The Complete Adventures of Victoria Neaves & Romney

by Michael White

  Romney took Fanelda under his wing, and Victoria was surprised to find she was a relatively young girl with long dark hair and a lively smile.

  “Pleased to meet you, my dear.” Said Victoria the first time she had spotted a nearly visible Fanelda apparently dusting soot from the living room fire. The girl had looked over her shoulder shyly. She was semitransparent by then, though Victoria could not really tell if she was blushing or not.

  “Pleased to meet you, my lady.” Said the spectral maid in what just possibly have been a Welsh accent, “Don’t mind me dusting the fireplace, see. Just don’t ask me to do anything with horses like.”

  “No horses, Fanelda.” Smiled Victoria and the maid vanished up the chimney, smiling as she went.

  It took no more than six weeks after purchase for Victoria to move in and begin to live quietly amongst the villagers of Little Cookham, neither seeking company nor turning it away when it arrived on her doorstep. Of course to the villagers it was almost as if she were a famous music hall star or politician, though being a woman they considered the former more likely that the latter. It did not stop the villagers welcoming her to their environs however. They had seen the steam wagon upon many an occasion, and there seemed to be an almost constant stream of deliveries of furniture, carpets and the like to the house, none of which passed the eager eyes of the local community.

  “I tell you now she must be a millionaire.” Said Joseph Tully who had been supervising the cleaning and decorating of the house after its relatively short period of non-tenure, “The furnishings going in there are fit for a royal palace and that’s no mistake. There’s a writing and cognition desk there that must be worth a thousand guineas for a start! Opulence all around I tell you, Opulence indeed!”

  So rumours had grown about the lady occupant of the house on the hill as the villagers called Victoria’s property. Victoria herself was unsure quite why they called it this because it quite simply was not on a hill, but she also quite liked the sound of it and decided that the naming vagaries of the English countryside were sufficiently beyond her and therefore best left well alone. First she was a forgotten heiress, next a widow of a property tycoon from the city, then the discarded daughter of one of the higher datacrafters lifted up by the patronage of Babbage and all. Not a single one of the villagers hit upon the fact that she was an augmented assassin with light fingers and a list of people in very high positions as long as your arm that wanted her dead.

  Though they left her alone primarily. Smith had been right she found. The establishment wanted to forget about her, and they wanted no fuss. As long as that was the case then everything would continue as it always had and the status quo would remain. Victoria felt sufficiently settled after her first three months in residence to use one of the several paddocks she owned at the rear of the house to build a zeppelin tower, sufficiently large enough to garage one of the smaller saloon class of dirigibles. Again, it was top of the range and most of the villagers stopped in their gardens and turned their eyes skyward as the livery of one of the very latest Villiers - Royce zeppelins floated over the Berkshire countryside, and the village of Little Cookham in particular, before descending to the house on the hill and docking with the brand new zeppelin tower that had recently been completed there.

  “Don’t be too swanky.” Said Romney when she had discussed her plans for the new zeppelin with him. “They have left you alone because you haven’t rubbed their noses in it. Don’t let that change or they will send everything they have against you.”

  “Of course not.” Smiled Victoria, “I just thought if I have to travel to London then the skimmer just doesn’t do it anymore.”

  “Just be careful Victoria.” Said Romney, and Victoria paused slightly. It was most unusual for her blood bound third circler to call her by her full name. She actually felt as if she was quite possibly being told off.

  “I will.” She said quietly, watching Fanelda clean the fire slowly but carefully, night settling in around the house, bird song ceasing in the grounds outside as night fell.

  The first assassin arrived exactly seven days after she had taken delivery of the new zeppelin. Victoria had retired to bed at nine o’clock. She felt tired after a long day attempting to communicate in vain with Mister Rollins the gardener in an attempt to ascertain exactly what his plans for the grounds were. Eventually she had given up, her voice hoarse and her wits in tatters. The man was good with a trowel for certain but he did also seem to dwell inside his own little world sadly.

