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Where to download Pavel root sleeping. Pavel root - sleeping

New Babylon is the capital of the mighty Second Empire. Airships hover over the city, steam locomotives rush along the railways, and factory chimneys do not stop smoking for a moment. And yet the supremacy of science is not unconditional. Magic has not disappeared from the world, it is still dissolved in the blood of those who are called illustrious. It is not easy for staunch mechanists to accept this, but it is not in their power to change the established order of things.

Everything threatens to change with the death of the dowager empress, and Leopold Orso, radiant, more clearly than others feels the changes in the air. Distant lands beckon him, but the gloomy past holds him like a deadly trap. And it is impossible to predict in advance whether the whirlpool of future events will drag the restless radiant to the very bottom or throw him into an unimaginable height. And will there be any place to throw it at all ...

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Pavel Kornev

Heart wrapped in a tin can
Starts beating again.

Symphony group. Heart

Part one

Target. Silver bullets and a smokescreen

1

Any razor is essentially like a ritual sickle of the Celtic druids on the occasion of the renewal of nature. One movement of the hand - and the skin becomes clean, and the face becomes younger, as if the burden of the past days is cut off along with the shaved stubble.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror appraisingly and nodded, agreeing with my own reasoning. Then he shook off the foam from the razor into a bowl of warm water, ran the blade along the soapy cheek, and again - a clean streak.

I haven't bothered to shave for the past week, and so the sharpened metal seemed to take away time itself. I was getting younger right before my eyes.

However, the razor is called dangerous for a reason: if you get distracted, you cannot avoid a cut.

I didn't get distracted. I was taken away.

Expensive! - I heard from the bedroom. Have you already thought about our wedding day?

The hand trembled, the blade painlessly and very easily incised the skin, a drop of blood came out. With a doomed sigh, I covered the cut with a piece of paper and continued to clean myself up. Then he sprinkled cologne on his palms, patted his cheeks, and after that, without any haste, he left the bathroom.

Did you say something, dear? - With all possible equanimity, I turned to Liliana, who was lying on the bed with a ladies' magazine in her hands.

She stopped reading and repeated the question:

Have you thought about our wedding day yet?

Are you in position?

Oh Leo! The friend rolled her eyes. - You're just like my mom! She, too, constantly wonders if I'm in a position!

No, I'm not pregnant! Lily snorted indignantly. - Why do such thoughts?

Why talk about marriage? I retorted.

Do you want to marry me?

I wanted. And who in their right mind would not want to be legally married to a beautiful and intelligent heiress of a considerable fortune?

However, I was rich enough not to take such conventions into account. The society of the only daughter of the Marquis Montagu pleased me without any materialistic considerations.

Liliana brushed her black locks off her face and reminded herself, losing her patience:

Want! I started. - Of course I do. Just thinking about this significant date ...

Liar! - Lily easily saw through my cunning.

In fact, I just fell in love with you.

And now this was the purest truth. Liliana and I were together for three months, and my feelings for her only grew stronger day by day.

Sounds like a phrase from a romance novel? All right, but did I really… love her? Maybe. The main thing is that at the sight of Liliana my heart warmed, and the rest did not matter. Whoever says anything...

Liliana caught my thoughtful look and straightened her peignoir, covering her bare legs with a long hollow.

Leo, don't get distracted! she demanded.

I sat down on the bed next to her and kissed her.

Leo, no! Lily laughed as she pulled away. - Not now! Mom already says that I completely drove you!

Is that what he says? - I was amazed, in surprise even ceasing to stroke the slender girl's leg.

Well, not for me ... - Liliana was embarrassed. - Dad. I accidentally heard.

Overheard.

Leo, you're walking away from the conversation!

I straightened Lily's black hair, admired the beauty of her classic profile and admitted with a smile:

Yes, I have lost weight. So what?

Over the summer, I really dropped a dozen and a half kilograms, but at the same time I didn’t come close to my former painful thinness, continuing to remain big and powerful. He became not thin, but lean. And our love affair had absolutely nothing to do with these changes. The fresh air of the mountain resort, exercises with dumbbells and proper nutrition played a much greater role.

