Mission: Improper: London Steampunk: The Blue Blood Conspiracy (25 page)

"And that someone is not me," he said coolly, his fists clenching at his sides, even though rationally he could admit that he agreed with the duchess.

"That someone is not you."

Byrnes looked away.
It was one thing to know that she spoke the truth, quite another to...
accept it.

"If you become her lover and you walk away, where does that leave her?
Alone?
Pining for someone who doesn’t give a damn about her?
She's lost enough in this lifetime, don't you think?”

"Who’s to say she’ll fall for
me
?
After all, if it’s not the first time she's been with a man….”

"This is not the same,” Rosa told him firmly.
"She won’t speak to me about you.
Just changes the subject.
She’s never hidden a man from me before, nor avoided me, which means that there’s something different about you.
I don’t like this.”

The floor felt like it tilted, just a little, beneath his feet.
And the image of Ingrid bouncing that chubby child on her lap returned with full force, a gut punch that made his nostrils flare.
What was he thinking?
That he wanted her despite the fact that he would be the worst thing for her?

"What I am saying, Caleb, is that if you intend to pursue this, then step lightly, and be certain about your intentions.
Because if you break my friend’s heart, I’m afraid it will never mend, and then I shall make it
my
business to haunt you until the day you die.
Do you understand?”

He stared at her for a long time.
"Quite.”

"
Y
ou were quiet tonight
," Ingrid said, gathering her skirts as she descended the stairs at the front of Lynch's house.

Byrnes paced in the driveway, staring at nothing.
There was a remote set to his shoulders, as if he'd subtly withdrawn from the world.
Or perhaps her.
Ingrid frowned, her steps slowing.
"Are you all right?"

"Just lost in thought," he said, and it felt like there was more distance between them than just a foot.

A chill ran through her.

Something had changed.
She knew it, though she didn't understand it.
"Rosa is just meddling.
I didn't know that you'd be at dinner tonight.
She's just trying to figure out what is going on between us.
Don't pay her any mind."

"Ingrid," he said, peering down at her with some strange expression on his face.
"Maybe you were right?
Maybe the debris we'd leave behind wouldn't be worth the risk."

Her heart stuttered to a halt.
She wasn't surprised.
She couldn't be, as this was what she'd been trying to tell him all along.
As much as the fire burned between them, ultimately they were too different to belong together.
But she hadn't expected it to hurt quite as much as it did.

Nor had she expected it to happen so soon.

Rosa had done this.
Her friend had swept from the room on Byrnes's heels, leaving Ingrid to try and disengage Phillip's fat little paws from her pearls.

"What did she say to you?"
she demanded.

To his credit, he didn't bother to deny it.
"The truth.
That you and I come from different worlds, and that we have different futures in mind."

"So you don't want to complete your second challenge?"

Byrnes looked away.
"Maybe tonight was a reminder that the stakes might be too high.
We'd damage more than just ourselves if this ended badly.
Jesus, Ingrid.
I don't know."

"Then it's over?"
Before it had even begun.

"Maybe...
we'd best take a step back?
Think things over before we go rushing into anything?"

Which meant it was over.
Ingrid nodded, tugging her gloves into place.
She didn't care, truly she didn't.
This was nothing more than she'd expected.
Why then was there a lump in her throat?
"I'll hail the hackney then," she said, turning to lifting her hand to hail a steam carriage as she stepped out into the street.

And tried not to let her hurt show.

I
T WAS
ONE thing to declare someone bad for you, quite another to make your body believe it.
Especially when they were forced into close proximity with each other until this case was solved.
All Ingrid could think about was the taste of Byrnes's mouth and how much she wanted to lose that bet.
It even stole into her dreams at night, leaving her tossing and turning until morning.

Which was when Ava saved her with an invitation to go question a man about the Doeppler orbs.
Henrik Doeppler was dead, but rumor had it that he'd once had an apprentice.

Ava caught her in the hallway.
"I’ve found a lead, but I need someone to go with me to...
to...."

"Intimidate the suspect?"
Ingrid had replied, with a wolfish smile.

"Something like that," Ava answered, sharing a conspiratorial smile.
"I've seen how Byrnes and Perry used to work together."

The once-apprentice, Bartholomew Hayes, owned a small shop near Farringdon where he catered to the stages in Covent Garden.
Ingrid hopped down out of the carriage she and Ava had commandeered as it let out a hiss of steam.
The windows to Hayes's shop were full of automata, as well as a range of devices she couldn't quite make out.
He was no blacksmith of the Royal Academy, but he seemed to have managed to eke out a well-to-do living, judging by the sumptuous velvet beneath the displays.

