The Queen Is Dead (The Immortal Empire) (36 page)

She looked from one of us to the other. “That was Father. He was rather distraught.”

I went to her and put my hands on her shoulders. “Dearest, what’s happened?”

“It’s the duchess,” she said, eyes wide. “She’s dead.”

All I could think was,
That was fast.
I wondered if she had indeed wished I hadn’t let her go when her murderer came calling.

Of course she’d been murdered. I’d never known a vampire to die of any sort of natural causes. The fact that she’d been ended so soon after the raid on the Tower told me that the people in charge were scared she might give them up. And I flattered myself a bit by going even further in assuming that they were also afraid of me finding them.

That d

It took balls to kill a vampire in her own home, and a duchess at that. Had one of the staff done it? Maybe. But if it were me who wanted someone dead, I wouldn’t trust anyone but myself with making sure it got done.

Vex didn’t join me and my siblings when we went to my father’s house. He dropped me off and then returned to his
own home to start making arrangements for the were halvies recovered from the Tower.

He wasn’t impressed that I’d asked Fee to help Rye. Apparently she’d convinced him that he’d be better looked after at Bedlam than in the pack. “That’s not your decision,” he said. “It’s mine. I’m alpha and Winter is my responsibility.”

“I love that you take such care of your people, but he needs to be made to feel safe. Bedlam has doctors who can help him and aren’t linked to the aristocracy.”

“I could bring in physicians to treat him,” he protested with a frown.

“Ophelia knows what he’s been through, as do many of the patients there. No offence, Vex, but he wouldn’t trust you, and having the pack coming and going all the time at your place would only make him fear someone was going to grab him again. You know Fee will keep you apprised of how he’s doing. You have so many other people to worry about; let me and Fee take this one.”

His mouth thinned. Maybe he was a little jealous after all. The thought almost made me smile, but I thought better of it. Vex was not in the mood to be teased. “Fine, but I’m going to check in on him myself from time to time, and when he’s ready, he’ll be brought back into the pack.”

“If he’s ready,” I amended. “Vex, they had him for years. What if he’s broken beyond repair?”

“If they’d broken him, sweetheart, he’d be dead.” He reached across and opened my door for me. “Ring me when you’re done. I’ll come and fetch you if you need me.”

I kissed him. “Are we okay?”

A faint smile tilted his mouth. “No, because I can’t stand that you’re good-hearted and only want what’s best for
someone you once cared about. Frankly, I don’t know how I can stay with you after this.” Even though his tone dripped with sarcasm, my heart clenched at his words.

“Honestly,” I tried again. “Are you angry with me?”

Warm hands cupped my face. “Foolish girl. If I was angry, I’d tell you I was angry.” He kissed me firmly. “Now off with you.”

I smiled and slid out of the motor carriage. Avery and Val were waiting for me on the pavement.

“I’m glad you and the MacLaughlin are still together,” Val said, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. It was a warm night and he wasn’t wearing a jacket.

I shot him a surprised glance. “Reckoned I’d have run him off by now, did you?”

To my chagrin, he nodded. “Something like that, yeah.” When he saw my expression, he continued, “What? Even you have to admit you’re not the easiest person to get on with.”

“Vex and I get on just fine–not that it’s any of your business,” I retorted. “And I don’t comment on your love life, Valentine Vardan.”

“What of it?”

“Superintendent Chillingham.” That was all I needed to say. His jaw droy. p>

“How do you know about that? No one knew.”

“I certainly didn’t,” Avery joined in, clearly annoyed. “Thanks for telling me, Xandy!”

I rolled my eyes from her to Val. “I met the woman. Saw her face when she talked about you. Didn’t take much to figure it out. I can’t imagine you’re a peach to live with either, but I reckon she’s happy enough to have you home.”

My brother actually flushed. “She is at that.”

“It’s not fair that Xandy met her and I haven’t,” Avery announced peevishly. “Both of you know Emma.”

“We’ll make dinner plans,” Val promised, putting an end to a conversation he obviously did not want to have. “Now, can we deal with the situation at hand?”

One of the servants had already hung a black wreath decorated with small red crosses on the door as a sign of mourning a full-blood. The plague doctor’s carriage was parked out front, its black lacquer gleaming under the street lamps.

“I hate those bloody tossers,” Val muttered.

I took his arm and steered him towards the front door. “I’ll protect you from the beaked man, Fetch. Don’t you fret.”

He snorted, but didn’t shrug me off. Many halvies were afraid of the plague doctors from seeing them as children. They were morticians for the most part, collecting the bodies of halvies and aristos. They continued to wear the ridiculous masks for reasons that were entirely theirs. Some believed it was out of respect for the dead. Others said it was because the masks resembled ravens or crows, which were once thought to escort the dead to the other side. And then there were a few who said they clung to the old belief that the masks would somehow protect them from the Black Death.

I reckoned the last was the closest to the truth, but only to an extent. At one time the plague doctors had been human, and they would have sought to protect themselves, but the role was mostly filled by halvies now, so what was once protection had now became tradition.

The door was answered by a footman we didn’t recognise–not that any of us had spent enough time at our father’s house to become familiar with his servants other than the butler and
housekeeper. However, said footman recognised each of us, so we were taken immediately to Vardan.

He was in the duchess’s suite with the plague doctors. It was like crossing a threshold into another world. The room was decorated in a style that would have been popular a century and a half ago–delicate feminine furniture with fabrics in lavender and white. A ball gown hung on the wardrobe door–something princessy and better suited for a younger woman. A wedding portrait of the duchess hung above the mantel. I stared at it.

“Is that a smile?” Avery whispered in my ear, catching the direction of my gaze.

