Timeless pp 5, p.19
Timeless pp-5, page 19
part #5 of Parasol Protectorate Series
Chancellor Neshi bent to listen and then seemed to engage in a brief argument. Finally he said, “My queen wishes to be shown the truth.”
“What truth, exactly?”
“Your daughter’s gifts.”
“Oh, now wait a moment there!” interjected Conall.
“It can be tricky,” hedged Alexia.
Queen Matakara’s finger twitched on the arm of the chair, lighting a small spark of flame for a brief moment. This seemed to be a signal, for one of her hive darted forward and, in a flash of smooth movement, scooped Prudence up. Prudence let go of her mother’s hand and was otherwise untroubled. Alexia let out a cry of anger. The vampire in question, however, instantly dropped the toddler because he had unexpectedly lost the strength he had no doubt enjoyed for centuries. He probably possessed the ability to maintain his grip, but the surprise was overwhelming. His fangs vanished. Prudence hit the ground with a thud but, being now immortal, sustained no injury. She leaped up, little fangs bared, grubby hands reaching. She was intrigued by the bronze chair with all of its switches and levers. Prudence was one to manhandle first, ask questions later. Much later, perhaps when she was grown up and could formulate a complete study. Most of the time this was mere childish enthusiasm and no more disconcerting than Baby Primrose’s constant groping for trim and feathers, but now Prudence was a vampire, and she had more than enough strength to do some serious damage to that chair.
Lady Maccon dove forward. Luckily, Prudence was so fascinated she did not bother to flee. Alexia got a hand around her arm in quick order, averting catastrophe.
The vampires, all frozen in startled horror for those brief, awful minutes, jumped to their collective feet and placed themselves between the Maccons and their queen. They were all shouting accusations at Alexia and Prudence in rapid, high-volume Arabic.
One of them nipped forward, hand back to strike Alexia full across the face.
Holding Prudence in both hands, Alexia could not go for her parasol, even had she been fast enough. She flinched away, curling protectively about her daughter, shielding Prudence from the blow.
Suddenly, standing between Alexia and the vampire was a very large, very angry brindled wolf. His hackles were raised, his huge white teeth were bared, and saliva dripped down from the pink of his gums.
It was a terrifying thing to confront for any creature, let alone those who had not seen a werewolf in hundreds of years.
Lord Maccon interposed himself between his wife and the hive and backed up until he was flush against the fabric of Alexia’s skirt.
Alexia took the opportunity, with the vampires’ attention now focused on this new threat, to switch Prudence firmly to one hip and release the parasol from the chatelaine with her free hand. She raised it up, arming the tip with a numbing dart. At the same time, understanding the meaning behind her husband’s consistent furry pressure against her legs, she began backing slowly toward the door.
One of the vampires feinted in the earl’s direction. At the same time, another made a lunge for Alexia. Without break for thought, the werewolf charged the first, grabbing him about the hamstring and hurling him hard into the other vampire. Both vampires crumpled to the floor for a short moment before bouncing back to their feet. Alexia, without pause, shot one of them with a numbing dart. He fell right back down again, and this time stayed there for a while before reeling groggily to his feet.
Alexia began backing with greater intent toward the doorway, not shifting her attention from the milling clot of angry vampires. Conall stuck close, maintaining a snarling, barking, growling ferocity that encouraged space between the vampires and his wife and daughter.
Chancellor Neshi stepped forward, slowly and with empty hands held up in supplication. “Please, Lord Maccon, we are unused to such antics.”
Conall only growled, low and furious.
If Alexia had expected an apology at that juncture, she was sorely disappointed. The man, showing not insignificant bravery, only inched closer and gestured the wolf toward the door like a porter. “This way, my lord. We thank you for your visit.”
Taking that as a statement of permission, Alexia turned and strode from the room with all haste. No sense in dawdling where one was unwanted. After a moment’s hesitation, Conall followed.
Prudence struggled mightily in her mother’s arm, but Alexia had had enough of that for one night and gripped her tightly.
