The Copper Spyglass Nursery

by Michele Ryan

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Epilogue

  Author Bios

  Copyright

  © 2018 TL Reeve and Michele Ryan

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

  Dedication

  To you, dear reader, thank you!

  Chapter One

  London, Summer 1888…

  The humid night air had given way to a light rain, doing little to cool Ezra Blakely’s flesh. For the last hour, he, along with the Dreadfuls, had been on the trail of an old foe. Frazer. Bennett Frazer, to be exact. The man who sired Jonah over three hundred years ago. A man Jonah thought had been long gone. It would appear, at least for the Dreadfuls, nothing truly stayed gone or dead.

  Last month, Hoyt Sharpter, inspector for Scotland Yard’s Paranormal Division and new friend/partner for the cause, had returned to the mansion with yet another case. Four bodies had turned up. Two in Whitechapel, one in Chelsea, and one in Mayfair. Each of them had puncture wounds in some part of their body and each one had been exsanguinated. Scotland Yard was having a hell of a time keeping it out of the papers since the new reporter—a dandy of a man, Percival Van Kleve—had arrived and begun digging up stories for the London Times.

  Ezra had spotted him a few times while tracking the wanted vampire. He had an uncanny knack of showing up at the most inopportune times. He also had a keen sense about him. He liked the night. Liked the Dreadfuls and Annabelle’s Misfits more. He wasn’t remarkable in any way. Tall, at least six-foot. Lanky. His suits were always fresh, pressed to perfection. He used pomade in his hair and wax for his mustache. He had carefree blue-grey eyes, and a light laugh.

  “He’s here again, isn’t he?” Andres followed behind Ezra. They inched their way through the darkened alley, tracking the Frazer bastard.

  “Yes. Across the street by the lamp,” he answered, crouching down to the examine the speck of blood on the cobblestone lane.

  “He is handsome.” Andres knelt beside him. “But not my type.”

  No, over the last few months, an interesting situation had developed. Mr. Emmitt Enright and Mr. Andres Dunn had been spending time together. Though an unlikely duo, Andres brought Emmitt out of his shell a bit. He was also able to calm the man when the women took over his library. “I’m sure you’re quite bereft about that.”

  Andres chuckled softly. “Not in the least, wolf.”

  Ezra rose from where he’d crouched. “It’s not vampire blood.”

  The Fiend shook his head. “Human.”

  “Excuse me, gentlemen, but may I have a moment of your time?”

  Ezra closed his eyes. He didn’t have to turn from where he stood to know Mr. van Kleve stood nearby. Hell, the man even smelled like night jasmine and spice.

  “As you can see, we don’t have time,” Ezra replied. “It would be best to direct all your questions to Inspector Hoyt Sharpter.”

  “American, how...quaint.” The man pushed forward. “There have been several murders over the last couple of weeks—what is the cause?”

  Interesting choice of words. “Not a question for us, sir.” Andres put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Like Mr. Blakely said, Inspector Sharpter is the man to speak with.”

  “As he said. However, you’ve gained a reputation...”

  “Good evening, Mr. van Kleve. Be careful going home.” Ezra kept a sedate pace as he followed the small trail of blood dotting the ground.

  “He’s not going to stop digging,” Andres muttered, catching up to him.

  “No. He isn’t. Perhaps we should talk to Hoyt.” He inched around the corner towards a small market space.

  “I believe you’re right.” Andres pointed to pile of garbage, or what appeared to be such. “There.”

  They came upon the heap where a female body lay covered in newspapers, fish bones and a sundry of other things. Her pale flesh coupled with the trail of blood had Ezra cursing up a storm. Blood had pooled between her thighs as well, causing a small puddle to form beneath her.

  “We were meant to find this one,” Andres muttered.

  “A distraction?” Ezra crouched down to study the girl. Streetwalker or, as the British called them, ‘three-penny uprights.’ She was well taken care of though. Manicured fingernails. Clean hair and body. Her dress was expensive too.

