Anastasia and I were in love and I was deliriously happy. My elation may have simply been the result of the mysterious drug sent by Luke. The best way to thrill a cat is to choke it with cream.
"Want to go to a concert?" I asked Anastasia as we lay lazily fondling one another in bed after we had taken Luke's pills. "I'm supposed to meet some friends at Holle at midnight. Old Nick and the Fallen Angels are playing." Anastasia nodded. We got dressed. As Anastasia drove, rather slower than her usual maniacal pace, to the club, I asked her casually if she had heard of someone named Nina Hamidi.
"She's my favorite drug designer," Anastasia replied. She looked over at me curiously before returning her full attention to the road. "How could you possibly have heard of her?"
"A friend of mine in Kalifornia knows her."
"Do you want to meet her?" Anastasia swivelled the Ferrari into a side street after making sure that no other car was approaching. "I haven't seen Nina in a few days. Let's go talk to Saure. He'll know where we can find her."
Saure greeted us at Der Mauer with less than usual effervescence. "Princess, you must not be seen here tonight!" He sounded terrified as he steered us away from the searchlit cavern. "Baron Axel is here."
"My dear husband!" Anastasia clapped her hands happily. "Where is he? I haven't seen him in ages. Dear, let me introduce you to him."
The pudgy little man stared at her in disbelief. "Princess!" he remonstrated. "Baron Axel swore he would skin you alive the next time you met! Don't you remember what he did to your portrait? He stabbed it through the heart just because he couldn't find you to stab in person!"
Anastasia sighed. "It's such a shame that people can't let old times alone," she said. "Why can't we all just be friends?" I nodded in sincere agreement. Saure looked disgusted. "Saure, my dear, where can we find Nina Hamidi?"
Saure looked around nervously. "Princess, she swore me to secrecy. She's gone to England. It was a special job, she said, a real opportunity for her. She said to apologize that she won't be able to supply you for a while."
Anastasia smiled winsomely. "It is inconvenient but I'm glad for her. Give Axel my love, please, dear Saure. 'Bye!" I smiled at the dear old codger as well. We left the club smiling. We smiled at the ex-border guard who had parked the Ferrari. We even smiled at the man in the beige trench coat who had been following me around. The poor fellow's head was swathed in bandages and his leg was still in plaster. He cowered back in inexplicable alarm when he saw us and hit his elbow with a sickening thud against the steel door of the warehouse. I felt sorry for him.
Anastasia drove sedately towards Holle. She stopped when traffic lights were changing to yellow. A grungy young couple stood in the middle of the road, waiting for the flow of cars to ease. Anastasia braked for them and graciously acknowledged their grateful nod. When we reached the club, Anastasia parked the Ferrari carefully, leaving plenty of room for any car that might occupy the adjacent space. We tipped the doorman generously and walked into the club. Two young boys saw us enter and screamed. They came up to us and jabbered wildly. One of them pulled down his snug fitting lederhosen and showed off the angry red weals on his plump little buttocks. Anastasia apologized nicely, kissed both of them on the cheek, and stuffed money into their hands. I patted the little fellows on the head.
The club was packed. A crowd of young people in black leather jackets stood elbow to elbow in total silence, eyes dolefully ringed with black makeup in dead white faces. The band played a dirge under spectral spotlights. The famous underground musician, Old Nick, swayed from side to side, his lean creased face furrowed in sad concentration, as he teased melancholy strains from his guitar. His lank black hair hung limply down to his thin shoulders. Safety pins dangled from the noses and cheeks of the other Fallen Angels as they played. A ravaged young blonde stood at a microphone in the center of the stage. In a deep husky voice she chanted slowly:
God sat on his throne
Lucifer by his side
And He let out a groan
When he saw how men died
He asked God why we
Poor things were born
To feel and to see
And to wander forlorn
He wanted to help us
He gave us the fruit
But God made a fuss
And gave Him the boot
Jealous as ever
God threw Him down
But he couldn't sever
With his ugly frown
The bond which ties
The Devil and men
Is based on sighs
Beyond God's ken
God has only the threat of pain
Driving us, like Job, insane
He plays with me like a broken toy
Hail, Satan, who gives me joy!
Hail, Satan, who gives me joy!
Hail, Satan, who gives me joy!
The singer broke off and stood slumped over the microphone. The club rang with the deafening cheers of the crowd and mascara dripped down many cheeks. "Wasn't she wonderful?" Immanuel asked. I turned.
"Who is she?"
"I don't know," Man replied. "I've never seen her play with Old Nick and the Fallen Angels before. Let me ask around." He disappeared into the crowd.
I looked around at the sad young faces and felt a tidal wave of pity and joy sweep away the last vestiges of condescending irritation from my soul. The safety pins and the absurd haircuts could not stop me from loving these young animals of my species, these bruised products of my culture. Anastasia took my hand and raised it to her lips. We stood in a shimmering pool of peace and love.
"I dreamed of her," Anastasia whispered. "When I was sleeping this evening. She didn't look like that singer. But I know it was the same one."
"Were you frightened?" I asked gently, remembering how scared she was of losing her body while her spirit wandered.
