Necrophobia (22 page)

“Forgive my ignorance but what would happen to Kriegsfeld?” Claire asked, already hitting the limits of her political knowledge. The convoluted and bloody politics of the mainland were of little concern to the locals of Caelumons.

“He’s a traditionalist determined to cut us off from the greater empire and return to our old ways. He’d undo decades of progress and civil rights simply to relive the past before the Great War.” Veronica replied. “He’d keep the power and wealth in the hands of those already well off. He funded the formation of the Plague Doctors in response to the plague but he’s no altruist. He’s used that influence to meddle in Night Guard affairs and policies.”

“And Natascha?”

“Unlikely to be an improvement.” Veronica folded her arms with a thin-lipped smile. “Victor is the only shot we have at stability. The entire Pavlovich household would destroy our city in the name of chasing bygones.”

“It would not surprise me if Dmitri keeps Haures under his wings in return for immortality. His rule would be short-lived otherwise. From what I can gather Natascha has made her own deal with Haures to slit her father’s throat, but to what end we can only guess.” Isobel’s expression of contempt was admirable.

“We won’t be able to move against Dmitri directly. We’ll have to target him through his daughter.” Veronica stood up and stalked towards the window watching the setting sun.

“I take it I have your blessing to capture her?”

Veronica took a deep breath and kept her back turned. “Unofficially, of course; I’m sure Hayley and Claire will be an asset to you. I’ll render whatever help I am able to.”

Claire found the interaction fascinating; Veronica a few years her senior now wielded enough authority to order a retired Inquisitor and veteran Night Guard officer with impunity. Once shy and unusual she’d found her element in the complexity of Kriegsfeld.

“Good. I’ll clear this with Warren.” Isobel stood up and limped towards the door. She beckoned Claire and Hayley to follow with her free hand.

“I’d speak with Claire for a few minutes whilst you handle Warren.” Veronica said.

“Send her down to my office. When you’re done.” Isobel replied over her shoulder as she left the room. Hayley exchanged a subtle nod with Veronica before following the former Inquisitor.

Left alone Claire felt scruffy and uncultured next to her old friend’s expensive silks, fine jewellery and affected grandeur. Her torn and re-sewn armour more in line with Hayley’s battered outfit than the elegant woman before her.

“You’ve changed a lot.” Claire said to break the silence.

She nodded. “I have adapted, as have you. Kriegsfeld couldn’t be more different to what we grew up with.”

“No kidding. It’s taking some getting used to.”

“I have confidence you’ll manage. I’ve found my niche.”

Claire watched a tight-lipped smile cross Veronica’s pale face. “You’re a successful doctor, anatomist and vampire specialist these days I hear.”

“You could say that. I’ve had my shares of successes and failures. The vampire curse still interests me — there’s a lot we don’t know about the creatures lurking to the north.” Veronica paused and her gaze drifted outside the barred window. “Perhaps I might be overstepping my boundaries but I confess I am curious.”

Claire remained silent; she had great difficulty reading Veronica’s expressions — no doubt a by-product of her time in high society.

After a short pause she nodded to herself and continued. “Did Isobel mention she reopened Eleanor’s case a few days ago?”

Claire froze. “No, why?”

“Ah.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I know she investigated my mother’s murder for some time but she didn’t give any details.”

“She recently reopened the case as an unsolved murder and she’s been investigating some of Eleanor’s old leads. I am aware you have as well.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I thought you should know.”

Claire crossed her arms and shook her head. “There’s more to it than that isn’t there?”

“A case that has been closed for twenty years is unusual in itself. What might cause someone to investigate a trail that’s long cold? New information perhaps.”

“Or like me she can’t let go.” Claire replied bitterly. “She was murdered and the vampire cult responsible was executed not long after by the Inquisition. That’s the end of it.”

“You don’t believe that at all. You can’t lie to me Claire I’ve had plenty of practice.” Veronica leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I think you should continue to trust your instincts. Isobel may well have uncovered a connection between the cult that Eleanor thought she’d eradicated and one of the ones connected to Haures and his unseen master. We know he’s been investigating and working with vampires for some time now. He wants something from them; and he’s used a lot of resources to try and get it.”

“You’re saying she was murdered because she was close to uncovering their secrets?

“I’m saying it’s possible and that Isobel knows more than she claims. I think it might be related to Haures and his ilk and capturing him is my highest priority right now.” There was a note in Veronica’s voice that rang true with Claire, she seemed to be telling the truth.
Although
, a
good liar always does.

Some small part of her had hoped there was more to her story than she’d been told; a persistent feeling that Eleanor’s death played into something bigger. Something Haures had hinted at; and if he had been responsible for her mother’s death than she’d get her answers and her closure. One way or another.

“What do you want me to—”

The door burst open and Detective-Constable Rosenfeld marching in breaking Claire’s line of thought.

“Chief-Superintendent Warren is on board with it. We’ve received some reports that Natascha and some of those present during the attack on Brinestone are seeking shelter in a warehouse down by the docks. They must have come in on a different ship. Should we move in?”

Veronica nodded. “I think the sooner the better. She may be readying a vessel to leave the city until she can prove her innocence.”

“I’ll get right on that.” Without another glance she left the room once again and could be heard running down the hall outside.

“I thought she worked under Isobel?” Claire asked.

“Isobel’s a specialist given her considerable experience. Her authority is more informal, but Hayley is my special liaison on Lord Strigoi’s authority. You’ll find it simplifies our investigation considerably.”

“Where do me and Sevaur come in?”

“You’ll answer to Hayley. Isobel and I will keep a close eye on things but we are technically outsiders. My position renders it difficult to do anything in person.”

