Ministry Protocol: Thrilling Tales of the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences
Page 74
*****
Flames danced merrily in the hearth. Pint glasses of stout, ale, and bitter mimicked the overflowing conversation, a delightful mingling of mirth and laughter. From the kitchen came sweet, succulent smells of dishes far heartier than anything found in her royal kitchens. Victoria thought absently that perhaps, on nights when she craved something simpler, she should request from her cook a Shepard’s Pie. Any chef worth their salt would have a good recipe for Shepard’s Pie.
The diminutive glass of sherry was placed ever so gently before her. Two fingers then slid it closer to her hand. She picked it up, and that was when she noticed the tremble. She was no longer cold, but still shaking.
Victoria downed the sherry in one gulp, and groaned as the liquid burned its way down her throat. She much preferred her sherry sweet. She kept staring into the fire. She would not cry. She would not scream. She was Queen of the Empire, and would not falter.
The second sherry was placed next to her empty glass. “Do have a care, Victoria, and make this one last. I would loathe to have someone of your station in a state when I escort you home.”
“You are far too familiar, Professor,” Victoria seethed.
“Due to the rather crowded nature of the pub, I’m afraid necessity will out.” The professor settled back into the high back chair in front of her, interlacing his pudgy fingers across his rotund belly. His once hard, cold eyes now seemed to glow with warmth. “So, your questions?”
“Who were those—” She meant to say “people” but that was not quite right, was it? They were completely and utterly horrific. “—things?”
“Hellhounds,” he said quite factually. “Or I should say, a small coven of necromancers that, through some dark sorcery, possessed the ability to change themselves into hellhounds. I have been tracking them since stumbling on one of their ceremonies in West Yorkshire where I was on the trail of a cursed talisman, completely unrelated to them, I should add.”
“West Yorkshire? A far cry from Avebury Circle,” she chortled.
“I am tenacious in some things,” Source quipped. “Matters such as this, I hold as high priorities.”
“Matters?” Victoria asked. “You mean, there are more of those abominations out there?”
The professor smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as the firelight softened his plump features. “Have another sip of sherry.” She did so, but her eyes never left him as he spoke. “This coven was, perhaps, one of a more darker nature. Wiccans prefer a more peaceful life, as would a Christian, a Hindu, or any other follower of a faith.” Source gave a slight sigh as he glanced out of the window, as if he were returning to the circle of stones just outside. “As it is in any faith, there are some that are forward thinking in their manifestos. They wish to enact peace by their religion through violence. A Holy War, as contradictory as the term Civil War.” He produced the quartz that had come to their aid, and placed it before her. “Another coven offered me this as a weapon against Matthew’s black magic. They call this Luna’s Prism. They entrusted me with it much in the same way you will, following this evening, entrust me with the means and resources to preserve the empire.”
Victoria knotted her brow at that bold conclusion. His smile never faltered.
“The coven who held on to Luna’s Prism, were in need of a special branch of Her Majesty’s Empire. They trusted me as I assured them such matters would no longer be dismissed by either Palace or Parliament after tonight.”
“And how were you so sure?”
Professor Source took a sip of his own sherry before motioning to the barkeep. The man gave a nod and produced from around his neck, a key. He disappeared for a moment in what could have been a corridor to the kitchens, or perhaps storage, Victoria could not be certain; but she concluded it was a private room of some sort when the publican emerged from the back of the pub again, the key was no longer in sight and the small case that the professor had upon his person at their palace appointment was now in the publican’s hands. Placing it at Source’s feet, he gave them both a tip of the hat and then returned to the bar.
There was still a good amount of conversation and din around them, but she started at the sound of the clasps flipping open. The professor slid the box closer to her and motioned to it. “If you would indulge me, Alexandrina.”
Feeling that it would be needed, Victoria took a long sip of her sherry, savouring it before she bent down and opened the box in front of her. Her eyes went wide for a moment, and then jumped back to the mysterious man opposite her. “Is this—?”
“If you have to ask me, then you already know the answer, don’t you?”
She shook her head, but it was no illusion. No mirage. It was real, and her fingertips resting gently on it, only confirmed as much. “How is this possible?”
“There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophies,” he quoted. “When these things call for the attention of the Crown or threaten the preservation of the Empire, this is where and when your new ministry will step in and intervene.” From his coat’s inside pocket, he produced what appeared to be a modest proposal, perhaps five pages or so, folded neatly and held together by a deep blue ribbon. “A clandestine organisation specialising in that which defies explanation. We will employ the brightest and most resourceful men and women representing every corner of the realm, dedicated to the preservation of the Queen, Her country, and the Empire.”
The queen looked up from the bound decree, whatever shock, fear, or confusion she felt festering within her now gone. “Just like that?”
Source cast his eyes to the open case, then back to the queen. “Do you need more proof?”
She hooked her foot under one of the case’s open lids and flipped it up. Both lids closed like a small creature clamping its leather-encased mouth around a snack. She gave the case a slight push and slid the box back over to Source.
“Yes, I could have simply presented this evidence to you in court, but I needed to know if you were the monarch that would undertake such a venture; and you did.” His eyes narrowed as he continued, “There are dark forces at play, and I will not rest until I return these villains to the shadows from where they were spawned.”
Victoria looked down to the proposal still unopened in her hand, then back to the professor. “I barely know you, sir, but I believe you will.” She raised her sherry glass. “As decreed by Her Majesty, Queen Victoria of England and the British Empire, I raise a glass to your new charge…”
And then she paused. Her silence became a small chuckle of delight, and she raised her glass a fraction higher.
“A toast, to the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences.”
On their glasses touching, just over the chatter and jocularity of their pub, a lone dog cried out in the night.