The Chess Queen Enigma (35 page)

He held a parcel in his hands, which he placed on the bench next to him. I couldn't begin to guess what was in it—it was too large to be one of his special devices; and besides, I already had one.

“Bilbo wasn't supposed to give you three ladies the messages until the next day,” he said, half-turning to face me in the pew. “I knew I'd either be gone from her lair, or dead by that time. Ye'd find my body in the sewers.”

“Lucky for you he did,” I spoke at last.

“Lucky for me . . . but dangerous for you, luv.”

A spark of anger shot through me. I wasn't his
luv
. “What do you want? Why are we here?”

He was different tonight. His insouciant charm was gone, and so was his Cockney. He seemed . . . uncertain. Very unlike the Pix I knew.

Maybe dying
had
changed him.

“I'm sorry you had to see that.”

“What was she doing there? Do you know?” As angry as I was, as hurt and confused, I could no longer keep the questions at bay. “Did you know?”

“Of course I didn't know what she was doing. I'm still not quite certain. But I have some ideas now.”

“Is that why you ran off so quickly? So you didn't have to answer any of my questions? Or was it just that you wanted to see—”
Blooming Pete, shut up, Evaline!
I'd almost said something very stupid.

“Truth was, luv . . . I didn't want ye to see me puking my guts out. Apparently, dying does that to a bloke. I barely made it around the corner—I was holdin' it back for a long time. And trust me—it was a fearful an' ugly sight.”

Blast him. I couldn't hold back a smile. Now that sounded more like Pix. “And it also gave you time to figure out how to answer some of the questions you knew I'd have.”

“There are some things I can't tell ye, Evaline. I just can't.” He looked at me steadily in the drassy light, and I realized with a start he wasn't wearing any elements of a facial disguise. “Not yet. I hope . . . someday, I hope.”

That was something, I supposed.

“From what I could tell . . . from what I remember . . . she was torturing those vampires. Did ye recognize them?”

I realized with a start that I had, but somehow the knowledge hadn't been important in the face of everything else going on. “Lord Leiflett and Mr. Fernhill. They were friends of Mr. Dancy.”

“They'd been frequenting an establishment called the Goose & the Pearl—where the UnDead's been known to prey. I heard . . . did ye truly stake your Mr. Dancy, luv?”

“I did. At Bridge & Stokes, your very own club, Mr. VanderBleeth. How did you know it was me who sent the message in the fake Domesday Book?”

He flashed a smile, his eyes dark and liquid in the dimness. “Did ye really think Bilbo wouldn't tell me ye were in Fenman's End?”

“So you knew it was from me. Did you also know Dancy was a vampire? Did you send him there?”

“I heard later about it. I didn't know . . . before. I didn't send the bloke to the Goose & the Pearl, if
that's
what yer thinking, Evaline. Or to Bridge & Stokes, where he might get attacked—well, bloody hell! I didn't like the bloke, but I wouldn't do
that
.”

The possibility had occurred to me . . . but not seriously. Despite Pix's manipulative ways, even he wouldn't have tried to put Mr. Dancy—or anyone—purposely in the way of a vampire. “I didn't truly think you had. But were they—Lord Leiflett and Mr. Fernhill and the other one—were they vampires before or after the Ankh captured them? And what about the other bodies that were found—the ones Mr. Holmes was
investigating with Scotland Yard? Don't pretend you don't know about them, Pix. You know about everything.”

“Not everything, luv. I don't know who the Ankh is, but . . . to answer your question, I think they were already UnDead when she caught them. It appears she's trying to learn to control vampires. Maybe she wants them to be her minions or something.”

“And what did she want with you . . . and the other men? The other mortals who were found dead?”

He shook his head. “I don't know. Truly, I don't, Evaline.”

“She knows you. She recognized you.”

“Yes. That is highly unfortunate.”

“She was asking you about Mr. Oligary—why? And she called you Mr. Smith. I don't suppose that's your real name . . . is it?”

“Evaline . . . don't you understand? The more you know, the more danger you're in.”