"Hullo," Ava called as she pushed open the door and entered.
The bell rang.
"Mr.
Hayes?"

A thin woman popped up from behind the counter, raking the pair of them with a sharp gaze that probably weighed them to within a pound of their worth.
"Mr.
Hayes is busy, ma'am, but I'm sure I can help you.
Mrs.
Hayes, at your service."

Ingrid leaned on the counter as Ava launched into the spiel of why they were there.
There was a back room just off the counter, and it was filled with a listening silence.
"So you see," Ava murmured, as she reached the end, "we would very much like to question Mr.
Hayes about the orb."

"I can take a message, ma'am," Mrs.
Hayes's smile held teeth.
"But I'm afraid he—"

"Why don't you just fetch him out of the back room?"
Ingrid broke in, eyeing the woman and letting the
wild
within her show.
"He's standing right there listening to us."

Ava wanted intimidation, after all, and as much as a part of her hated to do this—to be what everyone in London suspected verwulfen were—they needed information.

Mrs.
Hayes nearly collapsed a row of shelves as she scrambled away from the flare of bronze in Ingrid's eyes, her heartbeat rabbiting in her chest loudly.
"What do you want with him?"
she demanded shrilly.
"My Bart has nothing to do with this...
I see everything that runs through the books, I do!"

"Is that why he's sweating so badly right now, and his heart is pounding?"
Ingrid inquired sweetly, before raising her voice.
"I do hope he's not thinking about running.
That would be a very bad idea.
If I have to chase him down, well...
I'll be most put out."

The curtains parted and a lean young man stepped through, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"That's not necessary," he told her firmly, though the icy glaze in his eyes told another story.
"Dolores, will you put the Closed sign up, and go see the butcher about dinner?"

Mrs.
Hayes's lips thinned, but with a parting glance at Ingrid she complied.

Silence filled the shop, broken by the jingle of traces and carriage wheels outside.
Several clocks ticked on the walls, and the eyes of numerous automaton stared blankly at her as Ingrid moved to tug down the small curtain over the door.

"What do you want?"
Hayes demanded the second she did so.
"I don't know anything."

"You
do
know how to make one of these," Ava told him, pulling the Doeppler orb out of her reticule.
"You're possibly the only one who still knows."

He frowned, turning it over in his hands.
"Yes, I made them."
Handing it back, he met her stare.
"Two months back.
Three crates of them.
Why?"
Sweat darkened his upper lip.
"They can't do anything dangerous by themselves."

"It's a gas-dispersing device, with a timer," Ava pointed out.
"I can't imagine a good purpose this could be crafted for."

Hayes looked away.
"They paid a small fortune.
I-I—"

"You knew they were up to no good," Ingrid replied, strolling through the shop and running her fingers along one of the steel puppets, "but you didn't care because you wanted the money."

"Y-you don't understand."
Hayes licked dry lips.
"These men....
They weren't the type of men you say no to.
I know times have changed—supposedly—but I still remember what it felt like when the Echelon were in charge.
These...
blue bloods...."

"Describe them," Ingrid suggested, leaning on the counter and peering at him.
"And do try and remember everything."

By the time she and Ava exited the shop, they were convinced.

"Ulbricht," Ava murmured.
"That name just keeps popping up."

"And now we have proof he was connected to the Begby Square disappearances, and a witness, and a reason to question Ulbricht."
Ingrid cracked her knuckles then lifted a hand to flag down a carriage.
"That should satisfy Malloryn's objections to bringing him in."

"I do hope that didn't sound like you mean to enjoy questioning him," Ava murmured.

"He tried to feed me to a vampire."
A distinct thrill lit through her.
Revenge.
"There might be a small part of me that will enjoy it."

Ava shuddered as a carriage ambled to a halt at the curb.
"You and Byrnes—you're terribly well-suited."

Hell.
Ingrid slammed to a halt.
The other woman's feelings were apparent to her, even if Byrnes was shockingly oblivious.
"Ava, I'm....
I-I—"

"It's all right, Ingrid."
Ava smiled sadly.
"I'm not angry, or upset.
You suit Caleb.
I should like to see him happy with someone, and you...
you get beneath that callous facade he wears so well in a way I've never seen anyone else do.
He needs someone like that.
Someone who makes him feel."

"I don't think he and I shall ever happen," Ingrid admitted as she tugged the carriage door open for Ava.
"It would be very easy to begin to feel something for him.
But I think you're misconstruing his attentions.
It's just a game to him."

