God Save the Queen (The Immortal Empire) (27 page)

Read God Save the Queen (The Immortal Empire) Online

Authors: Kate Locke

Tags: #Paranormal steampunk romance, #Fiction

BOOK: God Save the Queen (The Immortal Empire)
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I went back inside and waited a few more minutes. Once I had given my statement to Inspector Granger from Special Branch – and she had expressed her sympathy over Dede’s “death” – I left the hospital and tore off in the direction of Bedlam, weaving in and out of traffic as recklessly as I dared without attracting undue attention. I held tight to my anger, because that kept me from
dissolving in a fit of guilt. I had no idea anything would happen to Simon when I brought my blood to him, but I felt responsible for his disappearance.

When I arrived at Bedlam, I parked the motorrad around the corner and hurried through the wrought-iron gate and up the path. It smelled like rain and the waning day was grey. I’d probably get soaked on the way home.

The asylum loomed before me like a house in a gothic novel – as though it was a living, breathing creature of darkness. I had the absurd thought that it would swallow me alive once I crossed the threshold.

Obviously I still had a few issues with the place, but right now, it just pissed me off.

I swept through the front door like the heroine in an American action film, all butch swagger. The guards stiffened at the sight of me, reading my body language as a threat. I smiled. I wasn’t in the mood for their shit.

“Do you have an appointment?” one asked, his hand hovering over the pistol at his hip.

“I don’t need one.” I started to pass by them, but one stopped me with his palm against the top of my chest – just above my breasts. I glanced down at that hand, so large and brown against the pale bit of skin peeking out of my coat.

“You’re going to want to move that,” I told him, raising my gaze to his. “And not down.”

I gave him credit for not smirking, but he didn’t remove his hand. “No appointment, no pass.”

I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, still smiling.

A minute later, as the alarm the other guard had set off rang in the west wing, Ophelia came tearing around the corner looking ready for a fight. I stood just inside the hounds, the two guards unconscious on the floor at my feet.

“Hello, sunshine,” I said cheerfully, stepping over the legs of the guard who’d put his hand on me. “Miss me?”

“You might have called,” she informed me – rather peevishly I thought. She was wearing a long purple frockcoat over her grey trousers and black corset. The coat matched a bruise on her jaw. My handiwork, I reckoned. “Now who’s going to deal with visitors?”

I shrugged. “They’ll be awake soon.” A moan from behind me proved me right. “See, one’s coming round already. Take me to Juliet.”

Ophelia’s blue eyes glittered. “Say please.”

Good Lord, we really were sisters. I found myself smiling at her in a demented fashion. “Pretty please.”

I had the pleasure of seeing some of her bravado waver. She wasn’t a stupid girl; she simply didn’t trust me any more than I trusted her. She did, however, know that I was spoiling for a fight, and that I had the undoubtedly lucky advantage of being slightly unhinged.

The second guard began to come round as she watched me. The first sat up slowly. Ophelia glanced grimly at them before jerking her head back. “Come on then. I’ll take you to Mum.”

I despised her right then. I blamed her for a lot of this – even the shit that had nothing to do with her. It was convenient and made me feel better. She could call Juliet “Mum” without a second thought, while I felt as though I should ask permission, even though I would rather razor-blade my own tongue than admit that I wanted to have such familiarity with the woman who’d borne me.

“You know they can track you here,” she muttered.

“Taken care of.”

She glanced at me – warily. I wasn’t about to tell her about the displacer, just in case she decided to put a silver bullet in my brain and cut off my head.

My half-sister didn’t seem to like having me walk behind, so
I fell into step beside her. Our strides matched almost perfectly, as did the slight swing of our arms. Neither of us spoke until we reached a set of double doors near the end of the west ground-floor corridor, behind which I could hear the muffled sounds of sparring. Ophelia opened them – with a bit more of a dramatic flourish than I thought necessary – and gestured for me to enter.

Across the threshold was what must have been a dining hall or ballroom at one time – a really large space. Whatever it had been, it was now a gymnasium and training room for their treasonous rebellion.

On a large tumbling mat my mother – looking better than a woman her age ought in pink spandex – sparred with a large man. They weren’t using any particular school of martial art, but rather seemed to incorporate whatever suited them. Arms and legs spun and struck with impressive speed and force. They weren’t fooling around.

It took me perhaps two seconds to realise that my mother moved entirely too fast to be a normal human. Why was that? If she had visible sores I’d suspect her of being a betty, but she looked far too healthy.

Then her opponent struck a particularly effective blow and knocked her back several feet. Being a courtesan didn’t give her any more strength or speed than a regular human. The strike should have laid her out. My mother didn’t even fall. She came at the man with a snarl.

A freaking snarl that sent a shiver down my spine. Albert’s fangs – the hits just kept on coming.

I didn’t need to see the gold sheen to her eyes to realise the truth. My mother was a fucking werewolf.

 

I’ve never fancied myself one of those people who, early in Victoria’s reign, might have been described as having an overabundance of spleen, or an imbalance in their humours, but I’d had a lot of things happen to me in the last couple of weeks and there was a bubble of near-hysterical laughter stuck to the back of my throat. Since the treatment for hysteria was basically vibrator-induced orgasm until one was too weak and too sore to “fuss about” any longer, I held the laughter in check. I liked the big O as much as the next girl, but that really wasn’t what I needed right then.