  She was just climbing into her large comfortable bed, the curtains blowing casually in a late summer breeze across her room when the higher end of her hearing picked up a sound from the roof above her room. She paused for a second and then discarding her nightdress she moved silently across the room, her speed unnatural, her augmentations allowing her to move so quickly she would be but a blur to anyone watching her. She opened her bedroom door just a blue arc of electricity forked across the room.

  “Boss.” said Romney into her head, “Magnetic pulse. I can’t see anything.”

  “I didn’t know it would affect you.” She said in her mind, listening to Romney mumbling almost to himself.

  “Me neither. It’s something new. Run a complete system check on yourself. I can’t. They have blinded me.”

  “Command: STATUS” she said aloud, pausing by her bedroom door as a small round object floated through her bedroom window and into her room, smoke flowing from it, filling the room slowly but surely with a thick purple mist. She held her breath, her vision scanning the room for any movement. Breathing was no concern for her. Her augmentations gave her an almost endless lung capacity. She did not need to breathe. She had tried to find out how long she could go between breaths a few months ago, but had forgotten that she was doing it after three days and was not inclined to try and find out again, so boring had the experience been in the first place. Nor was vision a problem. She could “see” on several spectrums, from infrared to enhanced distance and many other spectrums in between.

  “All systems functioning correctly.” She said aloud, and she opened the door and shot along the corridor, opening the upper windows on the far side of the house, and easing herself out of the open window and onto the roof.

  “Two heat signatures on the roof.” Said Romney, “My vision is clearing.”

  “Got them.” Smiled Victoria, “Let’s go see what they want.”

  “Boss.” said Romney, “You do know you’re naked, don’t you?” He chuckled.

  “Of course.” Said Victoria, “Nothing gets in the way then.” She leapt across the tiles to the apex of the roof, the moon large and full overhead. It was a leap of a good forty feet but it was nothing to her. She almost glided to the eaves of the house, looking down at the two small shapes gathering about the edge of the roof above where her bedroom window still stood wide open, purple smoke rising into the moonlit sky from that direction.

  “Automaton.” Said Victoria, ‘Big one too. Fast I would say.” As if in answer a small hiss of steam could be heard from the larger two of the figures on the roof. “I will deal with the human one first.”

  “Good plan.” Said Romney, “I am about 90% back to full operation.” He said, “Getting better by the second.”

  “Good.” said Victoria, “When we are done here I need to access the latest magnetic pulse research by the look of it. I don’t like being taken by surprise.”

  “Me neither.” Said Romney glumly, “I have got a bastard of a headache now.”

  Victoria raised her right hand and pointed it across the roof. There was a small flash of blue light from one of her fingers followed by a tight scream from the edge of the roof and one of the figures vanished completely. There was a short gap and then the sound of breaking flower pots could be heard from below.

  “If he has crushed my Rhododendron I will have his balls on a plate.” Sighed Victoria as the other figure seemed to spin in the moonlight, red LED eyes focusing on her with alarming speed. She shi
fted spectrums with her eyes, and now the figure perched on the edge of the roof glaring at her was perfectly visible. She cursed under her breath as she examined the figure. It was stoutly constructed, humanoid in shape but completely made of metal, copper coloured hoops covering its chest below a low round head that held two red spots for vision. It shone vaguely golden in the moonlight and then moved quickly towards her, a bright red beam flashing from its eyes towards her.

  Victoria flung herself sideways as the tight burst of lasers impacted with the roof where she had been standing but seconds before. The automaton was already moving though, rushing towards her and as it drew close Victoria sprung forward. As the creature reached for her she placed one hand on its shoulder and pirouetted over its head, landing lightly behind it and thrusting her elbow into its midriff, sending it off balance.

  She grunted with surprise as the automaton’s head spun around a full three hundred and sixty degrees, its face now revealed to be metallic and featureless apart from the two red dots of the laser ports. Victoria ducked quickly and felt the beams shoot above her head, incinerating the air.