"That's the strange thing," Anastasia replied, nestling closer to me. "I wasn't scared at all. She is very strong but she didn't want anything from me. She was offering me something I wanted very badly. She led me by the hand towards a dark woman..."
Immanuel returned with a beer. We took swigs of the beer in turn and stood around in companionable silence. "Nobody seems to have seen her before," Man said eventually. "It's the first time anybody has heard her sing with Old Nick and the Fallen Angels."
"She has an amazing voice," Anastasia said. "I wonder if she has recorded anything. I am sure that Stash would like to use her for the soundtrack of the movie."
"I don't know if she has a record out," Man replied. "I just heard Old Nick say to someone that she is from Prague. I think he said that her name is Lucie Settonova."
I felt completely at ease, even relaxed. "Settonova, eh?" I remarked casually. "I think I know her. Do you suppose I could have a word with her?"
We politely made our way through the crowd eventually but it was too late. The ravaged blonde from Prague had disappeared. All that we could find out was that she had left the club in a hurry, mumbling something about having to go to the train station.
"Now why does she always have to go to the train station?" I complained conversationally. "Every time Lucy Setton wants to change bodies, she goes to the train station. Is it some sort of fetish?"
"A good place to meet someone," Anastasia declared.
"An urgent appointment with her murderer."
Anastasia closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "I can see her again in my mind's eye," she murmured calmly. "She is very close to him. He has his arm around her. They are walking into a park together. He is fondling her. She lets him. She is giving him a piece of rope. He is knotting it into a noose and putting it around her neck and drawing it tight..." Anastasia jerked, shuddered, and heaved for breath. After an eternity, she opened her glittering green eyes and smiled beatifically. "Once again she is with the dark woman. She is free."
"Wow." Man stared goggle-eyed at Anastasia. "That was some piece of acting."
"Thank you." Anastasia smiled and bowed. "But it was not acting."
"Did you get a look at the killer?" I asked.
"Not clearly. A bulky man." Anastasia looked into my eyes. "You know him."
I closed my eyes and saw the glint of steel teeth in a savage smile. "Rasputin."
"This is too weird." Immanuel seemed shaken. "You know the murderer?"
"It was not a murder," I said dreamily. "Lucy uses Rasputin to get rid of inconvenient bodies. Set her spirit free. And now she's winging off to grab another body. But what do you do with their spirits, angel? What happens to their spirits when you grab their bodies?"
"Maybe you keep them," Anastasia replied blithely. "Like trophies. Souvenirs. Memories."
"What are the two of you talking about?" Immanuel asked, baffled.
"Oh, nothing." I smiled. "The devil's back in Eden and all's right with the world. Peace and love, everyone."
"Want to go to a concert?" I asked Anastasia as we lay lazily fondling one another in bed after we had taken Luke's pills. "I'm supposed to meet some friends at Holle at midnight. Old Nick and the Fallen Angels are playing." Anastasia nodded. We got dressed. As Anastasia drove, rather slower than her usual maniacal pace, to the club, I asked her casually if she had heard of someone named Nina Hamidi.
"She's my favorite drug designer," Anastasia replied. She looked over at me curiously before returning her full attention to the road. "How could you possibly have heard of her?"
"A friend of mine in Kalifornia knows her."
"Do you want to meet her?" Anastasia swivelled the Ferrari into a side street after making sure that no other car was approaching. "I haven't seen Nina in a few days. Let's go talk to Saure. He'll know where we can find her."
Saure greeted us at Der Mauer with less than usual effervescence. "Princess, you must not be seen here tonight!" He sounded terrified as he steered us away from the searchlit cavern. "Baron Axel is here."
"My dear husband!" Anastasia clapped her hands happily. "Where is he? I haven't seen him in ages. Dear, let me introduce you to him."
The pudgy little man stared at her in disbelief. "Princess!" he remonstrated. "Baron Axel swore he would skin you alive the next time you met! Don't you remember what he did to your portrait? He stabbed it through the heart just because he couldn't find you to stab in person!"
Anastasia sighed. "It's such a shame that people can't let old times alone," she said. "Why can't we all just be friends?" I nodded in sincere agreement. Saure looked disgusted. "Saure, my dear, where can we find Nina Hamidi?"
Saure looked around nervously. "Princess, she swore me to secrecy. She's gone to England. It was a special job, she said, a real opportunity for her. She said to apologize that she won't be able to supply you for a while."
Anastasia smiled winsomely. "It is inconvenient but I'm glad for her. Give Axel my love, please, dear Saure. 'Bye!" I smiled at the dear old codger as well. We left the club smiling. We smiled at the ex-border guard who had parked the Ferrari. We even smiled at the man in the beige trench coat who had been following me around. The poor fellow's head was swathed in bandages and his leg was still in plaster. He cowered back in inexplicable alarm when he saw us and hit his elbow with a sickening thud against the steel door of the warehouse. I felt sorry for him.