“Oh, right. Because I'm not in any bloody danger
hunting vampires
every night.” I stood, disgusted, and began to stalk away.

He was right behind me, grabbing my arm. With a swift movement, he pulled me back to face him. “Yes.”

“Yes, wha— Oh. Really?
Smith?
The most common, boring name in the world?”

“Why do you think I chose VanderBleeth when I had the chance?”

Blast him! He made me laugh again.

The next thing I knew, he was kissing me. Arms tight around me, bodies close, his mouth soft and sleek over mine. He tasted like spice and warmth, and I lost track of time and place until he pulled slowly away.

I was breathing heavily. So was he.

“Would you have done it to me?” His eyes bored down into mine as he gripped my shoulders. “Tell me, Evaline.”

“Done what?” I tried to focus, but my body still tingled with shockwaves and heat.

“What ye did to Dancy.”

I looked away.

There had been a moment . . . a few very long moments while we were in the Ankh's lair when I didn't
know
 . . . I didn't know if Pix had been turned UnDead. And I wondered. I asked myself that very same question.

The truth was, I didn't know what I would have done.
Then
.

But I did know the answer.
Now
. “Yes.”

He looked down at me, and one hand lifted to smooth the hair from my temple, then to slide his fingers gently along a loose curl. “Thank you.”

He stepped back, turning toward the pew. When he faced me again, he was holding the parcel. “For you.”

I took it. He slipped away into the shadows, robes fluttering like dark wings.

I waited until he was gone before removing the strings and unwrapping the package.

I recognized it immediately. It was the hand-sized, lethal crossbow device Olympia Babbage had been making in her workshop, complete with small, deadly wooden stakes.

A gift—a weapon, created and designed specially for me.

From a man who understood.

Once more, my heartfelt thanks to the entire team at Chronicle Books for making it such a pleasure and so exciting to write the Stoker & Holmes books. It's a joy to work with such a talented, devoted team. Thank you for all the support, from editorial to design to marketing and sales, and all the creative energies you've expended on behalf of Mina and Evaline: especially Kelli, Ariel, Jen, Lara, Stephanie, Sally, Jaime, and Taylor.

To Maura Kye-Casella, for steaming on with me through this series and other projects—thank you for talking me off the ledge when necessary, seeing things from every perspective, and your unflagging encouragement.

A big shout-out to Rachael and Renee Sanders and Bailey Kamp for bringing me much-needed sustenance while I was working on the first draft of this manuscript. I could not have survived that weekend in Vegas without your enthusiasm, support, and, of course, the chips and dip. You rock my world!

Thanks to talented author Kat Richardson for telling me how Betrovians take their tea, and to the supercool Karina Cooper for introducing us in New Orleans.

Gratitude to MaryAlice and Dennis Galloway for being so supportive of this series (and others), and especially to MaryAlice for creating Mrs. Hudson's Stuff'n Muffins for Mina and Evaline! I love those muffins even more than Angus does.

I owe Susan and Marcus Haight the biggest thanks of all for giving me a place to write this book when the rest of my world was filled with construction and noise. You have no idea what a difference it made! Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Also, thanks to John Ditri who unwittingly helped me create the puzzle of the chess queen's hiding place when he pointed out a row of soldiered bricks!

Big hugs of gratitude to Dr. Gary March for helping me work out the medical issues in this and every book. Even though you might quirk an eyebrow and look at me as if I'm crazy, you always help me find a solution. You're da bomb!

And of course, always—love and hugs to my parents, husband, and children for listening, encouraging, understanding, and even plotting (I'm talking to you, StarWarsDude) when necessary. I couldn't do it without your love and support.

Colleen Gleason
is the award-winning,
New York Times
bestselling author of more than two dozen novels, including the Stoker & Holmes series and the international bestselling Gardella Vampire Chronicles. She currently lives in the Midwest with her family and loves to hear from readers. For updates and sneak peeks about her next project, visit her website at
ColleenGleason.com
.