  “Keep out of the reach of those lasers, boss.” Said Romney and Victoria tutted aloud.

  “I am doing my best.” She grunted, lifting the creature from the ground and throwing it to the roof, its twin lasers flashing around her as she did so. Luckily she avoided them all, her head bobbing to and fro far too quickly for the human eye to follow as she dodged the creature’s assault. “Just accessing schematics.” She grunted, twisting the automaton sideways and hitting its head against the roof tiles, “The society of assassins seem to have upgraded their security somewhat though.”

  The creature shifted its weight as Victoria slammed its head against the roof one more time and pushing her arm to one side slid slightly down the roof. Victoria grabbed it again and lifted it slightly, slamming its entire body against the slate tiles.

  “It is quite heavy!” She grunted, avoiding the lasers once again, “Ah. Wait. Here are the plans now.” She jumped free suddenly of the automaton, leaping over its head and higher up onto the roof. The device gave a small hiss of steam and pulled itself upright, its head spinning around to focus on Victoria. “Ah.” she smiled, “There we are.” She raised her hand and a blue beam shot from her finger and hit the automaton just slightly below its breastplate. The creature stopped completely, gave a loud whistle of steam and then tipped over backwards.

  Victoria moved closer to it and pushed it with her foot. The automaton’s weight carried it down the slope of the roof where it hit the guttering and disappeared over the edge of the building. Several seconds later there was a loud metallic thump and once again the sound of shattering terracotta.

  She rubbed her hands together and walking to the edge of the roof leapt down the forty feet or so to the lawn below.

  “Well done boss.” Said Romney, “Took your time though.”

  Victoria snorted in the darkness, examining the wreckage of the automaton that lay sprawled across the lawn in front of her.

  “I think we may need to attempt a bit of a tidy up.” She said, “Wouldn’t want Mister Rollins to come across all these bits and pieces when he is mowing the lawn now, would we?” She turned to the other figure sprawled on the grass and adjusting her sight spectrum looked down at the corpse of the small pale man who lay across several smashed flowerpots, a small neat hole in the centre of his forehead, a vaguely shocked or perhaps puzzled expression on his rapidly whitening features.

  Victoria patted him down, looking for any clues or possessions but of course the assassins society were far too clever to leave such clues. The corpse was anonymous; untraceable. Even its clothes were unremarkable, selected for their ability to not stand out or invoke memory in anyone who came across the assassin in the course of his duties.

  “I think I need a word with Mister Smith and the assassins in general.” Smiled Victoria.

  “I told you that fancy zeppelin was a bad idea.” Chided Romney and Victoria muttered under her breath.

  “Bring him back.” She said suddenly, “We cannot allow this situation to continue. I will forever be looking over my shoulder.”

  “Are you sure?” Sighed Romney and Victoria nodded.

  “Very well.” Sighed the demon, pausing for a second. “Your pulse beam scrambled his brains a bit though. I can get him back for about three hours.”

  “That will be long enough.” She said, “Continue.”

  There was a rustling from nearby as leaves blew casually across the lawn in the darkness, and from somewhere nearby rose the loud mewing sound of a cat. The silence fell upon the night and the corpse before them suddenly gasped and its eyes opened.

  Gingerly the man reached up and touched the hole in the centre of his forehead, wincing slightly as he did so.

  “I have got an event to attend tomorrow evening.” He said indignantly, touching the hole one more time and then slowly and carefully sitting up. “This is grossly inconvenient I will have you know.”

  “Well I would hesitate to suggest you find a benefactor for your tickets then.” Smiled Victoria, “But in the meantime I want you to deliver a message for me.”

  ***

  “On my behalf the recent contract on yourself, which for in fear of repeating myself I will state once again that is now cancelled was not personal at all. Purely business. I shall refuse any further negotiations with those who would seek to resume a similar arrangement or commence a new engagement. As you are aware our society controls its business very tightly and I feel that my assurance of no further action is sufficient to cease any or indeed all attempts upon your ongoing wellbeing.