  Ezra lifted the lady’s skirt and spotted the silver knife along with a puncture wound to her thigh. The one instrument that could cause disfigurement, and torturous pain, so much so the vampire would walk gratefully into the oncoming sunrise. He sighed. If he had to guess how it had happened, Frazer had drunk from her throat, spotted the silver blade, perhaps thought she was one of the Dreadfuls or Misfits, and decided to kill her. This had been done out of panic, not out of play.

  “Jonah will not be pleased.” No, he wouldn’t be. If anything, the vampire would place this upon his shoulders as if he’d taken the woman’s life, since he blamed himself, for his sire’s reign of terror.

  “No,” Ezra agreed.

  “She’s dead,” Mr. van Kleve stated. “And bloody.”

  “Bloody hell,” Andres whispered. “I told you to get out of here, dandy.”

  The man gave a nonchalant lift of his shoulder as a shrewd grin pulled at his mouth. “Inquisitive mind.”

  Ezra placed his hands on his hips after standing. “What do you want, Mr. van Kleve?”

  “Interview with you lot.”

  Not happening. “Out of the question. There are forces at work you won’t be able to comprehend.”

  Mr. van Kleve gave an indignant snort. “Let’s not pretend she hasn’t been bitten about the neck and thigh. Or the fact you’ve been tracking a certain man for months now.”

  Andres hissed. “Who are you?”

  The dandy opened the plain leather journal in his hands, before pulling a pencil from his pocket. “An interested party. Now, should we talk?”

  They returned to the manor minutes before sunrise. Jonah had tracked Frazer farther than Andres and Ezra did due to one intrepid reporter. Unfortunately, Jonah lost the mad vampire somewhere near the edge of the river. Distinguishing his smell from the rot, and decay of sewage had overwhelmed Jonah’s delicate senses.

  Ezra stepped through the door and was greeted with the soft sound of laughter from the kitchen. Jonah bid him a good morning then raced to his room. Andres parted from him and headed to the library where Emmitt most likely would be at this hour. As he entered the kitchen, Miss Jemmy and Mr. Lawson Nealy, another member of the Dreadfuls were sharing a moment, while his mate sat in the rocking chair near the stove rocking their son, Seh, as he nursed. His curly hair, just like his mother’s, peeked out from under his bonnet. His chubby little fist was curled around her finger.

  The sight tugged at him. All of this was new. He’d been so hell-bent, after finding out Marbella carried Grant, to stay away and carry on his life as a Dreadful, he’d missed this part. Sure, he loved Grant, but this was different. There were no feelings of resentment towards the mother of his son. There were no forced copulations or entanglements Ezra didn’t w
ant. A part of him regretted every aspect of the past fifteen years of his life.

  He also hated himself for not being the father he should have been to Grant. Had he been, his son would have never been forced to service the other females in the pack. The sickly sense of dread slid down his spine. Ezra had to remind himself every day that the wolves who’d betrayed his trust and loyalty were dead. Killed when they decided to kidnap Clara and bring her to the Baron. He also had to remind himself that Grant’s birthday was upon them, and, as a thirteen-year-old lad, he deserved a little happiness too. Perhaps later, after they’d slept, and spoken with Mr. Omer Cause, he and Clara could plan something for their son’s momentous occasion.

  “Good morning, Mr. Blakely,” Clara murmured, glancing up at him.

  “Good morning, mate,” he answered, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “How did our sons fare last night?”

  Seh opened his dark-brown eyes and peered up at Ezra. After sixteen grueling hours of labor, he’d come screaming into the world. Clara worried incessantly about her deformity transferring over to their son. Ezra didn’t. If the boy did have a withered appendage, they would simply do as Clara had, and Charlie would have created a custom arm or leg for the boy. He would be treated no differently from anyone else. However, Seh had been perfect. Two working arms, and ten fingers and two working legs with ten toes.