The infant cried out, “No! Mama, no. Poor Dama!” in her high treble and strained back to the room.
Feeling her daughter’s attention shift and possessed by the same compulsion, Alexia paused and turned to look back. The hive vampires stood in a huddle before their mistress, but the dais raised Queen Matakara high enough for Alexia’s eyes to meet those of the vampire queen above the crowd. Alexia was struck once again by the profound unhappiness there and by the belief that Matakara wanted something of her, wanted it enough to bring her all the way to Egypt. How can I help you with anything? Alexia felt a tug at her dress and saw Conall had his teeth firm about her hem and was tugging her into motion. She did as she was bid.
Chancellor Neshi had to jog to catch up. After a moment’s thoughtful regard, the vampire directed his conversation at Alexia, rather than her now-hairy husband. As if nothing unbecoming had happened, he inquired politely, “May we offer you some coffee before you leave?” They walked down the cold stone stairs to the entrance.
“No thank you,” responded Alexia politely. “I think we had better depart.”
“Mama, Mama!”
“Yes, my dear?”
Prudence took a deep breath and then said slowly and carefully, “Mama, get her out.”
Alexia looked to her daughter in startlement. “Are we speaking in complete sentences now, Prudence?”
Prudence narrowed her eyes at her mother suspiciously. “No.”
“Ah, well, still, that is an interesting theory. Trapped, you think. Against her will? I suppose anything is possible.”
Biffy and Lyall spent that night much as though nothing of significance had happened in the previous one. They met with Lady Kingair and proceeded with the investigation as if there had been no fight, no life-altering decision, and no beginnings of a romance.
Lady Kingair sniffed and then glared at the two men suspiciously when they entered the room, but apart from that, made no comment about any change in state. If she noticed they were more relaxed around one another or the little touches they sometimes exchanged without quite realizing, she made no comment.
Biffy was sure Floote knew, because Floote always seemed to know such things. The butler attended to their requirements with the same solicitous efficiency as always. Perhaps more so, as it seemed that without Lady Maccon’s demands to occupy his time and attention, he was ever on hand to help them with anything they might need.
Lyall spent his time looking over all the evidence they had gathered on the owners of private dirigibles in London. He compared these to political and tradesmen’s concerns in Egypt but was unable to come up with any connections. Lady Kingair delved into the manufacture and distribution of sundowner bullets, trying to determine who might have access and why, but this also seemed fruitless. Biffy concentrated his efforts on Egypt and what Dubh might have found there. The man had clearly been inside the God-Breaker Plague zone to have emerged so weakened. Biffy gathered together passenger manifests on trains and steamers out of Egypt, attempting to access baggage information on the theory that, due to his emaciated state, Dubh must have been traveling in the company of at least part of a preternatural mummy on the voyage home. He must have disposed of it, or it had been stolen, as no supernatural creature in London had experienced ill effects upon his return.
Biffy was not one to get easily distracted, but after several hours immersed in manifests of one kind or another, he found himself drawn into an obscure treatise on the nature of the God-Breaker Plague written some fifty years ago. That, in turn, referenced a different report from the very first antiquities expeditions some hundred and twenty or so years prior. Something in the two documents struck him as odd, though he could not pinpoint the particulars. This sent him into a flurry of activity, pulling books on Egypt down from the library and sending Floote off to collect reports from the foreign office on the subject. The God-Breaker Plague was of peculiarly little interest to daylight folk and of particular secrecy to vampires and werewolves, so there was very little substantial information.
“Biffy, I don’t mean to disturb your readings, but you appear to be getting a tad distracted from our original objective.”
Biffy looked up at his Beta, rubbing his eyes blearily. “Mmm?”
“You seem to be delving further and further back in time. Away from our murder investigation. Are you tracking something of relevance?”
“There is something peculiar going on with this plague.”
“You mean aside from the fact that it exists at all, a pestilence of unmaking affecting only supernatural folk?”
“Yes.”
