The Queen's Vampire (The Vampire Spy Book 1)

by K. T. Tomb

  Alfred looked back often to check on his charge. He noted that on a few occasions she stirred, but did not seem to be awakening. He arrived in Richmond Upon Thames, pulled up to the front door of his home, scooped Nora from the back seat of the carriage and carried her into the house while Missus Boyles scurried along beside him.

  “Mister Covington,” she admonished. “I knew that you wanted the poor girl to come with you, but don’t you think you went a bit overboard?”

  “Hardly,” he growled. “Now make up a room. We have a new guest.”

  Chapter Nine

  The sound of a pendulum in a parlor clock penetrated through the dark silence.

  There was a fresh, clean scent and it confused her. Surely, the sound of the pendulum belonged with the opium den, but the sweet aroma didn’t; neither did the clean, crisp sheets Nora felt against her face. For several long counts, she tried to sort through the puzzle in her mind. Her head throbbed, but it was different than the way it throbbed when she was coming off of an opium high. She blinked her eyes open and stared blankly at the white ceiling with gold crown moulding. Where am I? She attempted to sit up.

  “Don’t go doin’ that, dearie,” said a soft voice from nearby.

  Nora felt a bolt of white-hot lightning shoot through her body and fell back into the pillow, clenching her teeth in agony. After the pain passed, she turned her head toward the woman sitting in the chair beside her. “Where am I? Who are you?”

  “Where you are, is the home of Mister Alfred Covington, and who I am is Missus Boyles, his housekeeper.”

  “He brought me to his home?” Nora tried to push herself up again, but realized that doing so was far too painful and made her dizzy.

  “Rest easy, love,” Missus Boyles soothed. “There’s no cause for alarm. His intentions are purely noble. You were badly hurt. The local doctor has only just left, in fact.”

  With that bit of information, Nora began recalling her encounter with Edwin Burberry. She remembered her struggle with him. She remembered seeing Alfred’s carriage pass by. She remembered calling for help. He had come. The pipe. The short snippets of what passed after that began to make sense to her. She had felt him lift her up. She had heard the click-clacking of the horses’ hooves on the cobblestone. She’d heard soothing voices. His voice. And Missus Boyles’.

  “How long have I been unconscious?” she asked.

  “Several hours,” the woman replied with a soothing smile on her round face. “You took a pretty nasty blow to your noodle, dear. It required several stitches. You’re expected to make a full recovery. Doctor Twinning wasn’t expecting you to awaken for several hours more, so you’ve already made a jumpstart on mending.”

  “You’re awake then,” Alfred Covington said, startling her as he stepped into the room. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to give you a start.”

  “It’s because of that habit of yours, sir,” Missus Boyles admonished. She turned back toward Nora. “He’s always giving me a jolt as well, Miss Kelly. He walks so softly that I never hear him until he speaks. ‘Tis like he’s hunting a stag in the forest.”

  “There are other reasons for the softness of my step, Missus Boyles,” Alfred chuckled as he came nearer to Nora. He allowed a broad smile to grow on his face for a moment and then quickly dismissed it. “Not for hunting stags in the forest though.”

  There was a long pause as Nora looked into his eyes. There was a devilish dance taking place there. She hadn’t noticed it before. It frightened her, yet soothed her at the same time. How is that possible?

  “You were in quite a bad way when I came upon you, Miss Kelly,” he began. “The gent—apologies, I nearly called your captor a gentleman; force of habit, of course, he was anything but a gentleman. Anyway, he had thrown you down hard enough to render you unconscious, thanks, in part, to an exposed pipe.”

  “Edwin Burberry,” Nora responded. “That’s the man who attacked me. I tried to fight him, but I was too weak from the…” She stopped herself, too embarrassed to admit that she had been weak from the effects of having indulged in opium again.