Although I couldn’t quite say what I did need at that moment. So I sat down on a chair against the wall and ground the heel of my left hand into my forehead, elbow digging into my thigh.

I’d never heard of a courtesan being turned before. Courtesans were for breeding, not turning. I had to think that more of these women would have been changed into full-bloods if it was that easy, but perhaps then they couldn’t breed halvies. Obviously my mother had been turned after I was born. By whom? And why was I just finding out about it now? Was her turning part of the reason my blood was supposedly being monitored? Was it because of her aristo-friendly genes that I was considered odd? She was more than just a carrier if she could be turned.

“You all right?” It was Dede who asked. She’d come in just a few seconds ago.

“Do I fucking
look
all right?” I demanded, glaring at her as she stood over me.

Her lips twitched. I think she was enjoying this. “You look like you’re about ready to toss your pot.”

What she lacked in eloquence she made up for in accuracy. I was feeling a little sick. That feeling intensified as my mother approached – her opponent dismissed. Juliet had a concerned and slightly horrified expression on her face. I watched as the gold faded from her eyes.

“My dear girl. I never meant for you to find out like this.”

That would indicate that she meant for me to find out eventually.

“When?” It was all I could think of – the only thing that seemed important at that moment.

My mother placed her hand on mine. Her skin was almost hot compared to the chill of my own, but then werewolfs ran a little hotter than the rest of us. “When I was pregnant with you,” she replied softly. “Three months.”

Now I knew why she had given up being a courtesan after I was born. She had to.
Fang me
. “That’s why you wanted to check my blood, to see if it did anything to me.” And it was why my blood looked weird to Simon. I’d have markers that belonged to vamps, halvies and weres.

Her expression was grim. “Yes.”

“Who was the were who did this to you?”

“I don’t know. It was dark, and my senses were human then. I never saw his face, and afterward … our paths never crossed.”

I had the feeling she would have killed him if they had. “Why didn’t you have me tested when I was young?”

“Your father did, but he told me there was nothing to worry about.”

I met her concerned blue gaze in surprise. “Vardan knows?”

She made a choking sound as she chuckled humourlessly. “He found me after the attack. For all I know he could have instigated the whole thing.”

I glared at her. “He would never.” How could anyone take such a risk with the life of the woman carrying his child?

A thin blonde brow arched. “Such misplaced devotion. You don’t know His Grace like I do, my girl. After I was bitten I told your father I would have to have an abortion as the law dictated. He wouldn’t let me.”

My spine straightened. “He didn’t want to lose his child.”

“He wanted to see how you’d ‘turn out’ – as he put it. I assume that’s why he continues to monitor your blood.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It was as though I had the lead role in some bizarre panto and didn’t know my lines.

Ophelia kicked my chair. “Don’t you get it? You’ve been a lab rat your entire life. They’ve been studying you.”

I shrugged. “If I was that much of a freak, wouldn’t they know by now? Wouldn’t
I
know?”

“It would be in their best interests to make you think you’re normal.”

I winced. “I suppose you’ll find out when you get your test results back.”

My mother dabbed at her damp brow with a towel. “Didn’t you take your own vial for testing?”

More laughter – just a chuckle this time. I leaned back and rubbed a hand over my eyes. If I didn’t laugh I just might become what my father liked to call “a watering pot”. “Right, here’s the kicker – my blood and the bloke who tested it have gone missing. It looks like there was a struggle. That’s why I came here. I thought perhaps you lot might know something about it, but you don’t, do you?”

I looked up at my mother, so young and beautiful, her pale brow marred by a frown as she shook her head. She looked worried, and I wasn’t comforted by the fact.

I looked from Juliet to Ophelia and back again. “No one else knew.”

My sister spoke first. “Did you talk to this man on your rotary?”

“Yeah. Someone obviously overheard his end. That or I have a huge coincidence on my hands.”

“You said there seemed to have been a struggle?”

I nodded, shoving my thumb and middle finger along my aching brow. Headaches were rare amongst halvies, but I was working on a good one right now.

“You need to get a new rotary,” my mother said. “Don’t tell anyone about it. Use it only in emergencies or to call us.”

“You think someone tapped my phone?”

“Either yours or that of your friend.”

Albert’s fangs. I really was in an American action film. Any minute now some bald man would pop up with a machine gun and call me a motherfucker. Why hadn’t I thought of the tap being on my end? I was paranoid about everything else.

I was starting to feel a little shaky. I took a sealed packet of supplements from my inside coat pocket with the intention of swallowing them – maybe with a biscuit.

Ophelia snatched the packet from my hand. “Yeah, don’t do that.”

I watched as she tossed them in the bin against the wall. “Oi! I need those.”

“No you don’t,” she replied, “they make you weak. They contain pharmaceuticals that suppress reflexes and instincts. I can give you proof. God knows what else they put in yours.” My supplements would not be the same as Avery’s or Val’s, and we were always cautioned never to take another halvie’s supps unless we absolutely had to.

Bloody hell, was there anything in my life that was right side up? I sucked in a deep breath. Just because they told me these things didn’t make them true – I had to remember that. But the easiest way to find out was to stop taking the supps and see what happened.

And the next time I saw Vardan I’d ask him about my mother becoming a were.

My father had a good reason for keeping this from me – just as
I knew Church had his reasons for concealing the truth as well. Maybe everyone under this roof was one of the bad guys.

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