God Save the Queen (The Immortal Empire) (11 page)

Avery’s girlfriend Emma – a gorgeous halvie with café au lait skin and white hair – had arrived a few hours earlier and the two of them emerged from her room scant minutes before Val arrived, both dressed in a more formal mourning style of long black skirts, fitted black jackets and wide, veiled hats. My brother wore a long coat like mine with a jasmine bloom pinned to the lapel – a lovely tribute to Dede.

We couldn’t take his Triumph to the service as it was a two-seater, so I rang for a motor carriage and driver – a perk of being a Royal Guard was having on-call transportation.

The driver, a middle-aged halvie of about five and seventy, took one look of the four of us – looking like a murder of crows – and his kind face fell. He took off his hat to reveal thinning blue hair. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said in a thick northern accent that sounded strange coming out of his mouth.

Val sat up front with the driver. I handed him a black handkerchief over the seat as we pulled away from the house. I gave one to Avery as well. That neither of them had thought to bring their own was no surprise to me – they never thought of these things, especially Avery, the one who would need it most of all. I offered a handkerchief to Emma as well, but she, smart girl, already had one. She smiled at me over Avery’s bowed head and I smiled back, knowing she probably had more than one handkerchief in that bag of hers. She would take care of Avery. The only one I need concern myself with was Val.

There was a line of cars outside St Albert’s Cathedral – a beautiful stone cathedral built in memory of the half-bloods who died
in the Great Insurrection. Many of them were buried in nearby Kensal Green cemetery, and that was where the Vardan crypt was.

And where an impostor would be interred under my sister’s name.

I had to let go of these thoughts – at least for the remainder of the evening. If I didn’t look sufficiently like the grieving sister, there would be talk, and I couldn’t afford that, nor did I want to embarrass my family by bringing more scandal upon us.

My father arrived shortly after we did, driven by his assistant in a stately lacquered carriage pulled by four glossy black horses. As I watched him approach, I had the uncharitable thought that he should have driven all of us here. We should have arrived as a unit. As a family. But Her Grace wouldn’t like that. She despised my father’s half-blood children. I reckoned she’d have liked us more if she’d managed to produce a healthy, fully plagued child of her own.

Father looked terrible – tired and anguished. I didn’t enjoy his pain, but I was glad to know that it was for Dede. She’d always believed he didn’t love her as much as he loved the rest of us. I believed he loved all of us as much as a man could love children he rarely saw and had never lived with.

He greeted the three of us with individual embraces, an oddly personal display for him. When he left me to embrace Avery, I caught sight of another arrival being admitted to the family room – Church. I left my father’s side and went to greet him. He took me into his arms and held me so tight that I could have lifted my feet off the floor and not budge.

“Thank you for coming,” I whispered hoarsely. Having him there made this charade feel so incredibly real.

“My dear girl, I will always be exactly where you need me to be.” He kissed my temple. “Now, no weeping. Save that for when no one can see you.”

I nodded, blinking away the tears his kindness had wrung out of me. He released me with a smile that gave me the strength I needed to get through the evening.

The attendant told us it was time, and Father led the way into the main body of the cathedral, where the service was to be held. Since we were family, we were the last to go in, and the entire chamber rose to its feet when the Duke of Vardan entered. It would be in all the papers tomorrow, how he looked, how we looked – and that Her Grace had not attended. They would bring up the child she had lost years ago as well, no doubt, just to add extra titillation to the story.

And they would mention that I walked in on Churchill’s arm.

We sat in the first pew; directly in front of us was the coffin – rosewood with pewter accents. Avery dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief I’d given her. Val stared at his hands, and Father spoke softly to Dede’s mother, Lecia. Rather than see the anguish in the poor woman’s expression, I stared at that highly polished box and wished I at least knew the name of the person in it. Church took my hand, and I held tight to it. He was reason in a sea of insanity.

Shortly, the vicar came in and began to speak. He went on and on about how good Dede had been and how her soul was now at peace – all the right things. By the time a lovely soprano began to sing “Amazing Grace”, Avery was sobbing openly on Emma’s shoulder, and I was ready to punch someone.

I was going to
kill
whoever was responsible for putting my family through this pain.

Finally it was over, and the coffin was carried out by members of the Peerage Protectorate – Dede’s colleagues. Family followed. Avery and Emma walked behind, and Church escorted Lecia, the tiny little woman hanging on to his arm as if it was the only thing keeping her upright. Val and I flanked Father so he wouldn’t be
alone when the flash bulbs went off outside. They were blinding in the darkening night – especially to our sensitive eyes. The press – human – was here in droves. So much for the theory that we’d avoid gossip by having the burial quickly. A quick funeral was like a quick wedding – it had to be a cover-up for
something
.

“Your Grace, is it true that Drusilla vowed to kill Lord Ainsley?”

“What about allegations that your daughter was a transsexual?”

“What would you say to Drusilla if she could hear you?”

“Do you feel the asylum was negligent? Are you going to sue?”

We pushed through the crowd. I wanted nothing more than to bare my fangs – which had extended in my anger – and hiss at the pushy humans. The only thing that kept me from doing so was that it would end up on the cover of all of tomorrow’s papers.

Instead, we escorted Father to his carriage as quickly as possible.

“Get in,” he commanded, sliding across the seat. “I refuse to give those hounds any more of my blood today.”

I slid in next to him along with Val. Avery, Lecia and Emma sat across from us. Church sat up front. Father’s assistant shut the door just as a reporter tried to get a shot up Avery’s skirt, preventing me from grabbing the camera and smashing it over the bastard’s head.