  Alfred smiled at her. It was a knowing smile, but it was not an accusatory one. “This man, Burberry, was a particularly nasty sort. He tried to attack me as well, but I suppose his luck ran out, and he received a taste of his own medicine. But all of that is behind us.” He looked at the woman sitting next to Nora. “Missus Boyles, we ought to be getting the pots and pans in the kitchen rattling and prepare something for our guest. No doubt, your special recipe will do wonders to set Miss Kelly back on her feet again.”

  “It certainly will, dear,” Missus Boyles announced, eager to ply her wares. “We’ll have ye turnin’ cartwheels soon enough.” The plump, elderly woman waddled from the room and called out to someone to get the stove heated.

  “Thank you for coming to my aid,” Nora said. “But, please, don’t make a fuss over me. I’d just as soon go back to my own home and to my own bed. Kate and Mary will be worried sick about me.”

  “You needn’t be concerned about Kate and Mary,” Alfred replied. “I’ve sent word to them regarding your condition and what is being done for you. What is important is for you to heal from your wounds and get back on your feet again.”

  “I’ve survived a knock to the head before,” she countered. Her stubbornness was rising up inside of her.

  “That’s not the wound of which I speak,” Alfred replied.

  Nora could feel his eyes burning through her and she was keenly aware of what he was getting at. “The opium,” she sighed, turning her eyes away.

  “No,” he replied. “The wound that drove you to it.”

  “‘Tis not an easy wound to heal,” she whispered.

  “None are,” he countered.

  “So, I’ll be put in an asylum?” she asked.

  “Hardly,” he laughed. “If I were Satan himself, I wouldn’t put you into one of those hellish pits. Those who go in come out far worse; that is, if they come out at all.”

  “Then what?” she asked.

  “We’ll take care of you here. Bring you back to yourself again and then, well, I’ll repeat my offer.”

  “Service to Her Majesty?”

  He nodded. “I want you to have a clear head, though. I want you to have a proper look and feel for what can be yours if you choose to rise up out of the mire that keeps you in Limehouse. I want you to know precisely what will be expected of you and make an informed decision about your future. You can’t do that until your wound is healed.”

  “What will be expected of me?”

  “That is a conversation for another time,” he grinned, turning away from her and leaving her alone with her thoughts.

  Chapter Ten

  Three days had passed and Nora was growing restless. True, she was feeling stronger, but she was also feeling an even stronger need for the opium. Correction, an overwhelming need for the opium.

  On her fourth night, when she was feeling strong and eager to move on, Nora confronted her host after what was surely one of the most delicious pheasants she had ever eaten. “What is it you want from me, Alfred?”

  “I am not at liberty to say... yet,” said Alfred. He had just lit his evening pipe, and turned to look at her through the haze of smoke. They were together in his large study, from which hung massive tapestries and a large painting of hunting dogs. “Tell me, Miss Kelly, what caused you to leave Ireland?”

  “You’re dodging my question.”

  “Actually, I’m laying the groundwork to have it answered,” he countered. “I’d like to know a little bit more about you, your motivations and the objectives for your life.”

  “You first,” she responded. “I’d like to know who the hell is keeping me captive.”

  “You are free to go whenever you’d like, Miss Kelly.”

  He had said that before, but she suspected otherwise. She suspected the moment she made to leave, he might grow exceedingly less friendly. At least, that is how it played out in her imagination,
true or not.

  “What would you like to know?” he asked, puffing on his pipe.

  “Who are you? What is your job? Where did you come from?”

  “Fair enough,” he said between puffs. “We’ll make an agreement. I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours, agreed?”

  Nora hesitated a moment. She wasn’t sure if she could tell her story. It was a painful one, and one she didn’t often summon into her memory. Finally, she nodded. Hell, if it finally gave her the answers she needed from Alfred Covington, she’d dredge up the worst of it. “Agreed.”

  “Very well. I am from Cambridgeshire, though my ancestry is Scottish,” Alfred began. “When the Duke of Cambridge gained his title by marrying Mary Adelaide of Cambridge, a cousin of Her Majesty, he called upon me. I, and my family, have been closely tied to the Adelaide family for a very long time now. The Duke was given a special mission by Her Majesty, and thus I was recruited. In fact, The Duke was charged with creating a new agency that is to keep track of the many enemies of the Realm. It is for this reason that I have had to keep you in the dark. I really can tell you no more than that at this point. Should you wish to join this agency in service of your Queen, you will, of course, learn more.”