I also stopped being a werewolf.

Yes, the family curse had left me in that ill-fated basement in Montecalida, and shaving cuts were now healing as slowly as they heal on everyone else.

To be honest, I've been away from this for a long time.

Leo! Liliana waved her hand in front of my face. - Leo, you're in the clouds!

Yes darling?

It wasn't about your weight, it was about our wedding date!

I got up from the bed and went to the window. The Benjamin Franklin Hotel was built on a hill, and from its fourth floor there was a magnificent view of the historic part of the city. More precisely, it would have opened if the foggy haze had not tightened everything around. The September bad weather and the usual smog for the capital wrapped the houses in a gray cloth, from which only the silhouettes of the roofs and the high spiers of the palaces looked out.

About our wedding date? I said thoughtfully. Are you interested in any particular day?

Liliana rustled the pages of a magazine.

It is written here that Duke Logrin announced the engagement of his eldest daughter to Baron Alston. The wedding will take place on October 20, the day of the memory of Emperor Clement. A very symbolic date, Leo, isn't it?

I shrugged.

Any will suit me.

Even so?

Yes. Not here, not in New Babylon. Tomorrow we fly to the continent, remember? We can stay for a week in Madrid and from there move to Barcelona. How do you like this idea?

The idea is just wonderful! Liliana smiled, but immediately wrinkled her forehead. - Wait, Leo! Did you say tomorrow? Will I have time to see my parents?

Departure is scheduled for half past five in the evening, - I reassured her and turned around from the window. "Don't they know we're leaving yet?"

It wasn't a good time to report," Lily replied flippantly. - We'll tell you tomorrow. Are you going with me?

If needed…

Leo, don't worry! Mom and dad are crazy about you. They won't lock me up at home!

I really hope so, I smiled.

Although ... - Liliana sighed. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in New Babylon?”

I did not want. In the capital it was easier than ever to run into some old acquaintance by chance, and I did not at all want to again fall into the field of view of the Third Department, or worse, people from Her Majesty's entourage. And so I answered with one short categorical:

Liliana perfectly heard the hint of annoyance in my voice and tossed her head.

Leo, is something bothering you?

I sighed. A long time ago, it was worthwhile to dedicate Lily to some secrets of her past, but there was simply not enough spirit for this. I was afraid. Afraid to scare, afraid to push away. And so he was silent.

I did not reveal the true causes of my anxiety even now. He turned to the window and looked at the gray city, then with a heavy sigh he said:

The newspapers write that Her Majesty will pass away any day now. Her Highness's health is also not the strongest. The workers go on strike. The socialists demand the dissolution of the imperial council and the establishment of an elected senate. Anarchists hurled a bomb at the Minister of Justice, who narrowly escaped death. They shot at the judge of the High Imperial Court. They threw bottles of kerosene at the recruiting station. And so - every day. I want to be as far away from here as possible when everything goes to hell.

As you say darling. As you say.

I leaned over to kiss Liliana and warned:

I'll be back in two hours.

I'll be waiting, - she sighed, opened the magazine and suddenly asked: - Do you remember how we stopped here for the first time, in June?

Yes. And what?

I then lay in bed and waited for you to knock on my door. But she did not wait for the knock on the door and fell asleep.

I can knock right now,” I offered with a smile.

No! Lily disagreed. - Go about your business. And I will languish in anticipation of a knock. Are you going to knock?

I will definitely knock, - I promised, kissed my friend again and went to my own room, adjacent to Liliana's apartment.

Didn't stay there for long. I just changed my shirt for a fresh one, tied it neckerchief and put on a jacket. I did not take an umbrella or a raincoat - it was overcast, but dry outside. The rainy season has not yet arrived.

Pulling out the top drawer of the secretary, I took out my passport, wallet and Cerberus, stuffed them into my pockets and headed out.

Leo! Liliana called out to me.

Yes? I looked through the door of the adjoining room.

Come back soon. And do not forget - we are invited in the evening to Albert and Elizabeth Mary!