Claire tapped her ring finger on her jaw as she thought. “I understand.”

“The Night Guard are short on people between the plague, civil unrest, vampire infiltrators and our friend Haures. It’s not unheard of for them to recruit external aid during difficult times.”

She’d always heard they were formed from disparate groups of vampire hunters and law enforcers joined under a common cause. Their informal structure and procedure came as little surprise.

Claire turned to leave and meet up with the others when Veronica stopped her one last time. “I do not know why Isobel has chosen to withhold that information from you but she will have a good reason. Isobel does what she thinks is right and will not fear the consequences. She is an Inquisitor through and through.”

Claire said her thanks and left the room, her mind in turmoil at Veronica’s words. Her instincts were right.

Reiner stormed through the crowded cemetery; avoiding the Night Guard still hauling the bodies of the thralls away. Their efforts turning up little and their progress this week insubstantial. Dread already forming within his gut as he considered the report he’d have to make later on. Cynthia kept close not wishing to antagonise the silver-masked officers further. Despite his writ of investigation and insistence otherwise a compromise with the Night Guard sergeant had to be made. As a result Sergeant Locke ‘assisted’ in their investigation, namely by watching and questioning their every move. Locke was an officer dour even by Night Guard standards. With his rigid stance and solemn attitude Reiner may well have warmed to him; but within the once empty graveyard he was an inconvenience. The cemetery encircled and almost sealed away from the outside world left few options for any sizable force to slip in unnoticed. Sergeant Locke reassured them of the security of the perimeter and the competency of the guards assigned on duty. The cult seeped into the graveyard without ever betraying the location of the leak. Reiner paused near the empty grave of Vara Falkner — her tombstone now embedded with a single crossbow bolt. The muffled wind rattled through the trees overhead shaking loose drying leaves as he considered his surroundings.

The graves were packed together and interspersed with extensive mausoleums and ancient yew trees. The thinning tree cover still blocked most of the light from reaching them. In the distance Reiner could make out the overbearing walls lined with spikes and gargoyles surrounding the graveyard. Only the highest mansions and watchtowers could see into the Lychgate from afar.

“That mansion over there.” Reiner directed his question to the sergeant. “Which noble house does that belong to?” He pointed towards one of the nearest manors peaking over the walls.

“Lichtenstein family.” Locke shielded his eyes with his hand. “They own half the textile industry and silkmoth farms.”

Reiner nodded. An over-sized and withered cocoon hidden within the canopy overhead suggested their silk-farms had a few escaped moths. “Any notable criminal history?”

“Nothing official. Stout supporters of Lord Strigoi. Aside from a few minor scandals their noses are clean enough as you can get around here.”

“I see. Anything else?”

“Famous for their feud with the Pavlovich house.” Locke stepped forward over a gnarled tree root and pointed towards another of the nearby mansions. “That’d be their lands.”

The manor loomed closer than the Lichtenstein building. An unusual domed tower rose from one section of the house — an observatory he surmised. The windows surrounding the tip blinding in their reflection of the sun seeping through the fading cloud cover. Reiner winced and looked away; blind spots clouding his vision.

“That telescope is their pride and joy.” Locke continued. “Dmitri’s a famed stargazer.”

“That tower would make a good vantage point.” Cynthia scratched her chin. “You could see a lot of the city with that telescope I’d wager.”

“And the cemetery.” Reiner glanced at the glistening observatory. She was right a view from up there would see a lot.

The Caelite captain filed that information away in his mind for later. It did not explain how his attackers entered the graveyard at all without the aid of the Night Guard. It was an unpleasant but all too possible explanation. Instead he turned his attention towards the tracks in the mud, still damp with the previous night’s rain. The grass beneath lay torn and devastated by the vicious melee mere hours earlier. Scorch marks and bloodstains decorated the once pristine verdure. With time and great difficulty he began to follow the trail of overlapping footsteps away from the melee. At times waylaid by the recent footsteps of the Night Guard blurring the trail. Before long they reached a once resplendent grey-white mausoleum; now ravaged by age and ivy crawling across it. Whatever names and dates the stonework once contained lost to age.

Seeing his interest Locke broke the silence. “The tombs within this section are some of the oldest here. They go back centuries.” He traced his gauntlet’s fingertips across the worn stone door. “There’s a lot of history here.”

“The tracks originate here.” Cynthia knelt beside the closed stone door and pointed at the muddy tracks.

Locke nodded. His face still hidden behind the angular almost draconic silver mask. He drew his crossbow and loaded a bolt before summoning over two more officers to stand guard. Each took up position around the entrance and prepared for the worst. With a solemn nod Cynthia took up position beside them as Reiner pried open the worn door. His gauntlets slipping against the smooth rock before he found purchase and heaved the door aside. Musty air with the unmistakable yet faint scent of incense and preservatives struck him. He pressed up against the outside wall as the Night Guard headed through the open passage; their short-swords and crossbows at the ready.

“Clear.” Sergeant Locke called as he swept the interior. Once satisfied the empty and cobweb infested chamber was clear he helped himself to a torch.

As Reiner’s eyes adjusted to the dingy lighting he could make out the central sarcophagus. The lid sealed tight but the dust around the coffin disturbed and thin. Reaching forward he cupped his fingers around an edge trying to shift the lid to no avail.

“There’s a draft coming up through here.” He tapped the lid.

“Stand back.” Replied one of the Night Guard whose name he didn’t know. The masked officer fumbled near one of the walls with a hidden switch; though cleverly hidden the lack of dust around it betrayed its location. With a clunk followed by a heavy stone scraping the sarcophagus lid retracted revealing an open passage.
That explains that.