys. It wasn’t natural.

But then
Ella
wasn’t natural.

The first guard leapt at her, swinging his club at her head as he did so. It didn’t connect. Ella did a backflip to avoid the blow, snatching up a large candlestick from a side table as she went. This she used to parry the guard’s second swing, then she grabbed the man by the throat and threw him across the room. Billy blinked. The guy must have weighed close to two hundred pounds but Ella tossed him around like a beach ball. He smashed up against a wall and then sagged unconscious to the floor.

It was a warning to the other guards. They came at Ella more carefully, circling her so that they could attack from more than one direction at once. Not that it did them any good. With a contemptuous ease she picked up a coffee table and hurled it at the two nearest guards. Billy wasn’t sure who was more surprised, him seeing his sister perform such a feat or the guards when they found themselves getting up close and personal with a large piece of flying mahogany. The end result was that odds of four to one had been shortened, in the space of twenty seconds or so, to evens.