Supernatural Devices (9 page)

“Would this work?” Scarlett asked as Cruces came back with the tea.

“Undoubtedly, with the right materials. The design would spread the pressure of the water evenly, so it is merely a question of coming up with a sufficiently strong yet clear substance. I have tried a few things. And now
you
must try your tea.”

Scarlett did. It was better than she had imagined it would be. It was warm, strong, and smooth…the flavor evenly dispersed. “You said that we would talk about the case,” she said after she had sipped it. “Or was that simply a ruse to get me here?”

“Not at all,” Cruces said. “From what you said back in the station, you found both Cecilia and the ring immediately before the Order acted.”

Scarlett nodded. “I did. I also listened to what Cecilia had to say on the subject. You know that she considers you to be a thief?”

“
I
am meant to be a thief?” Cruces asked incredulously, but his expression grew thoughtful. “Yes, it is possible that she would believe that.”

“She said that the ring was rightfully the property of Romanian royalty, and that merely buying it for a collection did not make it yours.”

Cruces laughed. “I suspect that the city’s auction houses would argue with that view. In any case, it is rightfully mine.”

“Really, you are Romanian?” Scarlett looked at him closely.

“That is perhaps not a helpful term. The country is a young one, after all. Barely ten years old.”

“But you are from that region?” Scarlett pressed.

Cruces cocked his head to one side. “I notice that you do not question whether I am royalty or not.”

It was Scarlett’s turn to laugh. “Ah, but you have to be. It explains so much about you. Your insufferable arrogance for one thing.”

Cruces sat there and sipped his tea for a moment, then put it down abruptly. “There are more things I should show you,” he said. “Will you come with me?”

Scarlett followed Cruces as he led the way back through the house, and then upstairs. That made her a little apprehensive, because a small part of her suspected that they were heading for Cruces’ chambers, where a young woman of good breeding should never be alone with a man. Particularly a young man known to be a rake. Scarlett was willing to go along with him for now though, partly because whatever he wanted her to see was obviously important, and partly because she suspected that Cruces was not quite the mannerless man he pretended. Indeed, once she pieced together what she knew of him, she had to wonder if he was a man at all.

Cruces led the way up to a long room at the front of the house, which seemed to serve as a kind of gallery, housing a collection of artifacts of a much less mechanical bent than those below. There were portraits on the walls of individuals who seemed to share Cruces’ beauty, along with flags taken from lands Scarlett did not recognize, and which might well no longer exist. A couple of ancient swords were crossed on the walls, while a series of glass cases held objects of worked gold and precious stones, from a small coronet to a medallion inscribed with a very familiar crown and eagle mark. Scarlett looked down at her wrist. The two marks were the same.

“Do you believe me yet?” Cruces asked.

“That the ring is rightfully yours?” Scarlett thought for a second or two. “You realize that a more skeptical person might say that merely buying these things does not make you royal.”

“A more skeptical person, yes,” Cruces agreed. “But what about you, Miss Seely? Scarlett. What do you believe about me?”

Scarlett nodded, taking a breath. “I believe you. In fact, I believe
two
things about you, Cruces.”

Cruces looked at her intently. “And what might those be?”

“The first is that you are what you claim to be. The ring is yours. You are royalty, from the region now known as Romania. The second…” Scarlett steeled herself. The deduction seemed clear enough, but it would still be embarrassing should she be proven wrong. “The second is that you are what those people considered to be the most royal of royals…an extension of the first Prince. You are a vampire.”

Cruces nodded, seeming genuinely surprised. “Impressive.”

Scarlett shook her head. “Not very. I should have known it the moment I saw you run, or when you insisted on that ‘wine’ of yours, which I imagine was blood. As it was, I had to wait until you marked me and all but said you were not human. Until you had displayed a knowledge of vampires in front of Tavian.”

“You do not seem bothered by the knowledge,” Cruces observed. “I imagine most young women of this time would spend their time fainting if they found out such a thing.”

“I am not most young women,” Scarlett pointed out.

“That is true, at least.” Cruces still seemed impressed, or at least intent upon her.

“And I have spent most of my life with the supernatural around me,” Scarlett continued.

“So what I am really does not trouble you?” Cruces asked.

Scarlett shook her head. “If anything, what you are merely explains a few more things about you. I’ll have you know, Cruces, I find supernatural men very interesting.”

W
ith what he was established, Cruces finally escorted Scarlett back home to the townhouse her family had over in Westminster. The walk was not a long one, and Scarlett was grateful to be getting back there. She had been wearing her travelling clothes for too long now, and needed to change them for something more useful.

The house was quiet when she arrived, which was somewhat surprising. All the other homes on the street had servants sweeping the doorsteps in the early morning light, yet hers did not. Nor did anyone come out to greet her. Immediately, Scarlett was on her guard, reaching down into her purse to grip the dagger within, while Cruces moved a little ahead of her once she had unlocked the door. Neither of them spoke the obvious fear, which was that the Order had attacked her home.

Cruces went inside first, stepping into the parlor. From within, Scarlett heard a familiar voice.

“What have you done with Scarlett?”

“Gordon?” Scarlett ran into the parlor to find a neatly but plainly dressed young man of about nineteen holding a rapier leveled at Cruces’ heart, so close that it had already torn his shirt. His dark blond hair was cut short, giving his otherwise ruggedly handsome features an impression of seriousness that was not helped by his current expression. “Gordon!”

As Scarlett entered the room, his features lit up with relief, while Scarlett found herself smiling. Gordon Harris was one of the things she had missed about London. Nominally her fencing tutor, he in fact assisted Scarlett in most of her more physical studies when she was in the city, and had been a good friend for years. Scarlett had not known that he would be home. In fact, she had thought that he would be away visiting family while Scarlett was on the dig with her parents.

