At his lair, Rasputin watched with fury and defeat as he saw an image of Dmitri and Sellah comforting Anya after her near-death experience. The undead man put his fingers into his eyes, pulled his neck with rage, and moaned with anger and defeat. Bartok walked away with fright as his master screamed, "NOOOOO! NOT AGAIN!"
The albino bat jolted at Rasputin's outburst and coaxed nervously, "Easy, Master! Wow… this is no time to lose your head."
Rasputin then heaved a heavy sigh, trying to control himself. "I am calm," he sighed heavily as he let his neck to back to normal size before allowing his head to go inside his body, "I am heartless… I have no feeling whatsoever…"
"Sir?" said Bartok as he started to look inside his master's body.
Rasputin had his head resting in his stomach acid as he wondered out loud, "I feel a sudden onset of clarity, Bartok." He clearly had another diabolical plot in mind as he continued, "I'll have to kill her myself – and get rid of that Yiddish-talking scavenger who tags along with her once and for all! After all, everyone knows how much the Imperial family hated her people!"
Bartok was confused for a moment, but then he realized what his undead master was thinking. "What?" he asked, "You mean… physically?"
"You know what they say," the undead man assured, "If you want something done right…"
Bartok's eyes widened as he said with shock, "But that means… going topside?!"
"Exactly!" Rasputin said as he brought his head out from his body; the head was on backwards, so he adjusted it to the front as he continued, "I have so many fond memories of Paris. And killing the last of the Romanovs with my own hands, will be so de…licious!" As he said this, he tortured a little green bug for a few minutes, and finished as he let the bug go running off, "And to be rid of a Jewish snake – that makes it even more exciting!" He then wrapped a cloak around himself and sprayed some cologne onto his neck as he chimed, "Time to go!"
"But you're dead!" Bartok protested, "You're falling apart! How do you expect to get to Paris in one piece?"
"I thought we'd take the train!" Rasputin grinned before he laughed deviously. He grabbed onto the bat and lifted his reliquary high in the air; as thunder and lightning clashed, smoke began to fill the air as Rasputin shot up high towards the surface.


Back in Boston, Fyvush and Mottel were ready to start another day of trying to do magic tricks for money. As he helped his brother set up the stand, Mottel said with very little hope, "Gee, Fyvush, I hope today goes better than that one time."
"I hope so, too," Fyvush assured his brother, "But you know what? I'll bet you that Sellah is out of that orphanage and off to better things right about now.
"Who knows?" Mottel added as his expression turned to hope, "Maybe she's found someone who appreciates our people, and she's working for that person so that she can come to America!"
Fyvush laid a cloth onto the countertop of their stand and chuckled, "Mottel, you're letting your imagination run away with you!" His expression dropped as he added, "But maybe things haven't changed? I heard that Russia's been under communist rule since the end of the Revolution there. That awful czar is gone, but I hear they have an even more ruthless leader there – he probably hates our people even more than the royals did!"
Just then, a mail carrier came up to the brothers and asked, "Excuse me, are you two Fyvush and Mottel Rosenberg?"
"Yes, sir," Mottel answered.
"Well, I have a letter for you two," the mail carrier said as he reached into his sack and pulled a letter out, "Shalom to the both of you."
Since the mail carrier was Jewish like they were, Fyvush and Mottel thanked him with grins as he went on his way.

The two brothers both looked at the envelope for a long time, knowing that it would be from their sister. "Open it up, Fyvush!" Mottel whispered with excitement.
Fyvush carefully tore the top of the envelope with his finger, and then pulled out the letter. Then the two brothers read:
Dear Fyvush and Mottel,
Good news! I have just left the orphanage with a friend of mine named Anya. Anya wants to go to Paris, France in order to find out who she is, because when she first met me, she had severe amnesia, and her only clue is a necklace that reads, "Together in Paris."
I agreed to come along with her and help, but I will also see if I can find a job somewhere in the city of lights so that I can be one step closer to seeing you two again. How are you doing in Boston? What kinds of plans do you have for me when I reach America?
I wish to see you soon!
Hevenu Shalom Alechem,
Sellah

After reading the letter, the two brothers looked at each other with amazement, and said with disbelief in unison, "Paris, France?"
"I hope our sister doesn't get into too much trouble there," Mottel said with a slightly worried expression.
"Don't worry, brother," Fyvush assured, "She'll be fine! Hopefully more people there will have more respect for her and our people."
Mottel wasn't too sure about this, so he suggested, "Fyvush, I think… we might need to find a new real job soon."
"Why do you say that?" Fyvush asked with a raised brow.
"Because," Mottel answered with a thoughtful look, "I think Sellah might be in France by now. It takes a while for these letters to come all the way to America from Europe, let alone Russia."
"That is true," Fyvush nodded with understanding.
"So I'm thinking," the younger brother continued as a sly smile slowly appeared on his face, "That we might need to take a vacation, ourselves… to Paris…"