Don't worry, I don't plan to stay late," I calmly assured Liliana, although the invitation to dinner had completely slipped my mind.

After a triumphant performance in Montecalida, which ended in fainting and massive hallucinations, Albert Brandt gained notoriety as a real magician of the word and became a welcome guest at the capital's social events. Instead of returning to the New World, he rented a house somewhere near the academy and was preparing to stage his own play at the Imperial Theater.

To ignore the poet's invitation would be impolite of me to say the least - who knows when I'll be able to return to New Babylon? - and all that remained was to hope that all the metropolitan bohemia would not gather to visit Albert.

Heart wrapped in a tin can
Starts beating again.

Symphony group. Heart

Part one
Target. Silver bullets and a smokescreen

1

I looked at my reflection in the mirror appraisingly and nodded, agreeing with my own reasoning. Then he shook off the foam from the razor into a basin of warm water, ran the blade along the soapy cheek, and again - a clean streak.

I haven't bothered to shave for the past week, and so the sharpened metal seemed to take away time itself. I was getting younger right before my eyes.

However, the razor is called dangerous for a reason: if you get distracted, you cannot avoid a cut.

I didn't get distracted. I was taken away.

- Expensive! heard from the bedroom. Have you already thought about our wedding day?

“Did you say something, dear?” - with all possible equanimity, I turned to Liliana, who was lying on the bed with a ladies' magazine in her hands.

She stopped reading and repeated the question:

Have you already thought about our wedding day?

- Are you in position?

- Oh, Leo! The friend rolled her eyes. "You're just like my mom!" She, too, constantly wonders if I'm in a position!

No, I'm not pregnant! Lily snorted indignantly. - Why do you have such thoughts?

Why talk about marriage? I retorted.

"Would you like to marry me?"

I wanted. And who in their right mind would not want to be legally married to a beautiful and intelligent heiress of a considerable fortune?

However, I was rich enough not to take such conventions into account. The society of the only daughter of the Marquis Montagu pleased me without any materialistic considerations.

Liliana brushed her black locks off her face and reminded herself, losing her patience:

- Want! I started. “Of course I do. Just thinking about this significant date ...

- Liar! – Lily easily saw through my cunning.

“Actually, I just fell in love with you.

And now this was the purest truth. Liliana and I were together for three months, and my feelings for her only grew stronger day by day.

Sounds like a phrase from a romance novel? All right, but did I really… love her? Maybe. The main thing is that at the sight of Liliana my heart warmed, and the rest did not matter.

Whoever says anything...

Liliana caught my thoughtful look and straightened her peignoir, covering her bare legs with a long hollow.

Leo, don't get distracted! she demanded.

I sat down on the bed next to her and kissed her.

Leo, no! Lily laughed as she pulled away. - Not now! Mom already says that I completely drove you!

- Is that what he says? - I was amazed, in surprise I even stopped stroking the slender girl's leg.

“Well, not for me…” Liliana was embarrassed. - Dad. I accidentally heard.

- Overheard.

Leo, you're avoiding the conversation!

I straightened Lily's black hair, admired the beauty of her classic profile and admitted with a smile:

Yes, I have lost weight. So what?

I also stopped being a werewolf.

Yes, the family curse had left me in that ill-fated basement in Montecalida, and shaving cuts were now healing as slowly as they heal on everyone else.

To be honest, I've been away from this for a long time.

– Leo! Liliana waved her hand in front of my face. “Leo, you have your head in the clouds!”

- Yes darling?

- It was not about your weight, but about the date of our wedding!

“About the date of our wedding?” I thought thoughtfully. Are you interested in any particular day?

Liliana rustled the pages of a magazine.

“It is written here that Duke Loughrin has announced the engagement of his eldest daughter to Baron Alston. The wedding will take place on October 20, the day of the memory of Emperor Clement. A very symbolic date, Leo, isn't it?

I shrugged.

- I'm fine with any.

- Even so?

- Yes. Not here, not in New Babylon. Tomorrow we fly to the continent, remember? We can stay for a week in Madrid and from there move to Barcelona. How do you like this idea?