“What, exactly, are you on to, my boy?” Lyall crouched down next to Biffy, where he sat on the floor, surrounded by books and manuscripts.
Lady Kingair looked up from her own papers.
Biffy pointed at a line in one of the older texts. “Look here, one hundred and twenty years ago, reports of the plague being situated as far as Cairo. See here, particular mention of the pyramids being clean.”
Lyall tilted his head, a sign Biffy was to continue.
“And here, a similar mention. No one seems interested in charting the exact extent of the plague, possibly because it would take a werewolf interested in scientific investigation, and willing to turn mortal on a regular basis as he walked through the desert. But so far as I can tell, fifty years ago, the God-Breaker Plague stretched from Aswan to, still, Cairo.”
“Well?”
Biffy shook out a map of the Nile River Valley. “Taking into account topography and allowing water features and territory markers, much as werewolves and vampires do themselves, the plague would have extended like so.” He drew a loose circle on the map with a stick of graphite. “So far as I can tell, the initial extent, here, remained fixed for thousands of years, ever since werewolves were divested of their rule and the plague began.”
Lyall bent over the map, intrigued. “So what has you worried? This all seems to be as the howlers sing it. Ramses, the last pharaoh, who lost the ability to change and became old and toothless because of the God-Breaker Plague.”
“Yes, except sometime after this last report, the one dated 1824, it moved.”
“What! What moved?”
“Well, perhaps not moved. Perhaps expanded is a better word. Look at the more recent reports on the plague BUR got hold of, dated a few decades ago. Admittedly they come out of the Alexandria Hive and one loner wolf who braved the desert out of some kind of religious fervor. But I would say, at a conservative guess, that the God-Breaker Plague has expanded some one hundred miles in the last fifty years.” Biffy drew a second larger circle on his map. “Here. It now includes Siwah and Damanhúr and stretches all the way to the outskirts of Alexandria.”
“What!”
“Something happened five decades ago that caused the plague to start up again.”
“This is not good,” stated Professor Lyall baldly.
“You think our Dubh might have been carrying this information back to us?” wondered Lady Kingair.
“He was sent looking for preternatural mummies. What if he found more than any of us had wagered on?”
“Why be so obsessed with contacting Lady Maccon on the subject?” Lady Kingair seemed to find this point particularly aggravating.
“Well, she is a preternatural,” said Biffy.
“We must send them an aetherogram immediately with this information. Do you have an appointment scheduled with Lady Maccon, Biffy?” asked Lyall.
“Yes, I… How did you know?”
“Because it’s what I would have done in your place. When is it?”
“Tomorrow at sunset.”
“You must relay this information to Lady Maccon.”
“Of course.”
“And you must warn her of… you know…” Lyall gestured with his head at Lady Kingair.
“Yes, that your secret is out, that our pack is about to change. I know.”
“You are still not resigned to the change?” Lyall cocked his head to the side and lowered his voice.
“You will leave me, and you will leave me with a great deal of responsibility.” Biffy looked up at him out of the corner of his eye, pretending further interest in the map of Egypt so as to disguise any sentiment.
“I believe you might have just proven how well placed my faith is in you.”
“Well, gentlemen,” interrupted Lady Kingair, “how about you prove Lord Maccon’s faith and figure out who shot my Beta?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Wherein Alexia and Ivy Meet a Man with a Beard
Lady Alexia Maccon awoke midafternoon. The light was rich and golden, peeking around the edges of the heavy curtains. She checked her husband’s slumbering face, handsome and innocent in sleep. She trailed one fingertip down his fine profile and giggled when he snuffled a little snore at the familiarity. Sometimes she allowed herself to wallow in the sentimentality of knowing that this wonderful man, overbearing, impossible, and werewolf though he might be, was hers. Never in her old days as spinster and social outcast could she have imagined such a thing. She had thought that some kind, unassuming scientist might be persuaded to take her, or some midgrade clerk, but to have landed such a man… her sisters must envy her. Alexia would have envied herself, had that not proved logistically rather complicated. She kissed the tip of her husband’s nose and climbed out of the bed, eager to investigate Egypt in the daylight.