  If I were to give you any advice Victoria, then I would perhaps suggest that you live your life a little less ostentatiously and allow your presence to fade as far into the background as is possible. Out of sight in your case does in fact mean out of mind.”

  Victoria tore the letter into small pieces and threw it into the small bin by the side of the fireplace, smiling as she did so.

  “Looks like we may be left alone.” She said, sitting down before the unlit fire.

  “As long as we don’t kick up too much of a fuss.” Laughed Romney and Victoria chuckled too.

  So the days passed and Victoria was surprised to find one morning as she examined the calendar she had placed on the parlour wall that three months has passed and Autumn was beginning to settle around the village of Little Cookham like a discarded cloak of gold and red and brown, dry crisp yellow leaves blowing along the main thoroughfare of the village, settling amongst the lawns and verges of the houses, a crisp chill in the air of a morning and just before dark also.

  Victoria wandered through to the breakfast room at the rear of the house, the double French style doors leading out into the gardens and the woodlands beyond. A fresh breeze came through the door but it was refreshing rather than chilling and Victoria smiled, breathing the cool air in deeply. Fanelda had already prepared breakfast - Victoria thought she was getting awfully good with moving things around for a ghost, though of course as to be expected there were quite a few incidents of smashed plates which she took in her stride. The poor girl was Welsh, after all.

  She sat down and poured herself some coffee, looking out into the garden. She sat unmoving for a while, planning her day when she became aware of the sound of mewing from the garden that was slowly but cautiously approaching the French windows as if peeking inside. Victoria smiled as the meowing sound grew louder and then crossed the room where she sat. There was a brief sensation of something rubbing around her ankles and then the meowing left the room, heading apparently upstairs.

  “Will that cat ever manage to be visible?” She said.

  “I doubt it.” Said Romney, “Combine Harvester remember? If it was visible it would be like looking at a coarsely chopped fur coated slab of pate’ I imagine.”

  “Romney!” She said, almost spitting out her coffee.

  “Well it’s true.” Said the demon, “Pro
bably a conscious reason not to be visible.”

  “Shame.” She said, “It would nice to be able to see a cat about the place.”

  “Well you could always buy one.”

  “Ah well. I wouldn’t like to put our currently invisible and very dead feline occupant’s whiskers out of joint now, would I?” She smiled. “I think one cat is enough about the place anyway. More than one and I would probably get the urge to make clay pots and take up knitting.”

  “I could always knock up a simulacrum in my workshop if you like?” Said Romney.

  Victoria paused for a while and then looked down to the demon eye necklace hanging around her neck where Romney was blood bound to.

  “You have a workshop in there?” She said tentatively. There was a brief silence.

  “Of course I do.” Said the demon, “It’s not all scatter cushions and joss sticks you know.”

  “Joss sticks.” Said Victoria flatly.

  “Yes.” Romney sniffed almost in irritation. “I will look into the cat thing. Give me a couple of days.”

  Victoria nodded in agreement, falling silent once again.

  “Joss sticks.” She said finally, “How illuminating.” Romney however was not taking the bait and remained silent, and so she decided to have a mental run through her day.

  The visits from the villagers keen to sound her out had faded considerably over the preceding few months but she was still receiving visitors on a more or less daily basis, though rarely more than one a day, but that could hardly be planned for she thought. They could - and would, arrive at almost any time of the day at all.

  After breakfast she would take a walk in the grounds, which although not enormous, were still considerable. She would catch up with the gardener, Mister Rollins and perhaps enquire once again about the possibility of a kitchen herb garden, which, being from the city she had always thought would be a nice idea. The problem was the man was stone deaf and their communications were at best rudimentary. She decided that she would persist however, and placed a pen and notepaper near for when she took her constitutional.