- The idea is just wonderful! Liliana smiled, but immediately wrinkled her forehead. - Wait, Leo! Did you say tomorrow? Will I have time to see my parents?

“The flight is scheduled for half past six in the evening,” I reassured her and turned around from the window. "Don't they know we're leaving yet?"

“There wasn’t a good time to tell,” Lily replied flippantly. - We'll tell you tomorrow. Are you going with me?

- If necessary...

Leo, don't worry! Mom and dad are crazy about you. They won't lock me up at home!

“I really hope so,” I smiled.

“Although…” Liliana sighed. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in New Babylon?”

I did not want. In the capital, it was easier than ever to run into some old acquaintance by chance, and I did not at all want to again fall into the field of view of the Third Department, or worse, people from Her Majesty's entourage. And so I answered with one short categorical:

Liliana perfectly heard the hint of annoyance in my voice and tossed her head.

"Leo, is something bothering you?"

I did not reveal the true causes of my anxiety even now. He turned to the window and looked at the gray city, then with a heavy sigh he said:

“The newspapers say that Her Majesty will pass away any day now. Her Highness's health is also not the strongest. The workers go on strike. The socialists demand the dissolution of the imperial council and the establishment of an elected senate. Anarchists hurled a bomb at the Minister of Justice, who narrowly escaped death. They shot at the judge of the High Imperial Court. They threw bottles of kerosene at the recruiting station. And so - every day. I want to be as far away from here as possible when everything goes to hell.

- As you say darling. As you say.

I leaned over to kiss Liliana and warned:

- I'll be back in two hours.

“I'll be waiting,” she sighed, opened the magazine and suddenly asked: “Do you remember how we stopped here for the first time, in June?”

- Yes. And what?

“I was lying in bed then, waiting for you to knock on my door. But she did not wait for the knock on the door and fell asleep.

“I can knock right now,” I offered with a smile.

- No! Lily disagreed. - Go about your business. And I will languish in anticipation of a knock. Are you going to knock?

“I will certainly knock,” I promised, kissed my friend again and went to my own room, adjacent to Liliana's apartment.

Didn't stay there for long. He just changed his shirt for a fresh one, tied a neckerchief and put on a jacket. I did not take an umbrella or a raincoat - it was overcast, but dry outside. The rainy season has not yet arrived.

Pulling out the top drawer of the secretary, I took out my passport, wallet and Cerberus, stuffed them into my pockets and headed out.

– Leo! Liliana called out to me.

- Yes? I looked through the door of the adjoining room.

- Come back soon. And don't forget - we are invited in the evening to Albert and Elizabeth-Mary!

“Don't worry, I don't plan to stay late,” I calmly assured Liliana, although the invitation to dinner had completely slipped my mind.

I took a bowler hat from the shelf and went out into the corridor. He decided not to use the elevator, instead heading for the stairs, contemplating what trinket to give Albert as a keepsake.

Passing by the bellboy's desk, I greeted the sleepy clerk with a careless nod, went down to the first floor and went to the porter's desk, but I was ahead of me by a nimble middle-aged gentleman, thin and red-haired.

“To Mr. Witstein,” he said in a clear Irish accent, and when the porter opened the magazine, he introduced himself: “Lynch.” Sean Lynch.

The clerk looked up the name on the guest list and silently pointed to the elevator, then with an on-duty smile turned to me:

- How can I serve, Mr. Shatunov?

I caught myself looking too intently after the red-haired Irishman, started up and put the room key on the counter.

“Just wanted to leave the key!”

– Will there be any wishes?

“No, nothing,” I shook my head and, nervously waving my hand, walked through the lobby.

The sounded surname frankly unsettled, because it was definitely about Abraham Witshtein, vice-president of the Banking House of the same name. A chance meeting with him in a hotel lobby threatened to easily and irrevocably destroy my incognito.

Devil! It was not worth succumbing to Liliana's persuasion and staying at the Benjamin Franklin again! Damn this sentimentality!

