Long Live the Queen (The Immortal Empire) (13 page)

He was pissed off – and right. I had to be as well if our suspicions matched. Juliet might actually care for me on some level, but she wanted to use me just like everyone else spoiling for war. Only Vex seemed to want me for who I was, rather than what.

“Maybe I should give my own interview,” I mused. “Think anyone would be interested?”

Vex snorted. “No. No one at all.” He might as well have rolled his eyes. “I think they’ll queue up to have you.”

I punctured a yolk with a chunk of fried bread. “It could make more trouble.”

He shrugged. “It could also let people know you’re not going to be used as a pawn. Talk for yourself rather than letting others do it for you.”

And this was why I loved him. I grinned at the prospect of putting a halt to so many plans that seemed to involve me whether I liked it or not. Perhaps taking a public stand was exactly what I needed to do.

Talk for myself, indeed.

“Oh, Ali told me something interesting. She said there was a diseased human at the lab. She said that there had been others. Do you know anything about that?”

Chewing a piece of toast, he nodded. “Mm. Sorry, with all the excitement, I forgot to tell you.”

He called almost getting killed “excitement”? He was more hatters than I’d thought. “So you saw the body?”

“We took it. Nasty-looking thing. It didn’t look like anything I’d ever seen, but it had already started to decompose, so it was difficult to tell just what was wrong with it. We thought it was tied to the experiments, so we took it to our own lab to be examined.”

The pack didn’t actually have a laboratory, but there were members who worked for one.

“In fact…” Vex consulted his rotary, “she should have sent the results by now. Ah, there she is.”

I watched as he read the message, his brow creasing into a deep frown. “Christ.”

“What?” I demanded, vaguely panicked. You’d think I
would be accustomed to things getting progressively worse. “What is it?”

Vex met my gaze over the top of his rotary. His expression was grim. “The human died from the plague.”

That was it? Oh, goo—

“A mutated and extremely virulent strain of plague no one’s ever seen before.”

Fuck.

A new strain of the plague? After all these years? What did that mean? And did Ali have it?

I called Val and told him what Vex’s connection had found out. Vex sent the test results to him from his rotary.

“The motorist she attacked showed no trace of plague,” my brother informed us, “but I’ll have our people check again. No reports of anyone coming down with anything remotely like it, and I’m not going to risk complete panic until I have to. The last thing we need is humans losing their minds and coming after us in plague-crazed fear.”

“Sounds good. Any sign of Ali?”

“None.”

Bloody hell. She needed to be found. My feelings for her were so all over the place, but I knew that she had to be stopped to protect people – to protect
her
. Maybe she had
managed to get through the remainder of the night, and into today without killing anyone.

At least we knew she hadn’t killed Victoria, because Her Nibs had demanded a meeting earlier. But where was she? She could make herself look like anyone, and if she could control her hunger, we might never find her.

Would that be so bad? If she learned to control herself, what would be the harm in letting her live?

Perhaps now was the time to admit, if only to myself, that my judgement was not what it ought to be where my daughter was concerned.

My
daughter
. Couldn’t wrap my head around that.

Vex had to return to the pack and get the halfies who had joined him on the raid tested for plague infection, so I decided to go out and do a little searching for Ali on my own before meeting him for “training”. Did I tell him what I was doing? Um, no. Did I have a good reason? No to that as well, though I told myself he had enough to worry about. I had nothing but the ego-overinflating thought that I was the only one who could flush her out, that she would reveal herself to me and no one else.

Bollocks.

And I still hadn’t told him my suspicion that Ali was his granddaughter. I couldn’t drop something like that on him without proper confirmation. Meanwhile, it was better if only one of us was uncertain of what needed to be done about her.

Val sent me an update that said Ali had been allegedly spotted in Covent Garden earlier, so that was where I decided to go. It was probably a hoax, but it was worth looking into, and it gave me a place to start.

There were a lot more protesters around today, despite the
dodgy weather. The gates of Mayfair were crowded with humans carrying signs that proclaimed aristos “unnatural” and declared that humans had been here first. It was the usual drivel, but there was a decidedly intimidating vibe to the whole thing that spoke to something feral deep inside me.

