Babayaga

soul.”
    “Yes, well, I appreciate your sentiments, and I very sincerely hope you work things out with your wife,” Will said, sounding stiff and awkward even to himself.
    “Ah, Will, you are a vampire. No, we are both vampires!” Guizot gave him a bittersweet smile. “But I have put the stake through my own heart.” Then Guizot walked off down the hallway, his head hung low.
    Will watched him leave, unsure of exactly what had occurred, other than having been fired from his last and final account. Perhaps Guizot would come to his senses. If not, it did not matter. Will’s career in Paris was over. There was not much left to do.
    He headed back to his office. He knew Brandon was there by now, waiting. He did not know if Brandon would be tough with him or friendly. He did not care. He was not handing over the files.
    So, as he walked into the room, he was not surprised to see Brandon sitting with the two others, staring up at him as he entered. He was, however, surprised to find Oliver sitting with them.
    “Oh, hullo,” Oliver said, looking up from behind Will’s desk, where he had clearly made himself comfortable. “What a nice surprise, I stopped by to pick you up for our appointment and ran into these fine fellows. Have you all met?”
    Will gave a nervous smile. “Um, yes, Oliver, they’re sitting in my office.”
    “Well, then of course you have!” Oliver laughed. “Turns out Caleb here hails from Cleveland. You two must have a lot to talk about. Ohio’s got the oil and the tires and you’ve got the automobiles in Detroit, so there’s a nice symbiosis there, right? But then there’s that funny football rivalry and the war you two fought against one another back in the 1830s. The Toledo War, wasn’t it? Yes, well, happy to chat all day but look, boys”—he slapped his hands together and stood up—“I must borrow Will for a bit. Your business can wait, can’t it?”
    “Listen, I don’t have time to joke—” Brandon began to speak, but Oliver stopped him with a raised hand.
    “I’m as serious as a saint, I won’t take no for an answer. In return I promise you a substantial round of drinks. I do need him, you understand.”
    Brandon just glared as Oliver took Will’s hat off the rack, popped it on Will’s head, and swiftly guided him out the door. Will went along, a little confused by Brandon’s silence. From what he had been able to gather, everyone did Brandon’s bidding, not the other way around.
    Two minutes later they were in a taxi, where Will was still trying to work out how they had gotten away. Maybe Oliver’s sudden appearance had taken Brandon by surprise, or perhaps Brandon had felt he did not have the authority to stop them, or maybe the man was a little wary of Oliver, which maybe made sense; Oliver might come across as a bit of a foolish dandy, but he did seem to know a lot of influential people.
    “Well, that went well.” Oliver straightened his cuff buttons. “Glad I found you, because, you see, the jazz boys rang me up. They finally tracked down the whereabouts of Ned, and they tell me she’s not doing so hot. I promised I’d phone when we were on our way. You have any jetons on you?”
    “No,” said Will.
    “Well, your place is only up ahead, right? I’ll have the driver wait while we dash up and make the call.”
    Remembering that Zoya was probably still in his apartment, Will tried to avoid the awkward encounter. “Oh, I bet we could find a tabac and get some phone tokens there.”
    Oliver chuckled. “Don’t be daft, we’re only a block away from your building.” He leaned forward and told the driver, “ Prenez une gauche et laissez-moi à côté du trottoir. ”
    IV

    A dazed Noelle sat cross-legged on the hotel bed, watching Elga dig through the oversized canvas carpetbag. The old woman had been bustling about the room for over an hour, muttering phrases to herself and barely acknowledging the girl. From the bottom of the bag the old woman hauled out a large bundle wrapped in an old sheet. Inside was an exquisite-looking clock, which she set on the table; then she went back to searching the carpetbag. After a minute of rummaging, she pulled out a pistol.
    “Look around carefully and weigh all things, weigh them right, like a butcher weighs meat,” the old woman said, giving Noelle a raised eyebrow as she waved the pistol in the air. “Especially dumb toys like this. People think guns are important—ah, so much fear and lust over this