I grimaced, pushed the door open with a nervous push, and stepped out into the street to the porter dressed in colorful livery. In response to the smile on duty, I smiled no less formally, took a quick look at the Imperial Square crowded with idle people and put dark glasses on my nose.

I was distracted only for a moment, but this brief moment decided everything.

- Don `t move! Hands up! - came from behind, and I froze at half a step.

My hand darted by itself to the side pocket of my jacket, and I barely managed to pull it aside before the strong guys in civilian clothes, surrounded from all sides, opened fire. They held their revolvers at the ready, their fingers frozen on the triggers.

And the detective behind him without delay issued a new order:

- On knees! Hands behind head!

I hesitated, but immediately decided that not wanting to get my pants dirty on the dust of the paving stones was hardly a worthy reason to experience the effect of an electric discharger. The only thing he allowed himself to do was to kneel down without too much haste, in a vain attempt to maintain what little dignity he had left.

Somewhere nearby, a gunpowder engine roared furiously, and a clumsy police armored car suddenly briskly rolled out of the alley into the square. The onlookers jumped in different directions, and the paperboy almost fell under the wheels, hurrying to roll the handcart aside.

The detective stepped up from behind, wrapped my hands behind my back, and snapping the steel bracelets of the handcuffs around my wrists, announced with a certain solemnity in his voice:

- Leopold Orso! You're under arrest for murder!

I breathed out a silent curse.

The past still caught up with me. And, as is usually the case, it came at the most inopportune moment.

- Get up!

Awkwardly, because of my hands cuffed behind my back, I got up from my knees and clarified:

And who did I kill?

- Ask the investigator about it! - followed by a laconic answer, and I was pushed into the dark interior of the armored car.

2

The prisoner is a creature without rights. From the moment of detention and until arrival at the police station, he simply falls out of the legal field, and absolutely anything can happen to him during this time. To the point of falling off the bridge into the murky waters of the Yarden. And almost every second detainee is brought to experience hand twisting, blows to the kidneys and chokeholds.

But not in my case. The plainclothes detectives crowded into the armored car did not ask a single question during the entire trip, they only kept their revolvers at gunpoint. They seemed to be afraid that I would break the chain that bound the bracelets of the handcuffs and pounce on them with my fists.

Fear. I felt their fear.

The guards were six to one, but they were frankly afraid of me, and it was really strange.

Have you heard about my talent? I highly doubt...

Be that as it may, I did not make the slightest attempt to talk the detectives in order to clarify the details of the charge, and silently sat on the bench. I just didn't want to give the nervous guys a reason to make holes in me. I know for sure that they would open fire to kill without the slightest hesitation.

The gunpowder engine of the armored car sneezed measuredly, powerful wheels smoothed out the uneven pavement, and only when there were very serious potholes did I shake on the bench from one escort to another. And then the daylight faded, the grayness of the gloomy sky behind the bars of the side windows was replaced by the twilight of the hangar, and the heavy self-propelled carriage stopped.

The armored car took me to the garage of the metropolitan police department - in the jargon of the metropolitan criminals, this was called "playing the" Box ".

The detective on the right unhooked the chain that held the handcuffs to the floor. The detective on the left opened the side door.

- To the exit! ordered the policeman opposite.

Oh, how many of you, guys, for me alone ...

But then it only got worse. Constables armed with self-loading carbines and four-barreled lupars were waiting for me in the spacious garage. My ankles were immediately shackled with leg irons, and with the strum of steel links, I trotted down the corridor like a particularly dangerous recidivist.

The building of the police department, huge and monumental, occupied a whole block and even went several floors underground. A random person could wander through its tangled nooks and crannies in search of the right door for hours, and among the constables there were many scary stories about colleagues who went missing by simply turning down the wrong corridor.

To be honest, I was seriously afraid of sharing their fate, but not even a couple of minutes had passed before I was led into a small room without windows, flooded with dazzlingly harsh light from electric lamps.

The search did not take long, if it could be called a search at all. I simply had to take off all my clothes, and instead put on the prisoner's striped robe. Personal belongings were put into a canvas bag without inspection and sealed with a wax seal.

