Timeless - Page 26/45

“We just did.”

“No, Lady Maccon, all the way.”

Alexia was quite shocked. “Like an Oriental?” Her gown would barely permit kneeling and her corset certainly would not permit her to bow forward.

The earl looked equally taken aback.

“You are in the presence of royalty!”

“Yes,” Alexia agreed in principle, “but to kneel on the ground?”

“Do you know how many strangers the queen has allowed into her presence over the last few centuries?”

Lady Maccon could hazard a guess. After all, if she looked as bad as Matakara did… “Not a lot?”

“None at all. It is a great honor. And you should bow, properly. She is a great woman, an ancient lady, and she deserves your respect.”

“She does?”

Conall sighed. “When in Rome.”

“That’s just it, dear, we aren’t. We are in Alexandria.”

But it was too late; her husband had already swept off his hat a second time, knelt, and bowed forward.

“Oh, Conall, the knees of your trousers! Don’t put your head all the way down. We don’t know where that floor has been! Oh, now, Prudence, you don’t have to follow Daddy’s example. Oop, there she goes.”

Prudence had nothing like her mother’s reticence. Frilly yellow frock notwithstanding, she pitched forward and put her head to the ground with alacrity.

Feeling she was the last holdout, Alexia glared at her husband. “You’ll have to help me back up. I can’t possibly manage on my own without ripping my dress.” So saying, she knelt slowly down and tilted herself forward as much as her foundation garments would allow, which wasn’t very much. She nearly overbalanced to her left. Her corset creaked under the strain. Conall hoisted her back up, turning human for that one moment.

Chancellor Neshi went to stand next to his queen, on a pedestal of just the right height to bring his ear to her mouth area but ensuring he was no higher than she. The vampire queen spoke to him in a whisper. Alexia looked at her husband inquiringly, wondering if his supernatural hearing picked up anything.

“No language I know,” he said unhelpfully.

“The queen says that Europeans do everything wrong, writing from left to right, uncovering the head to enter a room yet leaving the feet confined.” Chancellor Neshi stood stiff-backed to state this, like a town crier, acting the mouthpiece for his queen. Then, without waiting for an answer to these accusations of backward behavior, he turned to listen once more.

“My queen wishes to know why all foreign children look the same.”

Alexia gestured with her free hand at her daughter, who was standing in unusual docility by her side. “Well, this particular child is Prudence Alessandra Maccon Akeldama.”

“No,” said Prudence. No one listened. Prudence was to find this all too common in her young life.

Chancellor Neshi continued to speak for his queen. “Daughter of a hellhound, named for a soul-sucker and a bloodsucker. The queen wishes to know if she works.”

“Pardon?” Alexia was confused.

“Is she a Follower of Set? A Stealer of Souls?”

Lady Maccon considered. It was a fair question, of course, but Alexia was too much a scientist to answer in the affirmative. Instead she said carefully, “She manifests the abilities of a supernatural creature after having touched him, if that is what you are asking.”

“A simple yes would have sufficed, soul-sucker,” said the chancellor.

Lady Maccon looked hard into Queen Matakara’s sad eyes. “Yes, but it would not be true. Your names for her are not my names for her. Have you called my daughter and me here, Venerable One, simply to insult us?”

Chancellor Neshi bent to listen and then seemed to engage in a brief argument. Finally he said, “My queen wishes to be shown the truth.”

“What truth, exactly?”

“Your daughter’s gifts.”

“Oh, now wait a moment there!” interjected Conall.

“It can be tricky,” hedged Alexia.

Queen Matakara’s finger twitched on the arm of the chair, lighting a small spark of flame for a brief moment. This seemed to be a signal, for one of her hive darted forward and, in a flash of smooth movement, scooped Prudence up. Prudence let go of her mother’s hand and was otherwise untroubled. Alexia let out a cry of anger. The vampire in question, however, instantly dropped the toddler because he had unexpectedly lost the strength he had no doubt enjoyed for centuries. He probably possessed the ability to maintain his grip, but the surprise was overwhelming. His fangs vanished. Prudence hit the ground with a thud but, being now immortal, sustained no injury. She leaped up, little fangs bared, grubby hands reaching. She was intrigued by the bronze chair with all of its switches and levers. Prudence was one to manhandle first, ask questions later. Much later, perhaps when she was grown up and could formulate a complete study. Most of the time this was mere childish enthusiasm and no more disconcerting than Baby Primrose’s constant groping for trim and feathers, but now Prudence was a vampire, and she had more than enough strength to do some serious damage to that chair.

The vampires, all frozen in startled horror for those brief, awful minutes, jumped to their collective feet and placed themselves between the Maccons and their queen. They were all shouting accusations at Alexia and Prudence in rapid, high-volume Arabic.

One of them nipped forward, hand back to strike Alexia full across the face.

Holding Prudence in both hands, Alexia could not go for her parasol, even had she been fast enough. She flinched away, curling protectively about her daughter, shielding Prudence from the blow.

Suddenly, standing between Alexia and the vampire was a very large, very angry brindled wolf. His hackles were raised, his huge white teeth were bared, and saliva dripped down from the pink of his gums.

It was a terrifying thing to confront for any creature, let alone those who had not seen a werewolf in hundreds of years.

Lord Maccon interposed himself between his wife and the hive and backed up until he was flush against the fabric of Alexia’s skirt.