She was not, however, to enjoy the pleasures of such an exploration alone. The gentlemen were still abed, but Mrs. Tunstell, the nursemaid, and the children were all awake and enjoying coffee in the room dedicated as the nursery.
“Mama!” came Prudence’s excited cry upon seeing Lady Maccon in the doorway. She slid down off the chair and toddled over excitedly. Alexia bent to pick her up. Prudence grabbed her mother’s head, one chubby hand to each cheek, and directed her attention at her own intent little face. “Tunstellings! Silly,” she explained. “Eeegypttt!”
Alexia nodded slightly. “I agree with you on all points, my darling.”
Prudence stared seriously into her mother’s brown eyes, as though trying to determine whether Alexia was addressing the matter with due attention to the important details. “Good,” she said at last. “Go go go.”
Mrs. Tunstell stood back politely while Lady Maccon and her child conversed. At this she said, “Alexia, my dear, are you perhaps pondering what I am pondering?”
Alexia replied, without hesitation, “My dear Ivy, I very much doubt it.”
Ivy took no offense, possibly because she did not perceive the insult, only saying, “We were considering a little stroll about the town. Would you be interested in joining us?”
“Oh, indeed. Do you have your Baedeker’s? I need to get to the local aethographor by six o’clock or thereabouts.”
“Oh, Alexia, do you need to transmit something significant? How exciting!”
“Oh, nothing of any material consequence, simply a matter of coordination. You have no objections to us making it one of the objectives of the excursion?”
“Certainly not. Taking the air is so much more enjoyable when one has purpose, don’t you feel? I ordered up a donkey. Would you believe they don’t have perambulators in this part of the world? How do they transport infants in style?”
“Apparently by donkey.”
“That,” stated Ivy most decidedly, “is not style!”
“I thought we could pop Primrose and Percival into those adorable little basket panniers, and Prudence here might like to try to ride.”
“No!” said Prudence.
“Oh, come now, darling,” remonstrated her mother. “You come from a long line of horsewomen, or so I like to believe. You should start while you are young enough to get away with riding astride.”
“Pttttt,” said Prudence.
A polite tap came at the open door and Madame Lefoux stuck her head in. “Ladies”—she tipped her elegant gray top hat—“and Percy,” she added, remembering that one, at least, was a very minor gentleman.
Percy burped at her. Primrose waved her arms about. Prudence nodded politely, as did Alexia and Ivy.
“Madame Lefoux,” said Mrs. Tunstell. “We were about to head out on an exploratory expedition around the metropolis. Would you care to join us?”
“Ah, ladies, I should ordinarily be quite eager, but I am afraid I have my own business to attend to.”
“Ah, well, don’t let us detain you,” said Alexia, quite burning with curiosity as to the nature of Madame Lefoux’s business. Was the Frenchwoman acting for the Order of the Brass Octopus, Countess Nadasdy, or herself? Lady Maccon wished, not for the first time, she had her own team of BUR-style field agents she could set to tail suspicious individuals at will. She looked with consideration at her tiny daughter, who was occupied playing with a curl of Alexia’s hair. Perhaps I should train Prudence in covert operation procedures? With an adopted father like Lord Akeldama, half my work will already be completed. Prudence blinked at her and then stuffed the curl into her mouth. Perhaps not just yet.
Madame Lefoux made good her escape, and Alexia, Ivy, and the nursemaid dressed and mobilized the three infants. They made their way down and out the front of the hotel where a docile, soft-eared donkey and companion boy stood awaiting them. The twins took up basket position with little fuss, Percy being given a bit of dried fig to gnaw upon and Primrose a length of silver lace to play with. Both wore large straw hats, Primrose looking quite the thing with her dark curls peeking out and her big blue eyes. Percy, on the other hand, looked rather uncomfortable, like a fat, redheaded boatman unsure of the high seas.