The next stop was at the photo studio. There I was seated on a wooden chair - with its numerous clamps and fasteners it definitely resembled an electric chair - and the phlegmatic master fixed his head in a vise in order to take a frontal photograph, and then a profile shot followed. After that, the photographer captured all my tattoos, and the police clerk took my fingerprints, smearing the skin with black ink and forcing me to put my palms on a sheet of thick yellowish paper.

The subsequent tedium with measuring height and compiling a list of special signs took no less than an hour, and it became clear that, unlike past detentions, now everything is serious and the registration is in full accordance with the protocol.

What devil?!

But even though I was shaking from nervous overstrain, I waited a while to pester my former colleagues with questions. Soon. Soon everything will clear up by itself. And, perhaps, I will still regret that I did not remain in blissful ignorance.

But one thing was already clear: the detention had nothing to do with my summer troubles in Montecalida, since Thomas Smith had all charges of involvement in the murder of a Hindu bartender dropped, and the death of the Tacinis was declared an accident at the stage of preliminary investigation. The coroner's report made no mention of suicide or bullet wounds, only mentioning the numerous injuries they sustained as a result of the collapse of the dilapidated building.

The shock passed, fears fell like a heavy burden. It was becoming increasingly difficult to contain the tremor, but I stubbornly clenched my teeth and began to wait for the end of the formal procedures. One thing was clear for sure: this was an official detention, and not at all the arbitrariness of people from Her Majesty's entourage.

It was not the Life Guards who got to me at all, and this left good chances for a successful outcome. And no matter how serious the accusation is going to be presented, the rich are treated in a special way. I was no longer a penniless beggar, I could afford to hire the most famous lawyers in the capital. At worst, the process will drag on for years, at best, I will be released this evening.

I really wanted to believe it...

After the photo workshop, under the measured clatter of shod boots, the guards led me to the interrogation room. There, the leg irons were attached to a ring embedded in the wall, and the handcuffs were connected with a steel chain to a massive table, whose legs were screwed to the floor.

The ceiling lamps shone directly into my eyes, but there was nothing to see here anyway. Blank walls with damp and cracked plaster, dusty floors, shabby furniture. If you do not take into account electric lighting, in such scenery the interrogation of a criminal could take place a hundred or two hundred years ago.

Only the colossus of the phonograph in the far corner stood out from the general row. In the cell, he seemed completely out of place.

I squinted at the recording machine for a while, then leaned back against the uncomfortable, hard back of my chair and closed my eyes. He did not open them, even when the front door swung open to the creak of rusty hinges.

There was simply no need for this. I recognized the newcomer with closed eyelids. The aroma of his cologne and the delicate smell of expensive cigarettes, which suddenly interrupted the musty dampness of the cell, turned out to be too characteristic.

“Long time no see, Inspector!” I smiled at my old friend.

- Chief Inspector! - Moran corrected me, throwing a plump folder with documents on the edge of the table. “Chief Inspector, Mr. Orso. Senior. Don't you know the difference?

Bastian Moran hasn't changed a bit since our last meeting. His thin face was still marked by an aristocratic pallor, and his pomaded hair, sharply drawn eyebrows, and thin lips gave him an uncharacteristic policeman look of decadent dandy. Well-groomed hands fully corresponded to the refined image, and fashion suit and the expensive shirt with diamond cufflinks did not let us down at all, but everything was decidedly spoiled by the cold gray eyes of the inveterate murderer.

A cop - he is a cop. It's not an insult, it's like a hard labor stigma. Work leaves its mark on all of us.

- All is ready! - announced the assistant, inserting a new roller into the phonograph.

- Start recording! Moran ordered.

The police clerk started the machine, and under a low bass hum it began to tremble and creak barely audibly. The light in the chamber flickered several times, but, to my great disappointment, the network withstood the increased load and there was no short circuit.

The assistant left the cell, and I, well aware that every word I said would fall into the protocol, could not resist the hairpin:

“Don’t stop picking up Her Majesty’s respectable subjects on the streets, and it’s not far to go down ... Chief Inspector.

Bastian Moran arched a sharp eyebrow in silent astonishment.

