on your door?”
“Why would they do that?” Largo said.
“Do they need a reason?”
What the hell does that mean? he wondered, before Branca’s comment about König came back to him. “It’s likely you won’t see him again.” Largo’s day had returned to being strange.
As he considered that, the other members of the group came back with Frida in tow. Bianca had the elegant woman’s fur draped across her shoulders. “You might want to keep your trap shut for a while, Enki,” said Hanna. “The vile ruling class is almost upon us.”
Frida greeted Remy and Hanna like old friends, and gave Largo a peck on each cheek when they were introduced. She and Enki studiously ignored each other.
“How is everyone?” Frida said.
“Still sober,” said Hanna. “So, in a word, tragic.”
Frida made a complex hand gesture at one of the servant Maras.
“At once, ma’am,” it said, and left the room.
She winked at the others. “A little secret I learned from the Baron. It’s not necessary to even talk to them,” she said. “We’ll have more drinks momentarily.”
Largo couldn’t help noticing a chimera—a long snakelike body with a miniature wolf’s head—with its fangs buried in the Mara’s leg so that the automaton limped. More ugliness, he thought. He wondered if the chimera was one of Hanna’s creations. He’d ask her later, if he got a chance.
“While we wait for our champagne …,” said Frida. She reached into her purse and took out what Largo thought at first was a tube of lipstick. Frida unscrewed the top with great care, tapped out some powder onto her hand, and sniffed it up. Then she held out the tube to the others. “Does anyone care to join me?”
The cocaine made its way quickly around the group. No one tried to hide what they were doing because many other partiers were doing the same thing. Even Enki took some of the powder. Largo wondered if he was trying to fit in or was simply a hypocrite. With luck, I won’t spend enough time with him to ever know.
On the end of the chaise, Lucie sat up and looked around sleepily. “What happened to my champagne?” she said. Everyone in the group laughed. No one replied because Frida handed her the tube and Lucie squealed with delight. She snorted a copious amount of the powder and looked at Remy in surprise. “When did you get here?” she said.
Remy put an arm around her and pulled her close, saying, “You’re a goose.”
In a few minutes, Baumann presented the group with hashish cigarettes, which they also passed around. Riding the blissful high of the cocaine and hashish, Largo disliked the too-handsome actor a little less.
The cigarettes made their way around the group once, then twice. The third time Remy puffed one she doubled over in a coughing fit. Lucie and Baumann laughed together. Largo patted Remy’s back, hoping it would help clear her lungs. It didn’t.
“My god, she’s turning blue,” said Bianca. Hanna spun around and looked up at Remy’s face. She pushed Lucie and Largo off the chaise and laid Remy on her back. She was limp.
“We have to get her breathing properly,” Hanna said. She tilted Remy’s head back and breathed into her mouth.
Frida touched Baumann’s shoulder. “Do you know Dr. Venohr?”
“Of course.”
“Bring him here. Quickly.”
Baumann jumped up and disappeared into the crowd, which remained oblivious to Remy’s situation. Largo held Remy’s hand as Hanna kept forcing air into her lungs. When, in a few minutes, she began to breathe on her own again, everyone relaxed. But it didn’t last long. Remy began to shake. Her arms bent up to her chest and her fingers twisted into claws. She grimaced and Largo had to hold her legs to keep her from kicking herself off the chaise.
Hanna looked at him. “Has this ever happened before?”
“Once or twice,” he said, “but never this badly.”
“Was she taking drugs those other times?”
Largo shook his head. “No. We were perfectly sober.”
“Does she take medication for it?”
“Not that I know of.”
After subsiding for a few seconds, Remy’s convulsions came back stronger than ever. “Oh my god,” Bianca whispered over and over like she was praying.
A moment later, Baumann returned in the company of a bald, bearded man in a tuxedo. Dr. Venohr gently pushed Hanna away from Remy so that he could look into her eyes. “How long have the convulsions been going on?” he said.
“A few minutes,” said Largo. “They’ve never been this bad before.”
“I’m afraid they have, but she didn’t want you to know about them,” said Dr. Venohr.
Largo stared at the man. “You’ve treated her?”
“I’ve known Remy her whole life. I’m an old friend of the family.”
Largo wondered what else Remy hadn’t told him. But all he could think about right now was whether she was truly ill.
What if she’s dying?
“Can you help her?”
Dr. Venohr opened a small black leather bag he had with him. “I believe so,” he said, and filled a syringe with a clear liquid from a small bottle. Tilting Remy’s head to the side, he injected the fluid directly into her jugular vein. Bianca continued repeating “Oh my god.” It was annoying, but no one bothered to stop her.
With the shot, it took only a few seconds for Remy’s convulsions to subside. Her arms and hands relaxed. Her legs stopped shaking. The grimace faded from her face. It looked almost as if she were asleep.
Largo said, “Is that it? Is she all right now?”
“For the moment,” said Dr. Venohr.
“Should we take her to a hospital?”
“That shouldn’t be necessary. But we should get her home. And she mustn’t be alone tonight. I assume you can stay and watch her?”
“Of course. For as long as it takes.”
“Good,” said Dr. Venohr. He packed the bottle and syringe in his bag. “I’ll call for my car. Can someone help you bring her to the door?”
Hanna and Baumann both volunteered.
Dr. Venohr got up and went to call his car. Largo pulled Remy up from the chaise. Hanna got on the other side and together they lifted Remy to her feet. Baumann went ahead of them, making an opening in the crowd. When they reached the door, Largo said, “Could someone find her coat? I don’t want her to get cold.” Frida, who had