Anastasia drove sedately towards Holle. She stopped when traffic lights were changing to yellow. A grungy young couple stood in the middle of the road, waiting for the flow of cars to ease. Anastasia braked for them and graciously acknowledged their grateful nod. When we reached the club, Anastasia parked the Ferrari carefully, leaving plenty of room for any car that might occupy the adjacent space. We tipped the doorman generously and walked into the club. Two young boys saw us enter and screamed. They came up to us and jabbered wildly. One of them pulled down his snug fitting lederhosen and showed off the angry red weals on his plump little buttocks. Anastasia apologized nicely, kissed both of them on the cheek, and stuffed money into their hands. I patted the little fellows on the head.
The club was packed. A crowd of young people in black leather jackets stood elbow to elbow in total silence, eyes dolefully ringed with black makeup in dead white faces. The band played a dirge under spectral spotlights. The famous underground musician, Old Nick, swayed from side to side, his lean creased face furrowed in sad concentration, as he teased melancholy strains from his guitar. His lank black hair hung limply down to his thin shoulders. Safety pins dangled from the noses and cheeks of the other Fallen Angels as they played. A ravaged young blonde stood at a microphone in the center of the stage. In a deep husky voice she chanted slowly:
God sat on his throne
Lucifer by his side
And He let out a groan
When he saw how men died
He asked God why we
Poor things were born
To feel and to see
And to wander forlorn
He wanted to help us
He gave us the fruit
But God made a fuss
And gave Him the boot
Jealous as ever
God threw Him down
But he couldn't sever
With his ugly frown
The bond which ties
The Devil and men
Is based on sighs
Beyond God's ken
God has only the threat of pain
Driving us, like Job, insane
He plays with me like a broken toy
Hail, Satan, who gives me joy!
Hail, Satan, who gives me joy!
Hail, Satan, who gives me joy!
The singer broke off and stood slumped over the microphone. The club rang with the deafening cheers of the crowd and mascara dripped down many cheeks. "Wasn't she wonderful?" Immanuel asked. I turned.
"Who is she?"
"I don't know," Man replied. "I've never seen her play with Old Nick and the Fallen Angels before. Let me ask around." He disappeared into the crowd.
I looked around at the sad young faces and felt a tidal wave of pity and joy sweep away the last vestiges of condescending irritation from my soul. The safety pins and the absurd haircuts could not stop me from loving these young animals of my species, these bruised products of my culture. Anastasia took my hand and raised it to her lips. We stood in a shimmering pool of peace and love.
"I dreamed of her," Anastasia whispered. "When I was sleeping this evening. She didn't look like that singer. But I know it was the same one."
"Were you frightened?" I asked gently, remembering how scared she was of losing her body while her spirit wandered.
"That's the strange thing," Anastasia replied, nestling closer to me. "I wasn't scared at all. She is very strong but she didn't want anything from me. She was offering me something I wanted very badly. She led me by the hand towards a dark woman..."
Immanuel returned with a beer. We took swigs of the beer in turn and stood around in companionable silence. "Nobody seems to have seen her before," Man said eventually. "It's the first time anybody has heard her sing with Old Nick and the Fallen Angels."
"She has an amazing voice," Anastasia said. "I wonder if she has recorded anything. I am sure that Stash would like to use her for the soundtrack of the movie."
"I don't know if she has a record out," Man replied. "I just heard Old Nick say to someone that she is from Prague. I think he said that her name is Lucie Settonova."
I felt completely at ease, even relaxed. "Settonova, eh?" I remarked casually. "I think I know her. Do you suppose I could have a word with her?"
We politely made our way through the crowd eventually but it was too late. The ravaged blonde from Prague had disappeared. All that we could find out was that she had left the club in a hurry, mumbling something about having to go to the train station.
"Now why does she always have to go to the train station?" I complained conversationally. "Every time Lucy Setton wants to change bodies, she goes to the train station. Is it some sort of fetish?"
"A good place to meet someone," Anastasia declared.
"An urgent appointment with her murderer."
Anastasia closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "I can see her again in my mind's eye," she murmured calmly. "She is very close to him. He has his arm around her. They are walking into a park together. He is fondling her. She lets him. She is giving him a piece of rope. He is knotting it into a noose and putting it around her neck and drawing it tight..." Anastasia jerked, shuddered, and heaved for breath. After an eternity, she opened her glittering green eyes and smiled beatifically. "Once again she is with the dark woman. She is free."
"Wow." Man stared goggle-eyed at Anastasia. "That was some piece of acting."
"Thank you." Anastasia smiled and bowed. "But it was not acting."
"Did you get a look at the killer?" I asked.
"Not clearly. A bulky man." Anastasia looked into my eyes. "You know him."
I closed my eyes and saw the glint of steel teeth in a savage smile. "Rasputin."
"This is too weird." Immanuel seemed shaken. "You know the murderer?"
"It was not a murder," I said dreamily. "Lucy uses Rasputin to get rid of inconvenient bodies. Set her spirit free. And now she's winging off to grab another body. But what do you do with their spirits, angel? What happens to their spirits when you grab their bodies?"
"Maybe you keep them," Anastasia replied blithely. "Like trophies. Souvenirs. Memories."
"What are the two of you talking about?" Immanuel asked, baffled.
"Oh, nothing." I smiled. "The devil's back in Eden and all's right with the world. Peace and love, everyone."