“Gordon? What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, of course,” Gordon answered, lowering the sword. “Your parents wired me to say that you would be returning, yet when I showed up last night, you were not here. There was just your luggage. Then we had some excitement with would be burglars in the night, and… well, you can imagine that I was worried.”

“Burglars?” Scarlett repeated.

“A couple of shadowy types tried the door in the early hours,” Gordon explained. “I didn’t get a look at their faces, but I stayed around to make sure they did not return.” He nodded to the sword. “And I kept this close just in case. I’m afraid the servants are all out looking for you at the moment. We were all very worried.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Scarlett said. “I cannot say the same of Lord Darthmoor’s shirt, though.”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” Gordon said.

Scarlett introduced them. Cruces gave Gordon a frosty nod of acknowledgement. Was that simply over the misunderstanding, or something else?

“You came down to London at such short notice?” she asked Gordon.

Gordon shrugged. “I know you, Scarlett. I assumed that the only thing that could make you come back so quickly was some kind of adventure, and I didn’t want you to have to do it on your own.”

“Scarlett has not been alone,” Cruces said, taking Scarlett’s hand in his. “I have been with her the entire time.”

“So you are a detective?” Gordon asked.

“Lord Darthmoor here is my client,” Scarlett said. She sat down on one of the parlor’s couches, and Gordon sat beside her. “His case is turning out to be quite a complicated one.”

“Then perhaps I can help,” Gordon suggested, with a glance over at Cruces. Was there an undercurrent of something else in the suggestion? Scarlett wasn’t sure.

“This is Lord Darthmoor’s case,” Scarlett said. “It really isn’t up to me.”

Cruces shrugged. “Let the boy help. If he is intent on being here, then at least he can try to be useful by protecting you when I am not here. Although I intend to be here most of the time.”

Scarlett stiffened. “I don’t need to have you around me all the time.”

Cruces smiled. “That is probably what Cecilia thought too, before she disappeared along with the ring.”

Scarlett shuddered at that, and Gordon reached out to put an arm around her, obviously mistaking it for cold. Cruces stiffened slightly at the movement, but then, he did not know that it was only Gordon. Gordon was not making any kind of romantic move. Gordon was simply Gordon.

“What’s this about a ring?” Gordon asked. “And who is Cecilia?”

Scarlett did her best to explain about the missing girl and ring. “Of course,” she said when she was finished, “things have become more complicated now, because it seems Cecilia was taken by a group known as the Order. Presumably, I will have to find them now to find Cecilia.”

Scarlett looked over to Cruces and found that he was shaking his head. “I’m afraid not, Scarlett. I believe this case is getting too dangerous. Especially now that you have been marked by the Order.”

“Marked?” Gordon’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

Scarlett raised her hair to let Gordon see, and the young fencing instructor tutted over the symbol.

“This is…”

“Dangerous,” Cruces finished for him. “It means that the Order can find Scarlett whenever they want. It is one reason that she must be guarded at all times.”

“And to achieve that, you mean to throw me off the case?” Scarlett demanded. “Do you really think I will stand for that? Have you learned nothing about me?”

“Scarlett,” Cruces said, “I am merely trying to…”

“I know what you are trying to do,” Scarlett interrupted, then went out into the hall to fetch one of her cases. She laid it down on the parlor floor, opening it to reveal contents that had little to do with the fripperies and finery of most young women. Devices gleamed in the light coming through the window. Several of them had blades. “I will say it once more. I am not defenseless.”

Cruces raised an eyebrow. “I thought there was something different about you,” he said with a smile. “We share quite a bit in common besides a passion for sleuthing, don’t we? What do they all do?”

Scarlett began with a set of gold-plated goggles. “These enhance my natural sight for the unseen, allowing me to see through illusions. A gift to my mother from the fey of Scotland.”

Next, she took out a compass, which spun until the needle pointed straight at Cruces.

“Ah ha!” Scarlett said. “It’s working quite well.”

Gordon got up and stood next to Scarlett, examining the compass carefully. “Why does it point to Darthmoor like that?”

“It’s another supernatural device,” Scarlett said. “It detects and points out supernatural beings.”

“Darthmoor?” Gordon asked. “Why, what is so supernatural about him?”

Neither Scarlett nor Cruces answered that one, but Cruces did look uncomfortable. “I should go,” he said. “I did not drink satisfactorily last night, and so…”

Scarlett nodded, understanding. What would it be like to live with those constant cravings? “You will not kill anyone?”

“That is not something I do now,” Cruces said. “Believe me, all those I drink from are willing enough.”

Scarlett could believe that.

“Now, I will go,” Cruces continued. “And later, I will ask Holmes to take over this investigation.”

“Please don’t,” Scarlett begged. “Have I not just proved to you that I have the tools to successfully conclude the matter?”

Cruces shook his head. “The Order does not play games. This is not just a matter of tracking down the ring and retrieving it from a foolish girl anymore.”

“Cruces,” Scarlett said, abandoning formality in an effort to get through to him. “I am going to help you whether you want me to or not. Cecilia needs my help, and so do you. I am going to retrieve that ring for you.”

“Do you really think you are going to be able to keep yourself safe from the Order?”

“I have my knife,” Scarlett insisted.

“In your purse where you will have no chance to get to it,” Cruces countered.

Scarlett stood and took a sheath from her case, lifting her skirts high to strap it to her leg. “Then I will simply have to keep it elsewhere. Oh, don’t look so shocked, Gordon. It isn’t like I’m stripping off in front of the pair of you. Did you think young women did not have legs?”