Mission: Improper: London Steampunk: The Blue Blood Conspiracy (34 page)

"But Ingrid never specifically said it?
Rosa's not always right.
Though she's having a difficult time admitting it to herself.
Why don't you ask Ingrid what
she
wants?
She’s passionate and rash, and living on the very edge of her emotions—in some ways she's your exact opposite.
But I think that if there was anyone that could match the darkness inside you, anyone who could handle it...
it would be her, Byrnes.
The only problem is that in order to get what you want, you're going to have to expose yourself and risk the chance of losing her.
You must face your own demons head-on if you want this."

Byrnes sank his head back against the wall.
This felt like old times, the pair of them coolly analyzing a case.
"Has anyone ever told you that your omniscience is annoying?"

Lynch smiled.
"Rosa.
And frequently."

The pair of them both relaxed, however, as if that one statement had defused the tension between them.

He would...
deal with Lynch's assessment later.
When he had time to pick it apart in his brain.

"So now that we've assessed your progress with Ingrid, tell me what else is bothering you."

There had never been any point in fooling the guild master.
"You've heard?"

"About the assassination attempt?"
Lynch arched a brow.
"Malloryn held an emergency meeting of the Council two hours ago.
We're aware of what's happened."

Taking the note from his pocket, Byrnes smoothed it out, then handed it silently to the duke.
"The woman behind the explosion left this letter for me."

Once he'd read it, Lynch met Byrnes's gaze.
"She's formed some sort of connection with you."

"It's the threat that concerns me.
If she thinks that Ingrid stands between us...."
He didn't bother to add more.
They both knew that even verwulfen were no match for a
dhampir
.
Not alone.

Lynch tapped the letter against his thigh.
"Ingrid will be protected.
I'll involve myself if need be, so set that from your mind.
You're thinking like a newly mated male.
Not an investigator.
What else does this letter represent?"

That was the first time he'd ever been accused of sentimentality.
Byrnes twisted the problem around in his mind, looking at it from another angle.
"A chance," he said slowly.
"If she's formed some sort of attachment or interest, or whatever the bloody hell she thinks it is, then I can use that to find her."

"She wants you to find her.”

"And if I can find her, then I can cut the head off the snake before it becomes a problem.
We can find the missing people, kill her vampires, and stop this Ulbricht scheme in its tracks."
Byrnes shoved to his feet, his mind racing.
"Keep an eye on Ingrid for me?
There's a few things I need to see to."

I
ngrid blinked sleepy eyes
, smelling a familiar perfume.
She turned, snuggling her face into Rosa's wrist, where their hands lay interlocked.
"Rosa.
What are you doing here?"

Rosa went to her knees on the floor beside her bed, those serious dark eyes on a level with her own, as she rested her chin on her free hand.
"Checking to see if my closest friend is all right."
She blew a red curl out of her face.
"Someone told me a rather statuesque young verwulfen woman blew up a bridge today."

Ingrid smiled faintly, even as she shut her eyes again.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time."
There was a certain absence in the room.
That made her look up.
"Where's—"

"Byrnes?"
Rosa asked, in a dry voice.

Their eyes met.
"It's not like that," Ingrid said quickly.

"Isn't it?"
Rosa sighed.
"He was sitting by your bedside when I arrived.
I think he's scared of me.
Lynch is talking to him."

Ingrid relaxed back down into her pillow.

Rosa settled her bottom on the edge of the bed.
"Byrnes seems to be spending rather a lot of time at your side, lately."

"We
are
working together."

"Which explains why he was sitting here holding your hand."

"Rosa—"

"It's all right."
Her friend smiled.
"My concerns over Byrnes' feelings for you have been satisfied.
He's clearly enamored."

Ingrid snorted.
Then twisted her fingers in the pillow, plucking at it.
This time, I intend to win your heart
...
She couldn't quite explain how that made her feel.

Nervous.
Hopeful.
Terrified.

Rosa's eyes narrowed.
"Unless he's said something to the contrary?"

"No," she whispered.
"He said he wants to...
win my heart."

Rosa's skirts rustled as she shifted.
"Hmm.
That was not said in an entirely convincing tone of voice.
What's wrong?"

Ingrid squeezed the bridge of her nose.
"Nothing."

"Is it what you want?"

She looked up, and knew Rosa saw the panic in her eyes.

"Or are you afraid?"
Rosa asked gently.

"What if something goes wrong?"
she blurted.
"What if he can't love me?
What if..."
She swallowed down the lump in her throat.
"I don't think I could handle the rejection right now, if he decided he was wrong."

"If he cannot love you, then he's a fool.
You're entirely lovable.
And what makes now any different to any other time?"
Rosa arched a brow.

Ingrid sighed, and reached for her coat, which was hanging over the chair next to the bed.
She tugged the small worn telegram from her pocket, and passed it silently to her friend.

Rosa read it.
"Another dead end."

"Perhaps the last," Ingrid admitted, in a small voice.

"Only if you stop trying," Rosa replied firmly.
"Your parents are out there somewhere, Ingrid."
She set the telegram down, her lips thinning with resolve.
"And as much as this dalliance bothered me in the beginning, I see something there that wasn't there before.
I never used to believe that Byrnes had a heart, not until I saw the way he looked at you.
I think you're worrying for no good reason, but I can understand, given your past, why you're doing so."
Rosa lay down on the pillow beside her, and turned her head so that their faces were inches apart.
"I want you to be happy.
I want you to be loved.
And despite the fact that Byrnes has his flaws—many of them—I don't think he's the sort of man who would toy with your feelings.
He simply doesn't have it in him to play pretend.
Besides, if you never take the risk, then how will you ever know?
He could be the love of your life.
He might give you half a dozen fat little babies.
Or what if he's a closet romantic, and plans to shower you with love and affection for the rest of his days.
Maybe he's a poet at heart?"