The carriage pulled away, hooves tempered by vulcanised discs. It was slow going, but at least we were going. My father pressed a glass of wine into one of my hands. “Drink this. You look positively feral.”

That was the second time I’d been told that by a family member. I was beginning to get a complex. But then he patted the top of my thigh. “So fiercely loyal to those you love.”

By the time we reached the cemetery I was almost myself again. This quick temper wasn’t me, nor was this desire for violence. But these weren’t normal circumstances, so I made a mental note to get a better hold on myself and let it go for now.

The Vardan crypt was only one of the many dedicated to the peerage. There hadn’t been anyone entombed here in almost seventy years – those lost in the Great Insurrection, and that long-dead step-sibling before that.

One day they would bring my body here – not a thought I wanted to entertain. My only hope was that I lived a long life, but not so long that I was ancient and useless, relegated to squiring people around like the halvie who brought us to the cathedral.

Only family came this far – and Church, of course. Security at the gate would make certain no reporters got through. This was supposed to be our private time, when each member of the family could go into the crypt and have a moment alone over the coffin.

Except for me, of course. I stood outside and looked around – at anything but my grieving family. That was when I caught sight of a strangely familiar head of blue hair behind another crypt a short distance away. Fee? What was she doing here? Suddenly it didn’t seem like such a coincidence that I had saved her from the betties a short distance from where I lived, or that the birth records she stole from the hospital would have included mine. And now here she was at my sister’s funeral – uninvited – watching us.

Or maybe just watching
me
.

Call me paranoid, but there was something dodgy about all of it.

“Are you all right?” Church asked me, glancing in Fee’s direction. Of course, she ducked out of sight before he could spy her.

“I’m fine,” I replied, not quite meeting his gaze. “Just thinking.”

He gave my shoulders a squeeze, and I fought the urge to lean into him as Vardan approached.

“Do you want to go in, Alexandra?” my father asked. He looked tired, but his eyes were clear.

“No,” I replied with a shake of my head. “Dede and I always said what we needed to say to each other.” It wasn’t a lie so I didn’t feel guilty about it.

He nodded absently. I’m not even certain he heard me.

Avery and Emma came out of the crypt a little while later, and my father gave permission to close the tomb up once more. He hadn’t gone in either. Why not? I knew my reason – because that wasn’t Dede in there – but what was his?

I wondered about this as the six of us walked out to the gate. I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder to check on Fee. I should have told Val, so he could arrest her, but I kept quiet. There was a mystery here, and squealing on Fee would only hand it over to someone else to solve.
I
was going to suss out this intrigue.

A few photographers and reporters waited by Vardan’s carriage, having followed us from the service. Flashes went off, questions were yelled at us over the top of one another. I hesitated just inside the gate. Val glanced at me. Poor thing looked a wreck.

“Coming, Xandy? Father’s going to take us home.”

I shook my head. “I’m not ready to leave just yet. You and Avery go on without me.”

He ran his hand up and down my arm. “I understand. You have your rotary?” At my nod he said, “Ring me if you need anything. See you tomorrow?”

Another nod. We hugged and kissed each other on the cheek.

Church embraced me as well. When he asked if I wanted company, I thanked him and told him that I really just needed a little time alone. I don’t think he wanted to give me that, didn’t want me to be by myself, but he respected me enough to do just that. He waved at me through the carriage window as it pulled away.

I returned to the cemetery, ignoring the shrinking number of
reporters. It was darker here than out there on the street, and while I could see everything perfectly, the vultures couldn’t see me. I don’t think they even noticed I wasn’t with the others; it was the Duke they were interested in.

I waited a few moments, until my family and the reporters were gone, before slowly making my way back to the Vardan crypt. I kept low, using the elaborate monuments and headstones as cover as I crept silently through the grass. It was slow going – I had to be quieter than usual, and stay downwind.

Crouched behind a stone sarcophagus, I peeked around the worn edge. From there I had a dead-on view of my family’s final resting place. I wasn’t surprised to see the door to the tomb was open again. I had a pretty good idea who was inside.

What the fuck was that blue-haired thief up to? Anger – no, aggression – bubbled inside me. I wanted to march in there and tear her head off, protect what was mine. But that would be foolish, and I wasn’t that stupid.

I didn’t see anyone else lurking about, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. I moved fast, ducking behind another stone as I manoeuvred closer to the tomb. I approached from the side so that whoever was inside wouldn’t see me coming, pausing long enough to pull the lonsdaelite dagger from the sheath sewn into my coat.

I slipped into the crypt. A lone figure was standing next to the rosewood casket, covered from head to toe in a long hooded cloak. It was Fee, judging from the size. And she was about to lift the coffin lid.

I pounced on her, using my body weight and strength to pin her to the coffin, which shifted on its shelf. She struggled, but I slammed her face into the casket before flipping her over so that she faced me. I pressed the edge of my dagger to her throat and tore her hood off with the other hand.

I was right. It was Fee. The dagger trembled, eager to slice
through her skin and give me access to the blood beneath. I was so angry. So
hungry
.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” I demanded as saliva flooded my tongue.

“Paying my respects,” she replied, glancing down at the blade as blood trickled from her nostrils to her mouth. “Could you put that away?”

I ignored the request. I wanted to lick her upper lip clean. “How do you know my sister? And why did you steal the records from the hospital?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A little pressure and the blade bit ever so slightly into the skin of her throat, drawing a bead of blood. “You tell me or I fucking end you right here.” It was a lie, of course. I wasn’t going to kill her – not while she had information on Dede. Though I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t take a bite.

“I’m really sorry,” she said with a slight smile.