"I've known Caleb for nearly four years.
Trust me, Ingrid.
I wish he looked at me the way he looks at you.
Don't give up hope just yet."

"You're taking this remarkably well."

Ava's blonde lashes obscured her eyes.
"I've known for a while that nothing was ever going to develop between Caleb and I.
The mind knew, even when the heart held hope."
She swallowed.
"And I think that you are a decent, kind person.
Even when you want to break bones."

"Just Ulbricht's," Ingrid assured her as Ava stepped up into the carriage.

A sickly sweet scent caught her nose at that moment.
Something familiar.
Something strong enough to cut through the coal smoke.

"Are you coming?"
Ava asked, peering out of the hackney.

"I'm just going to take a look around," she replied, nostrils flaring as she stepped back.
"I think I can smell something."

Ava's green skirts swished out of the carriage, and Ingrid realized she intended to follow.

"Alone," she snapped, one hand to Ava's chest to hold her safely inside.

Ava's green eyes widened a little.
"Is everything all right?"

"It's fine," Ingrid replied, cursing herself for her bluntness.
"But I'm going to be moving quickly, and you yourself said that fieldwork sets your pulse racing.
It's probably best if you take the information about the Doeppler orbs back to Baker Street."

For if she smelled that scent correctly...
a vampire had recently passed through the area.

"If you see Byrnes, maybe send him this way," Ingrid said, still trying not to alarm the other woman.
Regardless of her and Byrnes's not-quite-argument at the moment, she wasn't stupid enough to track a vampire alone.

She just wanted to see what it was up to.
People spilled through the streets around them, children clutching their mothers' hands, and one even trying to ride a bicycle in the park across the street, guided by a man who had to be his father.
This section of town was a bloodbath waiting to happen.

"All right," Ava concurred, closing the door and peering out of the window.
"As long as you're certain you'll be fine alone?"

"Right as rain," Ingrid replied, and stepped back onto the footpath.
Fog clung to the alleyways and the hair on the back of her neck rose, as if something was watching her from within, but she forced herself to wave to Ava as the carriage let out a hiss of steam and then burbled into the traffic.

It turned the corner and Ingrid let out the breath she'd been holding.
Turning, she strode along the street, breathing deeply.

What was a vampire doing in this area of town?

Every person she passed only pushed her nerves right to the edge, as she couldn't resist glancing at their faces.
A fat banker there, hurrying home to his wife and children perhaps....
What if he got home and found nothing but blood?
Or nothing at all.
After all, people were disappearing and they still didn't know why.

At least this was a bloody lead.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Ingrid looked up.
Black clouds hovered on the horizon, but she still had some time before it rained.

A young governess looked both ways at the edge of the pavement, her hands clasped around her two charges' hands.
Ingrid couldn't stop herself from taking the woman by the arm.

Startled eyes flew to hers.

"Take them home," Ingrid said curtly, trying not to frighten the young governess too much.
"I'm working with the Nighthawks, and I'd highly recommend that you keep your charges inside today."

The young woman blanched, and Ingrid smelled panic.
But the girl swept up the children and hurried them away.
At least that might be two that she saved.

Children...
everywhere.
Ingrid's gaze locked on the grassy park across the street, her ears ringing with their laughter and screeches of joy.
Indecision warred in her breast.
Should she send them home?
Or follow the creature to try and stop whatever it was up to?

Ingrid bit her lip, then started to run after the scent trail.
There were simply too many people out, and if she paused here, then the vampire might start its killing spree before she got to it.

She was the only one who
might
be able to stop it.

Suddenly she realized where she was.
Familiar streets that she'd only traveled herself a day or so ago.
She began looking around, her steps slowing as the scent trail crossed itself.
It had some sort of interest in this area.
Where the hell was she?
Why did she recognize—

That was when she knew.

"No," she whispered, "No, no,
no
."
As she scrambled around the corner, she caught hold of the gaslight and stared up at the building across the street.
Miss Appleby's Home for the Elderly.

Not coincidence.
Not merely a chase.
It had come here for a purpose.

Screams lit through the building.
Ingrid was running before she'd thought about it.
Byrnes had made her promise not to confront the vampire by herself, but this was no time to worry about breaking that promise.

Not when his mother was in that building.

Slamming through the front door, she saw the blood painted against the walls, one forlorn handprint splayed in wet vermillion before it slid in a splash toward the floor.
A body lay there, throat torn out and eyes wide in horror.