The Queen Is Dead (The Immortal Empire) (24 page)

“I understand. That and the fact that you’re cute are the only reasons you’re still in the carriage.”

I arched a brow. “Oh really? You think you could take me, wolf boy?”

He laughed. “I haven’t been a boy for over a century, and I know I could best you. Maybe not in a few years, when you’ve reached your full potential, but I could more than hold my own for now.”

No bravado or mockery, just plain speaking. “Allow me to apologise, then, before you call me out for impugning your honour.”

“Apology accepted. Now, what do you say to directing all that anger at the people who took your brother instead?”

“An excellent notion.” Truly, the man amazed me. It didn’t seem to matter what I did or said, he’d let me know if I’d gone too far and then be done with it, like brushing dirt from his hands. Me, I came from a long line of grudge-holders and brooders.

Speaking of family, I hadn’t heard from Avery yet this evening. I’d asked her to check in when she had the chance. I hadn’t seen Penny either. I pulled my rotary out of my pocket and checked the call counter. I’d missed a call, but not from a number I recognised. Probably someone trying to sell me something, but they’d left a message on my Britme service, so it was worth checking into.

I dialled the number for the service. A few seconds later I heard a young male voice. “Goblin lady? Your Majesty? It’s David–I work at the chicken place? You said to ring you if that vampire bloke shopirravado owed up again. Well, he’s at the front door—” He broke off as a loud crash sounded in the background. I heard the kid shout and then there was nothing.

“Shit,” I muttered as I disconnected.

Vex didn’t take his eyes off the road. “What?”

“The kid that nailed the rat to my door. I think vampires might have nabbed him.”

“Tell me you’re joking.”

“Wish I could. He said the vampire that hired him was at the door. There was a crash, some yelling and then nothing. I think they took him–or they killed him in his flat.” I highly doubted that. No intelligent vampire would want the media to get hold of an aristo-committed murder, especially not when the victim was human.

“You want to go to the kid’s house?”

“No.” I wasn’t being cold–the message was from the night before. “If they were going to kill him, he’s already dead. I might be able to scent the vamp who ended him, but I can do that after the horror show just as easily as I could do it now.”

Bottom line: I couldn’t do anything for David, but I might still be able to save my brother. I hoped finding Val would ease my conscience. The kid might have got himself into this mess, but I had made him my responsibility.

“Fuck it,” I said after a couple of seconds. “Turn around. Please.”

Vex did as I asked in a dazzling display of driving that would have done an American action film justice. It took what seemed like forever, even at a good speed, to get to the estate where David lived.

As we pulled into the drive, we spotted coppers on the terrace talking to a blonde woman I assumed was the kid’s mum. There wasn’t an ambulance anywhere to be seen, nor a hearse. I mentally crossed my fingers that we hadn’t just missed one or the other.

I rolled down the window and listened.

“He’s about five foot seven,” the woman said tearfully. “With blonde hair and blue eyes. He’s a good boy. I don’t know why anyone would take him.”

“He’s not here,” I told Vex quietly.

He nodded. “I heard. What do you want to do?”

I peered through the windscreen at the frightened woman. “I don’t want to do anything with the peelers here. Let’s go. I’ll come back here later.” It was the best I could do. If I got involved now, I’d be on the Yard’s radar again, and Maine would find out about my connection to the kid. He’d probably suspect me of killing him too.

We drove away–hopefully without being noticed.

Cavendish Square was just north of Mayfair’s fortified walls. The entire area was known simply as “Cavendish” these days. It was one of those areas that came more alive at night, but not because of aristo denizens. These people were human–some plague carriers, but still human–with connections to the aristocracy. Courtesans occasionally came from the area, having the right genetic make-up as well as the social requirements that made them good breeding material.

The inhabitants of this neighbourhood often worked for aristos–though not in the gauche manner of actual labour. They clung to the old ways, same as the ruling class, finding employment vulgar. Their positions were carefully chosen, as they were the “human” face of the aristocracy. They were barristers, surgeons, landowners who oversaw their own estates as well tatir pas those owned by their nocturnal relatives.

It was a lovely area–well kept and prettily appointed. Lots of greenery and manicured grounds. Stately buildings and well-swept walks. It was difficult for me to believe that one of
these whitewashed brick structures was going to provide the setting for a murder. At least one.

Vex parked the Panther in a covered area not far from our destination. I noticed the section for horse-drawn carriages was almost full. Granted, it only held maybe a dozen vehicles at best, but that was still unsettling. Just how many aristos came to these things?

As though reading my mind, Vex turned to me after surveying the parking area to make certain we were totally alone. “I’ve heard of halvies and humans attending these things. Goblins too.”

I didn’t want to know that. It seemed so… beneath the goblins that I knew. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Death has always been something of a spectator sport in London.” Public executions used to draw crowds now found only at festivals.

“I need you to know that I don’t condone this sort of thing.”

I looked at him. “I know that. You wouldn’t even be here if not for me.” I took his hand. “I want you to know how much I appreciate that.”

His fingers squeezed mine. “All right then, let’s get this over with.”

Vex left the carriage park before I did. I pinned my hair up and covered it with a black scarf that perfectly matched the black of my snug trousers, corset and top. Even my boots were the exact same shade. I hadn’t planned it that way; it was just a lucky accident of fashionable coordination.

I climbed a set of stairs to the next level of the parking structure. The heavy metal door groaned on its hinges as I pushed it open. I turned and headed for the low concrete wall that allowed me a good view of the street below–and the building across the way.

After a glance around to make sure no one was looking–and that there weren’t any cameras watching from a concealed corner–I hopped up on the wall, bent my legs and pushed.

The edge of the wall crumbled beneath my boots, a few scant pebbles falling to the street below as I sailed through the air. This was what it felt like to fly.