- Respectable? he said with a show of surprise in his voice. “There is only one respectable subject of Her Majesty in this room, and it is not you, Leopold Orso. Or should you be called Lev Shatunov?

The chief inspector took out my new passport from the folder and threw it on the table with a contemptuous grin. I just shrugged my shoulders in response.

- Call it whatever you like.

But my calmness hardly made any impression on Moran. He twisted his thin lips in a sly smile and said:

- A respectable person does not need forged documents.

“So I was put in shackles just because of that?” I jingled with a steel chain of handcuffs. - Remind me of the number of the imperial code on national passports? Don't forget, Chief Inspector, my grandfather was Russian. He took the surname Orso when he was awarded the nobility ...

And now I'm not bluffing at all. Documents in the name of Lev Borisovich Shatunov went through all the registers initially, and subsequently it was not difficult for my attorney to draw up and retroactively attach to the case an official request for a new passport.

It cost a small fortune, but it was worth it.

Not to say that Bastian Moran changed his face at these words, but he took on an unusually puzzled look.

– Leopold, do you realize that this statement is extremely easy to verify? the Chief Inspector asked.

“The sooner you send a telegram to Petrograd, the sooner you will receive an answer,” I answered calmly. “And the lesser sum my attorney will charge the police department for unlawful detention.

Pavel Kornev

Heart wrapped in a tin can
Starts beating again.

Symphony group. Heart

Part one

Target. Silver bullets and a smokescreen

I haven't bothered to shave for the past week, and so the sharpened metal seemed to take away time itself. I was getting younger right before my eyes.

However, the razor is called dangerous for a reason: if you get distracted, you cannot avoid a cut.

I didn't get distracted. I was taken away.

- Expensive! heard from the bedroom. Have you already thought about our wedding day?

“Did you say something, dear?” - with all possible equanimity, I turned to Liliana, who was lying on the bed with a ladies' magazine in her hands.

She stopped reading and repeated the question:

Have you already thought about our wedding day?

- Are you in position?

- Oh, Leo! The friend rolled her eyes. "You're just like my mom!" She, too, constantly wonders if I'm in a position!

No, I'm not pregnant! Lily snorted indignantly. - Why do you have such thoughts?

Why talk about marriage? I retorted.

"Would you like to marry me?"

I wanted. And who in their right mind would not want to be legally married to a beautiful and intelligent heiress of a considerable fortune?

However, I was rich enough not to take such conventions into account. The society of the only daughter of the Marquis Montagu pleased me without any materialistic considerations.

Liliana brushed her black locks off her face and reminded herself, losing her patience:

- Want! I started. “Of course I do. Just thinking about this significant date ...

- Liar! – Lily easily saw through my cunning.

“Actually, I just fell in love with you.

And now this was the purest truth. Liliana and I were together for three months, and my feelings for her only grew stronger day by day.

Liliana caught my thoughtful look and straightened her peignoir, covering her bare legs with a long hollow.

Leo, don't get distracted! she demanded.

I sat down on the bed next to her and kissed her.

Leo, no! Lily laughed as she pulled away. - Not now! Mom already says that I completely drove you!

- Is that what he says? - I was amazed, in surprise I even stopped stroking the slender girl's leg.

“Well, not for me…” Liliana was embarrassed. - Dad. I accidentally heard.

- Overheard.

Leo, you're avoiding the conversation!

I straightened Lily's black hair, admired the beauty of her classic profile and admitted with a smile:

Yes, I have lost weight. So what?

I also stopped being a werewolf.

Yes, the family curse had left me in that ill-fated basement in Montecalida, and shaving cuts were now healing as slowly as they heal on everyone else.

To be honest, I've been away from this for a long time.

– Leo! Liliana waved her hand in front of my face. “Leo, you have your head in the clouds!”

- Yes darling?

- It was not about your weight, but about the date of our wedding!

“About the date of our wedding?” I thought thoughtfully. Are you interested in any particular day?

Liliana rustled the pages of a magazine.

I shrugged.

- I'm fine with any.

- Even so?