Ingrid thumped her friend with her spare pillow.
Rosa laughed, then hugged her.
The pair of them fell into a breathy silence.

Ingrid bit her lip.
"I'm scared."

Rosa snuggled in closer.
"That's how you know it's real."

A
S NIGHT FELL
and the rest of the house on Baker Street filled with the others, Byrnes found himself chairing a meeting.

"You've looked better," Byrnes told Kincaid as the mech slumped into a chair at the table.
Dark circles blackened both eyes, and Kincaid's nose was swollen and misshapen.

Kincaid's gaze darted to Ava, then away again.
"She patched me up."
He smiled menacingly.
"I hear you've been blowing up bridges."

"Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Aye.
Wish I'd seen it."
Kincaid's smile softened.
"Bet Malloryn's having conniptions right about now."

Byrnes shrugged.
"I think he's got other things on his mind.
Someone did try to kill the queen at his engagement party, after all."

"Unsuccessfully," Ingrid added.
"Thank goodness.
Only a minor bruise or two, according to Rosa."

"So," Gemma Townsend said, lacing her arms across her chest.
"Looks like the anarchists have kicked the hornet's nest.
What are we going to do about it?"

"Are we waiting for Malloryn?"
Byrnes asked.

"He's with the Council.
Another emergency meeting.
They're voting on whether to settle martial law over London," Gemma replied.
"I doubt he'll be back before dawn."

"And the Baroness Schröder?"

"With Malloryn."

Byrnes stared around the table, meeting all of their eyes.
"This began with the disappearance of forty people at the Venetian Gardens, but it wasn't the first time people have disappeared.
We know who took them now.
We know their purpose in doing so—to strike fear into the heart of the average Londoner, to encourage them to rise against the queen.
It's quite clear that London is under attack by these
dhampir
and the SOG, we just don't know why."

"Or if those people are still alive," Ingrid admitted at his side.

There was silence then.

"Do you think they're feeding them to the vampires?"
Charlie Todd asked, and his face was paler than usual.

"We don't know."
The thought, however, had crossed his mind.
"What we do know is that Zero wants me to find her.
She's the key to it.
Find her, find the vampires—and most likely find the missing people."

"And how do we do that?"
Charlie demanded.

"We know the general vicinity in which they're operating," Ava said, tapping the map and drawing a circle with her finger from Clerkenwell to Barbican.
Someone had speared little pins into every sighting.

"This is where we lost the trail when Kincaid and I tried to follow it from the Home."
Charlie pushed a pin into the map.

Byrnes frowned.
"This is the rough area where we lost it from the Venetian Gardens."

The two pins were within four streets of each other.

He added another.
"And this is where Zero gave Kincaid a friendly love tap before she decided she wants to be wooed by me."

"Hell," Charlie breathed.
"They're somewhere in this area."

Excitement flared.
People always made mistakes, if you were patient.
"What's in the area?
I don't know it well."

"Two burned-out churches," Charlie replied.
"A couple of weaving factories, one draining factory, an old asylum, numerous houses.
It verges on Whitechapel territory, so I've patrolled it, but not well.
I think there are a couple of abandoned train stations below that verged into Undertown once upon a time, but after Blade waged war on the slasher gangs that hid down there, we blew some of the tunnels so they couldn't get through."

"Are they all collapsed?"
Byrnes asked.
"Vampires like the dark."

Charlie's blue eyes met his.
"Could be pockets, or caverns.
Undertown always was a warren.
I know people started living down there again in some places once the slasher gangs were gone and they no longer had to fear for their lives.
It's not a nice territory, Byrnes."

"There's an old enclave here too, where they used to house the mechs before they freed us," Kincaid pointed out, tapping the map.
"Been closed for three years."

"Lots of places to hide."
But this was it.
He felt it in his bones.

"So we spread out?"
Kincaid demanded.
"Try and find a vampire?"

"Or three," Ingrid muttered.
"We don't know how many there are, and we also suspect there's at least two of the
dhampir
working against us, thanks to Gemma’s attack at the museum."

Which sobered the entire group up.

"How quiet does this need to be?”
Charlie asked.
“Could we use the Nighthawks for manpower?"

"I'll talk to Garrett," he replied.
“I think the cat’s out of the bag, thanks to the explosion.”

"We need bait."
This time it was Ingrid who spoke up.

The room silenced as they all turned to look at her.

"You're not doing this," Byrnes growled, shaking his head.

"I wasn't talking about me," she said quietly.
"This Zero is interested in you.
She wants you to find her, Byrnes, which I think gives you the greatest chance to survive if you were bait.
She doesn't want to kill you.
Not yet."

"But what if she takes him right out from under our noses?"
Kincaid asked, crossing his huge arms over his chest.
"She doesn't need to keep the rest of us alive.
All she needs to do is take him, and then how do we bloody well find him?"

"With Garrett and Fitz's tracking device."
Byrnes’s voice gradually strengthened as the plan unrolled in his mind.
"Garrett put a tracking device on Perry years ago, following a case in which she almost died."
He turned to Ava.
"Do you think you can get it off Fitz?"

Ava nodded earnestly.

"When?"
Byrnes asked, staring at Ingrid.

She considered the map.
"Tomorrow morning.
As soon as dawn breaks.
We can't afford to do this in the dark, as much as I want to save those people.
We don't have a lot of weapons against a vampire in the first place, but sunlight is our ally at least."

"And we need to let Malloryn know, and prepare," Gemma agreed.

Byrnes took a deep breath.
"Dawn then.”