  “A secret agency? Why would anyone want me for a secret agency? What possible talent can I lend?” Nora asked.

  “Those are questions that you ought to ask the Duke,” Alfred replied.

  “The Duke?”

  “The Duke of Cambridge,” he replied. “Also known as Count von Hohenstein and the Duke of Teck.”

  “I am to meet with him and ask him my questions?” It was a great deal more than Nora was prepared to hear. “I’m really not one who ought to be meeting with royalty and asking questions of them. I think you’ve mistaken me for much more than I am.”

  “Well, then,” Alfred returned with a smile. “Perhaps you ought to tell me who you are then.”

  The turn had been a smooth one, but Nora wasn’t quite ready to tell her story. “You haven’t told me your whole story yet.”

  He stared at her for several long beats. She watched his face, mostly his eyes, transform as he sorted through his irritation and then relented. “What else is it that you wish to know?”

  “Who are you?”

  “That’s a difficult question to answer. Does anyone really know who they are?”

  “Surely there must be some way that you can identify yourself beyond your name, your family and your position.” She paused, knowing that she had him. “What are the objectives for your life? What is your life’s passion?”

  “I don’t know that I can answer those questions.” He wrinkled his brow.

  “And yet, you’re going to expect me to answer those questions as well. It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

  She could tell that he was struggling with something... perhaps a deep secret; a confession of his soul, perhaps? For a moment, she was certain that he would dismiss her. If he did, then she would be justified in not answering his questions, and to test the limits of his good nature and leave the home promptly. Finally, he sighed and nodded once, as if coming to some sort of decision.

  “I, like my ancestors before me, am a vampire hunter,” he said.

  Nora didn’t know how to respond. Yes, she had heard of vampires. She had seen their stories in the penny dreadfuls sold along the streets and shops. Fiends with a taste for blood. Nasty business, but most assuredly fiction. Certainly, there weren’t real vampires. Not in the world she lived in. Sure, she had serviced men who would as surely cut her throat and watch her bleed than pay her, but these were human monsters. Not immortal ones.

  She didn’t know how to respond, not yet. That Alfred Covington was mad, she had no doubt. Just how mad, she would have to gauge... and then get the hell out of here and as far away from him as possible.

  He continued, “That is my identity. That is why I was selected by The Duke for this job. And that is why I know so much about your condition.”

  She nearly choked. She thought immediately about her opium addiction. “You know about my condition, do you? You know about addiction?”

  “That is not the condition of which I speak, Miss Kelly.”

  “Then you do have me confused with someone else. Perhaps someone as mad as you?”

  He smiled simply and folded his hands in his lap, while his pipe trailed smoke out of the corner of his mouth. “I think it is your turn to tell your story.”

  “But I want to know more,” she responded condescendingly. “I want to know of these vampires—”

  “You’ll know more after meeting the Duke,” he answered curtly.

  Nora wasn’t sure which was more frightening to her. She was terrified of having to relive her story and tell it to Alfred, but the prospect of having an audience with the Duke of Cambridge wasn’t appealing to her in any way either. She had the perfect excuse.

  “I don’t have the proper clothing to wear for such a meeting and a lady, especially one from my station, ought not to appear before the Duke of Cambridge if not properly dressed.”

  “We have thought ahead,” he responded.

  “Pardon?”

  “In anticipation of your meeting the Duke, Missus Boyles and I selected the proper clothing for you to wear more than two weeks ago.”

  “More than two weeks ago?” Nora frowned. “That would be before you brought me here.”

  “I was confident you would come on your own,” he responded.

  “But instead, you brought me here when I was in no state to protest.”

  “I brought you here because you were gravely wounded and needed proper attention,” he snapped.