- Yes. Not here, not in New Babylon. Tomorrow we fly to the continent, remember? We can stay for a week in Madrid and from there move to Barcelona. How do you like this idea?

- The idea is just wonderful! Liliana smiled, but immediately wrinkled her forehead. - Wait, Leo! Did you say tomorrow? Will I have time to see my parents?

“The flight is scheduled for half past six in the evening,” I reassured her and turned around from the window. "Don't they know we're leaving yet?"

“There wasn’t a good time to tell,” Lily replied flippantly. - We'll tell you tomorrow. Are you going with me?

- If necessary...

Leo, don't worry! Mom and dad are crazy about you. They won't lock me up at home!

“I really hope so,” I smiled.

“Although…” Liliana sighed. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in New Babylon?”

Liliana perfectly heard the hint of annoyance in my voice and tossed her head.

"Leo, is something bothering you?"

I did not reveal the true causes of my anxiety even now. He turned to the window and looked at the gray city, then with a heavy sigh he said:

- As you say darling. As you say.

I leaned over to kiss Liliana and warned:

- I'll be back in two hours.

“I'll be waiting,” she sighed, opened the magazine and suddenly asked: “Do you remember how we stopped here for the first time, in June?”

- Yes. And what?

“I was lying in bed then, waiting for you to knock on my door. But she did not wait for the knock on the door and fell asleep.

“I can knock right now,” I offered with a smile.

- No! Lily disagreed. - Go about your business. And I will languish in anticipation of a knock. Are you going to knock?

“I will certainly knock,” I promised, kissed my friend again and went to my own room, adjacent to Liliana's apartment.

Pulling out the top drawer of the secretary, I took out my passport, wallet and Cerberus, stuffed them into my pockets and headed out.

– Leo! Liliana called out to me.

- Yes? I looked through the door of the adjoining room.

- Come back soon. And don't forget - we are invited in the evening to Albert and Elizabeth-Mary!

“Don't worry, I don't plan to stay late,” I calmly assured Liliana, although the invitation to dinner had completely slipped my mind.

New Babylon is the capital of the mighty Second Empire. Airships hover over the city, steam locomotives rush along the railways, and factory chimneys do not stop smoking for a moment, and yet the supremacy of science is not unconditional. Magic has not disappeared from the world, it is still dissolved in the blood of those who are called illustrious. It is not easy for staunch mechanists to accept this, but it is not in their power to change the established order of things.

Everything threatens to change with the death of the dowager empress, and Leopold Orso, radiant, more clearly than others feels the changes in the air. Distant lands beckon him, but the gloomy past holds him in a deadly trap and it is impossible to predict in advance whether the whirlpool of future events of the restless radiant will drag him to the very bottom or throw him into unimaginable heights. And will there be any place to throw it at all ...

Where to buy the book "Sleeper"

Additional information about the book "Sleeper":

"Sleeping" is a continuation of the story of Leopold Orso, begun by the two-volume "Shining" and "Heartless" and the separate novel "Fallen" (Shining 4). Main character books - radiant, he has the talent to translate other people's fears into reality with the help of his own imagination. A dark gift and a family curse have shaken his nerves, but now he is ready to begin. new life. But will she be to his liking?

The World of All-Beneficent Electricity is similar to ours at the beginning of the twentieth century, but there are plenty of differences as well. Civilization froze at a crossroads. The era of steam does not want to give up its positions, and the era of electricity is just as inexorably approaching. And there's still magic! Once upon a time, the Fallen reigned supreme in that reality, and although their power fell half a century ago, the legacy of supernatural creatures still continues to corrode the Second Empire, which united people.

The accumulated contradictions, coupled with social inequality, make the situation explosive, and this circumstance will not fail to take advantage of a variety of forces in their fierce struggle for power and world domination.

As an addition, you can read the interlude "Smoke, lenses and Maxim's patent silencer", which can be considered a kind of prologue to "Sleeper". The action of the story takes place in the world of All-Good Electricity. All spoilers from it are currently cleaned out, you will find the story of one murder and acquaintance with one ambiguous inhabitant of New Babylon.