  “They were perfect. Grant helped me.” She smiled. “The boy is a natural caretaker. He loves his brother.”

  Pride welled in Ezra’s chest. “Of course he does. He’s a Blakely.”

  She laughed. “Did you find...”

  He shook his head. “We got harangued by a damned reporter. Left Jonah and Mr. Donovan on their own to chase a ghost we can’t seem to catch.”

  Clara pursed her lips. “Dr. Cantrel and Norah have been searching through the boat manifests, trying to find out, if by chance, he arrived by ship. I can’t begin to believe he’s been here the whole time.”

  Neither could Ezra. As far as he understood, Jonah had been one of the only vampires in London for quite some time. Annabelle had been the first changed human in almost twenty years. Add to the fact that if any of the Dreadfuls or Annabelle’s Misfits came across one, they were dispatched accordingly. No, Frazer couldn’t have been in London. They would have known.

  As if hearing their conversation, Omer appeared in the kitchen, while Miss Dell ambled through the door. They too were quite an unwitting pair. Omer appeared smitten with the elder wolf and she too rather taken with the ancient being. His form solidified as he took a seat at the table. Dell occupied the chair beside him. Ezra helped Clara from the rocker after she righted her dress and cuddled a now full-bellied, sleeping little boy.

  “I don’t want to keep any of you longer than necessary,” Omer stated. “The night was long, and the days are even longer now. You’re all tired.”

  Norah and Dr. Cantrel entered the kitchen and took their places at the table. Dr. Cantrel pulled a shipping manifest out of his jacket and placed it before Omer. “Sorry we’re later, but it would seem, we found him.”

  “We think,” Norah stated, glancing at the doctor.

  “It bloody has to be him, Norah.” Victor sighed. “Four boxes of consecrated soil were shipped from Scotland to London, England six weeks ago. It coincides with the first of the bodies being found in Whitechapel.”

  Four boxes didn’t mean they’d contained Frazer, or anyone traveling with him. According to Jonah, the only way for vampires to travel without harm was in dark spaces. They used the consecrated dirt to aid in their sleep and preservation should anything foul happen to the ship they were stowed on. Nonetheless, Ezra couldn’t put aside the coincidence in the timeframe.

  “Did you find anything else?”

  Victor shook his head. “No. Only this ship, with this manifest.”

  Ezra tapped the table as Omer examined the document. “Later, Mr. Blakely, you and Mr. Dunn will report back to the ship and speak with the dockworkers. Find out if the four boxes of consecrated earth have been picked up and if so, where were they delivered.”

  He nodded.

  “Anything else?” The ancient man quirked a brow.

  “Yes.” Andres entered the room with Mr. Enright. “We found another body and a nosy newspaper reporter, a Mr. van Kleve.” The fiend curled his lip in disgust. “The man is impetuous.”

  “You mean pompous and irritating and suspicious and watches us like hawks,” Ezra corrected his friend.

  “Yes, quite.” Andres sat at the table with Emmitt taking a seat beside him. “He even followed us to the girl we found.”

  Omer turned his gaze on Ezra. “He did?”

  Ezra sighed. “Yes. While Andres and I were checking the body, I noticed a few suspicious things. All the women up to now have been prostitutes. This lady, and I say this because she wasn’t a streetwalker, had money. Her nails were done. Her skin and hair were clean. The dress she wore was brand-new and she had a secret.”

  “She had a silver knife nestled against her thigh,” Andres muttered. “She knew the dangers of being out late and had protection.”

  “I think she surprised Frazer,” Ezra said.

  “And what? He killed her,” Clara stated.

  “Yes. She had puncture wounds to her neck and inner thigh,” Ezra added.

  Omer steepled his fingers against his bottom lip and closed his eyes. “If we assume Frazer was in one of those four boxes on the boat, then we can assume three others traveled with him. Could it be two vampires took their pleasure with the young miss, and, upon discovery of the knife, allowed her to die?”