I wasn’t the brightest of bulbs, nor was I what you’d call careful, but even I knew better than to parade myself in front of that lot. They were even bothering the crew stringing a length of wire along the top of the Mayfair fence. That hadn’t taken long – one intrepid reporter and suddenly the neighbourhood was installing better security. I reckoned the electrical charge that would run through that wire once installed would be enough to deter most humans.

Maybe even Ali, as well. Anyway, it was all a little disconcerting, seeing Mayfair being turned into more and more of a prison rather than a haven, so I dragged the Butler inside and on to the lift. If you’ve never ridden a motorrad through the catacombs beneath London, you’re missing out. Of course, you had to know the Met schedule fairly well, but there were enough tunnels and disused track underside that made it easy enough to avoid collision. You just had to have a decent sense of direction, which I did. It was about the only sense I had at all, really, being frightfully deficient in the “common” category.

I rode east, towards Covent Garden, where I came cobble-side. I pulled a knitted hat over my head and tucked my very noticeable hair inside. With my collar up against the chill, and thick-soled boots, I looked like any other young Londoner out and about. Maybe my tailor-made black frock coat was a bit posh, but you could buy similar styles on the high street. With my chin down, I felt confident that no one would take special notice of me.

This was a halfie- and aristo-friendly part of town, but there were papers tacked around, flapping in the wind, that advertised public meetings and spouted anti-aristo propaganda. There were more of them than usual, more than there had been when my house in Leicester Square had been torched. However, there were a lot of posters calling for peace and equality as well. Even a few full of what could only be called aristo propaganda, because they held aristos up as more evolved creatures.

If the humans rose up again – really rose up – we were going to be in for it. There was going to be bloodshed. I had killed before, killed to protect myself, but this wouldn’t be self-defence. It would be war.

If Ali had been here, no trace of her remained. The colder months were often a blessing for those of us with a keen sense of smell – winter was like a vacuum of scent. It made it easy to focus on one smell, but hard to pick out a faint trace. Maybe it was just me, but all I could smell was cold and food. All I could hear was chatter and traffic.

What was I doing? Had I expected her to build me a fucking snow angel? Maybe leave a trail of blood splatter for me to follow like breadcrumbs?

My rotary rang. A quick glance at the flip screen told me it was Val. I picked up. “Hullo?”

“Tell me you’re in Covent Garden.”

I glanced around, suddenly cautious. “Are you spying on me?”

“TrackNav on your phone,” my brother explained curtly. “Look, are you there?”

“You’re the one with fucking TrackNav.” Bloody coppers.

“Xandra!”

“Okay!” I lowered my head and my voice. “What the fuck, Val?”

He paused. That was when I heard the siren kick in – both over the connection and in the distance. “How quickly can you get to Freak Show?” he demanded.

“Couple of minutes if I walk.”

“Run. Penny says there’s trouble. And Xandy – be careful.” Then he was gone – he’d disconnected.

Rotary gripped tightly in my fingers, I took off at a run. What was that smell? My nose tingled.

Freak Show was a club where Val’s sister Penny worked, and where Vex and I had first got together. It was weird and fun, and…

On fire. That was what I smelled. I watched in horror as flames licked up the sides of the pinkish stucco walls. There was a crowd gathered, and for a moment I thought they were trying to help; then I saw three bottles fly toward the building – bottles with flaming scraps of fabric in their necks.

The explosions made my heart jump. Heat pulsed. Someone screamed. The crowd cheered. Fire roared as the sirens closed in. They were still a way off.

I spotted Penny – she and the rest of the staff were out front as well. There were three half-bloods including her, and four humans. The humans formed a barrier between the halfies and the protesters.

“Penny!” I ran up to her.

Penny was a little thing, but she was slightly taller than me in her towering heels. The bright orange wig she wore made her seem even taller. She’d been born male, but no one who knew her thought of her as such. She was Penny Dreadful, and I loved her to bits.

She grabbed my arms. “Is Val on his way?”