For a split second I didn’t think I’d make it. I’d never tried a jump this large before. It was too far.

And then my feet hit the roof and I landed in a crouch. Fang me, I’d made it. I turned and glanced over my shoulder at the carriage park, seeing just how far I’d jumped. Giddiness rose up in my chest.

I ran across the top of the roof as the sky continued to darken above me. I could see perfectly well as I skirted an oddly placed chimney. The next building was the one where the horror show was being held. Vex reckoned it would be below stairs. Many of these old building had lovely dark cellars with secret escape routes added after the Great Insurrection. I didn’t know how cobbleside remained cobble-side with the maze of tunnels and catacombs beneath this freaking city.

At the edge, I didn’t hesitate, just pushed off with my foot and sailed across the narrow alley to grab on to the wrought-iron gate across the lower half of one of the windows. My body dropped, jerked hard at my shoulder joints. I pulled myself up until my arms were straight down, and swung my legs over the narrow rail. Then, after making certain neither of my shoulders was dislocated, I forced open the window and slipped inside.

The attic was dry and dusty, smelling of old wood and rotted fabric. I sneezed, then froze. Had anyone heard? I
strained my ears for the sound of footsteps. There were people in the building, but far below me, and with enough chatter that I doubted I’d been noticed.

A narrow door in the far wall was the only exit. I turned the handle and looked down an unlit staircase, below which was a hallway. I crept down the stairs, each creaking regardless of where I put my foot. Albert’s fangs, was the entire place conspiring against me?

This must have been someone’s house at one time, though now it seemed to be more of an office or some sort of shop. Old photographs hung on the faded paper–creepy-looking men and women, hand-coloured and stiff. I kept my gaze averted.

Wasn’t I a piece of work? I wasn’t afraid of sneaking into a horror show, but the back of my neck tingled at the sight of pictures of people dead at least eighty years. I didn’t like early photography–it reminded me of a picture album I’d seen at the courtesan house. I’d gone through the pages hoping to find a photo of myself or someone I knew, only to find image after image of dead babies. I hadn’t known they were dead at the time, not until my mother found me looking at it and took it away. There had been a photograph of her in there, holding a wrapped bundle, a lost and hollow look around her eyes.

And now that I remembered it, I felt sorry for her.

I pushed the memory away, ignored the unnerving photographs watching me and crouched in the shadows near the top of the stairs. From there I could hear the voices of people arriving. When Vex had called the number for the recording, he’d also got the password for the night’s show. I reckoned it was a way to make sure no one just wandered in off the street, but it didn’t seem like much of a security precaution to me.
After all, I was there to bugger things up, and I knew the bloody word.

When I heard Vex’s voice, my heart gave a little thump. Silly, really. I hadn’t felt like this since Rye and I first got together. I didn’t have that teenage “oh, I’ll die without him” feeling with Vex, and for that I was thankful. What I did have was fear. Fear that I’d lose him, because every part of me knew he was the best thing that had ever happened to me, and much better than I deserved. He seemed to see something in me that I couldn’t, and while I wondered at it, I wasn’t stupid enough to fight it.

His voice faded, along with the others. Eventually I heard the unmistakable sounds of a door being latched and then another opened. Instead of slipping down these stairs, I turned and looked for the servants’ stairs that all these old buildings tended to have. Eventually I located a concealed door in the back wall. Clever. The wall swung open inwards, revealing a steep, winding staircase barely wide enough for one person.

The wall closed when I stepped over the threshold on to the first stair. There was just enough light from cracks and loose boards that I could see the faint path before me. Thank God for my improved vision, because I doubted even Vex would be able to see his hand in front of his face, though I’d wager William would scamper along sure-footed and nimble, the furry bastard.

There was a landing one floor down, and then the stairs continued. I kept going, following the muffled sounds of conversation. Eventually the stairs stopped and so did I–in the cellar.

As above, the exit here was another concealed panel. I brushed away a veil of cobwebs before searching for the
release mechanism. When I found it, I held the door so ththewith the oat it opened just enough for me to peek out and make certain no one was skulking about.

The cellar floor was dirt, and the space smelled of earth, dust and death–not an altogether pleasant odour, but not terribly offensive either. Since discovering my goblin nature, I’d developed something of an appreciation for the smell of dirt–the soil kind. And death… well, death didn’t necessarily smell bad. It was shit and decay that made it nasty. To me, death smelled familiar–a memory I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

Because scent was such a huge part of being a halvie or an aristo–a goblin–I’d taken pains to disguise mine by carrying a couple of small gauze bags filled with coffee grounds in my pockets. I’d laughed when Vex suggested it, but he said that in America they used coffee to hide drugs from narcotics dogs. If it could confuse a dog, it should work on vampires or weres. Maybe not on goblins, but I wasn’t hiding from them.

I kept my back against the stone as I moved into the open room. Someone spoke on the other side of the wall, and I froze. I knew that voice.

“Two for the price of one tonight. Aren’t we a lucky bunch? You boys would be in an entirely different situation right now if you’d just done what you were told. Still, you’ve served a purpose. When they find your bodies, Xandra Vardan will be the only name on the suspect list.”

What the fuck? The man talking was coming closer. I hugged the wall, shoving myself as deep into the shadows as I could. He walked out of the little room without so much as a glance in my direction, but he didn’t need to look for me to recognise him.

Ainsley. The man who’d broken Dede’s heart. Broken
her
.
He’d used her, got her pregnant and then taken her baby and given it to his useless bint of a wife to raise as her own. I blamed him as much for Dede’s death as I did Church.

A growl rose in my throat, and my fangs threatened to tear free of my gums. I took a deep, silent breath. I couldn’t lose it just yet. I had to be calm. Had to stay in control.