  Possibly. To Ezra it made sense. “They didn’t drain her. Her exsanguination happened naturally.”

  “She was still bleeding when we found her,” Andres answered. “The twit, dandy, wouldn’t leave us in peace.”

  Omer looked to Norah and Dr. Cantrel. “Why don’t you pay a visit to the newspaper and see what you can find out about this Mr. van Kleve?”

  “Sure,” Miss Burke stated.

  Omer glanced at Ezra. “Anything else?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “Then we will convene tonight and begin the search again, only from a different angle.” Omer stood and held his hand out to Miss Dell. She took it readily and followed him out of the kitchen.

  Clara yawned, causing him to do the same. “Let’s nap, my Creole Queen.”

  Miss Jemmy took Seh from her. “Don’t worry, Miss Clara. If he goes to fussin’, I’ll wake you. Grant has his studies today as well. Mr. Nealy and I have all this under control.”

  “Thank you,” Clara said. “I didn’t realize I’d allowed myself to get this sleepy.”

  Ezra guided her out of the kitchen and up to their room. Just the press of her body to his had desire coursing through him. They’d barely touched each other since the birth of Seh—not because they didn’t want to, but because both of them were so confound tired neither had the energy to spare. Perhaps I should change that.

  As soon as they stepped into the room, he closed the door behind them, then swept Clara into his arms. Her yelp of excitement had him growing harder by the second. “It’s been too long, mate.” He kissed her, and the sensual glide of her tongue over his had him yearning for more of her. He moaned against her lips as he laid her on the bed. Ezra broke the kiss after a moment more, and began removing his clothes.

  Clara gave him a sleepy smile as she removed her robe then untied her shift. She pushed the material from her shoulders, exposing her dark-brown skin for his perusal. He licked his lips as he climbed into bed. She didn’t have to take it all off, just as long as he got to nip and suck on the supple flesh of her breasts. He pushed the flimsy material up her thighs, exposing her lush, glistening sex.

  There. He wanted to be there. He wanted to swallow her cries while she climaxed around him. He wanted to feel the first ripples as he pressed his cock deep within her. Fuck, he needed to slow down before he unmanned himself before touching he
r. Ezra looked up at her, ready to fill her. He wanted to stare into the depths of her eyes as they lost themselves in each other. Sadly, a soft snore escaped his mate. Her eyes were shut, and her breathing came a slow, regular pace.

  Well, shit. Ezra straightened her nightshirt and placed a blanket over her, then situated himself in bed as well. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him as he closed his eyes. Maybe later, he’d try again.

  Chapter Two

  Clara woke with a start and glanced to the three covered windows in their bedroom. No. Bright sun shone through the crack in the long drapes directly into her eyes. No. No. No. She’d fallen asleep. How could she have fallen asleep on Ezra? She glanced over at Ezra’s side of the bed and found it empty. No.

  She rolled over on to her side, embarrassed at her actions. She groaned as the movement caused her full breast to ache. “Seh!” She pushed her hair out of her face. At three months old, he’d yet to sleep through the night. He was a demanding boy, nursing every three hours, around the clock. If he had, it was a first.

  As if on cue, a soft knock sounded on the bedroom door before it slowly creaked open. Miss Jemmy poked her head in. “Good morning, Mrs. Blakey. I’ve brought Master Seh for his breakfast.”

  “It’s Clara, Jemmy.” Clara offered the gentle reminder. “And yes. I’m quite ready to feed him.”

  Clara held out her arms, then tucked him close with one hand while using the other to untie and pull down her shift. “Did he sleep through the night?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I mean Clara. Harriet said not to get used to it though. Called it a fluke.” Jemmy shrugged. “We’ll find out tomorrow. Call me when you’re done, and I’ll come back for the young master.”

  Clara focused solely on the little miracle in her arms as Miss Jemmy exited the room almost as quietly as she’d arrived.

  “You are such a good little boy, aren’t you?” Clara said, running her fingertip down his soft caramel-colored skin.