I nodded. “Sirens blaring.” She hadn’t called me by name, and I appreciated it. If this crowd figured out who I was…

“Oh, shit,” came a voice behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder. A halfie I recognised as another waitress was staring at the burning building. I turned to look. Penny gasped. Someone else screamed.

And in an upstairs window of Freak Show, a young human girl bawled her guts out in fear. The crowd of humans cried for help. And still the sirens approached. How long before the fire brigade got here?

Where was that reporter with his fucking bucket?

Weren’t the humans all contrite and in a panic now? Not so smug and proud now that one of their own was in danger. Pricks.

“Xandra,” Penny rasped. One of the humans and two of the halfies turned to look at me when she said my name. So much for keeping a low profile. “You have to help her.”

My shoulders sagged. Was I in one of those true-life box dramas that were so popular in the States? Was there a film crew I didn’t know about following me around, arranging shit for me to wade into?

Fang me, but that would make so much sense. However, I knew I wasn’t that lucky.

Sighing, I took off my coat, but not my hat. No need to draw even more attention. I shoved the garment into Penny’s hands and jogged down the alley that ran alongside and behind the club. Val had been abducted from here a few months ago, and I’d accidentally killed a plague-riddled betty on the wet cobblestones. There were humans who treated the plague like a drug and injected themselves with altered aristo blood to
make themselves stronger and generally “more”. It never ended well.

I could climb relatively unseen back here, and that was higher on my list than unpleasant memories. I took off at a run, jumped one foot up on to the back steps, then up to the rail, off the top of the door frame. I pushed up, the muscles in my legs easily propelling me into the air. I grabbed the edge of a second-storey window and used it to haul myself higher. Then I used fingers and toes to scale up to and over the roof. I’d always been a good climber, but my goblin genes had given me an extra boost that was pretty amazing.

As soon as I poked my head up on the other side of the roof, the crowd below noticed me. People began pointing and shouting. They didn’t know who I was.

From where I stood, I could see the flashing lights of police cars, and further back, the familiar red of the fire engine. They’d be here soon, but I was already on the roof and my conscience had kicked in.

I peered down at the smoke billowing out of the window where the girl had been. Why wasn’t there a fire escape on this part of the building? Why hadn’t this girl got out with the others? And why the bloody hell did I have to be her fucking rescuer?

Sighing, I gathered up what bollocks I had and lowered myself over the edge of the roof. It took a few creative manoeuvres – much to the appreciation of the crowd, I might add – but I soon managed to swing into the open window, hitting the floor in the smoke-filled room. The curtains were on fire, as was part of the carpet and a sofa.

I coughed. “Where are you?”

Out of the corner of my eye I spied movement. The girl
came up out of the smoke – she must have been down on the floor like they taught us at the Academy.

One of the firebombs had landed by the door – explaining why she hadn’t been able to get out with the others. The exit was completely blocked by flames.

“Come on then,” I said. My eyes were beginning to water – badly.

“How are we getting down?” she asked, coughing.

I peered out of the window. “I reckon I’ll jump.”

She stared at me as if I was hatters. “I can’t jump – I’ll be killed!”

Killed? I snorted, but it made me cough, choking on smoke. “I’m the one doing the jumping. Now come on!”

When she didn’t immediately leap into my arms, I reached for her. She tried to pull away.

“Please don’t make me knock you witless,” I asked. She looked at me as sweat trickled down my brow. She was like a frightened little rabbit, with her reddened eyes and quivering chin.

“Trust me,” I said, this time with some gentleness in my tone. I nonchalantly stomped out a flame that was licking at the hem of her long skirt.

She took my hand and I led her the short distance to the window. This was going to put paid to all my effort to remain at least partially inconspicuous. No human could make this jump without sustaining some sort of injury. Maybe they’d think I was just a halfie.

I sat on the windowsill, legs dangling outside, smoke pluming out around me. The girl eased her front half out of the room, clinging to me for dear life. I put my arms around her, held her tight, took one last look down and then, oblivious to the noisy crowd and the flashing lights, I jumped.