  “What exactly was your plan, good sir?” she asked, some bite in her voice. Her ire was up, though she wasn’t sure why. She had started on the rant in order to avoid having to tell her own story, but, once started, she was unable to check her temper.

  “My plan was to help you realize your full potential. My plan was to get you to see that you needn’t throw yourself away. My plan was to restore hope.” He rose from the chair abruptly and strode purposely toward the door. He turned before passing through it and added in a lower tone, “Perhaps I was wrong.”

  After the door closed behind him, Nora was attacked by a powerful sense of regret. He believed in me before he even knew me and I do this? In that moment, she decided that she would meet the Duke, if for no other reason than to get some answers.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Bring this lovely young lady in here where I can have a better look at her,” the Duke of Cambridge bellowed when he had his first look at Nora. “The cream has worked wonders on you, as I knew it would. I’ve used it myself. You see, Nora, we have that little problem with the sun in common. In fact, a wide-brimmed hat and a thick layer of the cream is the only way that I can go out at all. Fortunately, Her Majesty doesn’t require my presence in the light of day very often.”

  Nora wasn’t sure how to respond to what amounted to a raving outburst from the Duke upon seeing her. He wasn’t anything like she was expecting. She had expected a stuffy, snobbish, and condescending aristocrat. She was completely disarmed by him. Not to mention, she liked him immediately. “Thank you, truly. The cream has certainly been a relief.”

  “You see there, Alfred?” Cambridge called out as he greeted Alfred with a firm handshake. “I told you it was the ticket to your success, especially with the fairer sex. Perhaps you can find yourself a wife from the use of it.”

  Alfred shrunk from the suggestion of a wife. “I was only following your advice, sir.”

  The Duke turned to Nora. “He needs a wife to straighten him out a little. Although, that Missus Boyles does keep him in line, wouldn’t you agree, Miss Nora?”

  “I do,” she responded.

  “It’s good to finally meet you,” he beamed as he guided her toward the divan. He and Alfred sat in adjacent chairs, which were upholstered in the most immaculate brocade.

  Nora was almost afraid to sit o
n the divan because of just that. “Alfred has had high hopes for you from the moment he first spoke of you. Those expectations have only grown since you were brought to his home. I’ve been haranguing him on a daily basis to convince him to bring you for a visit.”

  Nora glanced at Alfred, who avoided her gaze and then turned her attention back to their host. She was a great deal more at ease than she had expected to be. “He has spared nothing when it comes to my care,” she said. “I haven’t eaten so well or slept so peacefully since… well, maybe never.”

  “Glad to hear it. I hope he hasn’t been pressing you too much to be involved in our little agency. His subtlety leaves a great deal to be desired at times.”

  Nora found that particular comment hilarious and accurate, but she chose not to embarrass Alfred and gave the Duke only a polite smile. “Mister Covington has been a gentleman in every respect. I owe him a great deal of gratitude.”

  “As do I,” the Duke agreed. His broad smile suddenly shifted to a deep wrinkled frown; a transformation of alarming speed. “What we have to discuss tonight is of a very serious nature. Before I can speak further, I must have assurances from you that not a single word of what is discussed tonight is ever repeated outside of this room. Do you understand my request?”

  Nora, taken aback by his sudden shift in demeanor, felt her eyes widen. “I... I understand,” she answered, just above a whisper. What could this be? she wondered.

  “Our realm has seen several setbacks in recent years on foreign soil,” the Duke began. “Though on some occasions we’ve had some good fortune and come out victorious, it has become more and more evident that we are lacking where it comes to military intelligence concerning both our allies and our enemies. In both cases, we have had to rely on intelligence provided to us either by our allies or what we have been able to obtain from captured soldiers. At times, we have even purchased intelligence from dubious third parties. To the say the least, the quality of said information has been severely lacking. It has cost Her Majesty soldiers and silver on numerous occasions. In some cases, better intelligence might have prevented any conflict at all or brought what conflict did arise to a hasty conclusion. Are you following me, so far?”