“Frightening, what?” I whispered back, fighting the urge to giggle. Of course I wasn’t upset that the old bitch was dead, and yes, a small part of me hoped that some day I might shake the hand of whoever did her in, though since that same person would probably try to end me as well, perhaps a handshake wouldn’t be the wisest course.

My only regret was not getting information out of her. I should have questioned her as soon as we got out of the Tower. I should have hauled her arse home and forced her to give up her cohorts.

A bad smell permeated the room. I didn’t h. Ioulave to guess what it was. It made my nose itch. I glanced at my siblings; neither of them seemed too bothered by it, lucky sods. This was not one of those times when goblin senses came in handy.

Vardan came out of a second small room attached to the suite. He looked like hell. His face actually crumpled slightly when he caught sight of us. Fang me, he truly loved the witch.

He went to Val first. I heard a small sob and immediately turned to Avery, who had turned to me. I’m fairly certain both
of us wore identical expressions of horror and helplessness. What did you do when your distant father broke down?

Thankfully, I didn’t have to find out, because Val had gone into copper mode, asking Vardan what had happened. Avery joined them and held our father’s hand. I went straight for the room with the plague doctors in it.

The two of them looked up from the portable gurney where the duchess lay. They were disconcerting with their long black robes, tall hats and masks. I’ve always found the masks somewhat pretty, though–some of the ones in the Victoria and Albert Museum were quite ornate. These ones were fairly plain, bone in colour, the eyes beneath rimmed with black.

They didn’t speak. If I was there, I had a right to be there, and it was my understanding that they didn’t speak unless spoken to. What if I put on my goblin face, would they speak then? Run screaming? It would be uncouth of me to find out–not to mention disrespectful. Though who I was worried about disrespecting, I didn’t know.

I approached the gurney and looked down at the duchess. She was a horrible sight. Clad in a silk peignoir set, she was stiff, eyes open. Her long blonde hair hung almost to the floor, shiny and smooth. But beyond that, there was nothing pretty about her. Her skin was mottled–ivory, grey and black. Her fingertips were ebony, as was the flesh around her mouth. She stank–putrid and rotting, with a faint tang similar to fish. Only one thing could cause this sort of disgusting package. Tetracycline poisoning.

I turned to the plague doctor nearest me. “Injection site?”

He–or she; as with goblins, it was sometimes difficult to tell–reached out with black-gloved fingers and opened the
dead woman’s mouth. Underneath her sore-covered tongue was an angry red spot ringed with black.

I frowned. She didn’t look like she’d been restrained with ropes or shackles. Whoever had done this had controlled her with sheer strength. That meant it had to be an aristo, or a gang of halvies. But whereas a gang of halvies would call attention, an aristo would not.

“Thanks,” I said to the beaked man, then turned on my heel. My attention snagged on the small French writing desk against the wall. The chair was knocked over and there was a piece of paper on the blotter. I picked it up by the corner with a tissue so as not to contaminate any evidence.

Dear Vardan,

I simply cannot live with myself any longer. I have done terrible things for which I fear I can never be forgiven. I hope you will at least forgive me for this.

All my love,

Imogene

I made the great leap and assumed that Imogene was the duchess’s name. This was a fairly rubbish attempt to make a murder look like a suicide. Of course, that was exactly what it would be called, because the witch had been killed by someone higher up the food chain.

When I entered the main area of the bedroom, the remaining members oninitchf my immediate family turned their gazes on me, as if they expected me to make everything better–or perhaps burst into song.

“You know she didn’t really kill herself, don’t you?” This was directed at my father.

“Xandy, perhaps now is not the time…” Avery began.

“This is important,” I told her. “She was killed because she
fucked up at the Tower. Your Grace, did you know about the Tower?”

Our father shook his head. His eyes were red and he looked like shit. “I knew she was involved in something, but she never confided exactly what. I just supposed it was something Victoria got her into.”

I arched a brow. “As in
Queen
Victoria?”

He frowned. “Who else?”

“Indeed,” I drawled. “I don’t suppose Her Nibs was here last night or earlier this evening?”

“Of course not.”

“Did you have any visitors?”

“I already asked him,” Val chimed in. “Father and Her Grace went out for a ride in Hyde Park. Her Grace seemed distracted, depressed. When they returned home, she came up here to change, and when she didn’t join him downstairs for a drink, he came up and found her slumped over a suicide note on her desk.”

“This wasn’t suicide, unless she somehow managed to inject herself with tetracycline and then hide the syringe that delivered it.” I looked at Vardan. “If you don’t want Special Branch investigating you for murder, I’d suggest you try to think of someone who could have got into your house without alarming the staff.”

My father’s eyes widened. “Murder? I would never murder my wife! Insolent child, how dare you!”

I scowled at him as Avery patted his hand. “I know you didn’t kill her.”

“That’s good to hear,” he chuffed.

“You don’t have the bollocks to kill anyone,” I added. “But the fact remains that someone did.”

His shoulders sagged. “I have no idea what she was doing or with whom she was doing it. If I’d known she was involved in those awful experiments, and that she’d violated my boy—”

“And your girl,” I interrupted. “They were very quick to violate me.”

Vardan rose to his feet and lunged towards me. His shirt was untucked and his cravat was a limp mess. I’d never seen him so out of control. “What did they do?”

My brow pulled. I was tempted to tell him to fuck off. “I don’t know for certain, but it was gynaecological in nature.” Not the kind of thing a girl chatted about to her papa.

He blanched. “Are you ovulating?”

“What? No! Maybe. What are you suggesting?”

“Eggs,” he replied. “I think they took your eggs.”

“What would they want my eggs for…? Shit.”