Alexia took the opportunity, with the vampires’ attention now focused on this new threat, to switch Prudence firmly to one hip and release the parasol from the chatelaine with her free hand. She raised it up, arming the tip with a numbing dart. At the same time, understanding the meaning behind her husband’s consistent furry pressure against her legs, she began backing slowly toward the door.

One of the vampires feinted in the earl’s direction. At the same time, another made a lunge for Alexia. Without break for thought, the werewolf charged the first, grabbing him about the hamstring and hurling him hard into the other vampire. Both vampires crumpled to the floor for a short moment before bouncing back to their feet. Alexia, without pause, shot one of them with a numbing dart. He fell right back down again, and this time stayed there for a while before reeling groggily to his feet.

Alexia began backing with greater intent toward the doorway, not shifting her attention from the milling clot of angry vampires. Conall stuck close, maintaining a snarling, barking, growling ferocity that encouraged space between the vampires and his wife and daughter.

Chancellor Neshi stepped forward, slowly and with empty hands held up in supplication. “Please, Lord Maccon, we are unused to such antics.”

Conall only growled, low and furious.

If Alexia had expected an apology at that juncture, she was sorely disappointed. The man, showing not insignificant bravery, only inched closer and gestured the wolf toward the door like a porter. “This way, my lord. We thank you for your visit.”

Taking that as a statement of permission, Alexia turned and strode from the room with all haste. No sense in dawdling where one was unwanted. After a moment’s hesitation, Conall followed.

Prudence struggled mightily in her mother’s arm, but Alexia had had enough of that for one night and gripped her tightly.

The infant cried out, “No! Mama, no. Poor Dama!” in her high treble and strained back to the room.

Feeling her daughter’s attention shift and possessed by the same compulsion, Alexia paused and turned to look back. The hive vampires stood in a huddle before their mistress, but the dais raised Queen Matakara high enough for Alexia’s eyes to meet those of the vampire queen above the crowd. Alexia was struck once again by the profound unhappiness there and by the belief that Matakara wanted something of her, wanted it enough to bring her all the way to Egypt. How can I help you with anything? Alexia felt a tug at her dress and saw Conall had his teeth firm about her hem and was tugging her into motion. She did as she was bid.

Chancellor Neshi had to jog to catch up. After a moment’s thoughtful regard, the vampire directed his conversation at Alexia, rather than her now-hairy husband. As if nothing unbecoming had happened, he inquired politely, “May we offer you some coffee before you leave?” They walked down the cold stone stairs to the entrance.

“No thank you,” responded Alexia politely. “I think we had better depart.”

“Mama, Mama!”

“Yes, my dear?”

Prudence took a deep breath and then said slowly and carefully, “Mama, get her out.”

Alexia looked to her daughter in startlement. “Are we speaking in complete sentences now, Prudence?”

Prudence narrowed her eyes at her mother suspiciously. “No.”

“Ah, well, still, that is an interesting theory. Trapped, you think. Against her will? I suppose anything is possible.”

Biffy and Lyall spent that night much as though nothing of significance had happened in the previous one. They met with Lady Kingair and proceeded with the investigation as if there had been no fight, no life-altering decision, and no beginnings of a romance.

Lady Kingair sniffed and then glared at the two men suspiciously when they entered the room, but apart from that, made no comment about any change in state. If she noticed they were more relaxed around one another or the little touches they sometimes exchanged without quite realizing, she made no comment.

Biffy was sure Floote knew, because Floote always seemed to know such things. The butler attended to their requirements with the same solicitous efficiency as always. Perhaps more so, as it seemed that without Lady Maccon’s demands to occupy his time and attention, he was ever on hand to help them with anything they might need.

Lyall spent his time looking over all the evidence they had gathered on the owners of private dirigibles in London. He compared these to political and tradesmen’s concerns in Egypt but was unable to come up with any connections. Lady Kingair delved into the manufacture and distribution of sundowner bullets, trying to determine who might have access and why, but this also seemed fruitless. Biffy concentrated his efforts on Egypt and what Dubh might have found there. The man had clearly been inside the God-Breaker Plague zone to have emerged so weakened. Biffy gathered together passenger manifests on trains and steamers out of Egypt, attempting to access baggage information on the theory that, due to his emaciated state, Dubh must have been traveling in the company of at least part of a preternatural mummy on the voyage home. He must have disposed of it, or it had been stolen, as no supernatural creature in London had experienced ill effects upon his return.

Biffy was not one to get easily distracted, but after several hours immersed in manifests of one kind or another, he found himself drawn into an obscure treatise on the nature of the God-Breaker Plague written some fifty years ago. That, in turn, referenced a different report from the very first antiquities expeditions some hundred and twenty or so years prior. Something in the two documents struck him as odd, though he could not pinpoint the particulars. This sent him into a flurry of activity, pulling books on Egypt down from the library and sending Floote off to collect reports from the foreign office on the subject. The God-Breaker Plague was of peculiarly little interest to daylight folk and of particular secrecy to vampires and werewolves, so there was very little substantial information.

“Biffy, I don’t mean to disturb your readings, but you appear to be getting a tad distracted from our original objective.”

Biffy looked up at his Beta, rubbing his eyes blearily. “Mmm?”

“You seem to be delving further and further back in time. Away from our murder investigation. Are you tracking something of relevance?”

“There is something peculiar going on with this plague.”

“You mean aside from the fact that it exists at all, a pestilence of unmaking affecting only supernatural folk?”

“Yes.”

“What, exactly, are you on to, my boy?” Lyall crouched down next to Biffy, where he sat on the floor, surrounded by books and manuscripts.