Grayling seemed to recover himself, for he released me and stepped back a bit, looking at me warily.
The mustache dangled from his upper lip, and without thinking, I reached for it, yanking it free. This seemed to be some sort of catalyst, for the next thing I knew, I was back in his arms and he was kissing me.
I forgot all about the Ankh and where we were, and the fact that I was a Holmes. I wasn’t even certain I knew what my name was at the moment. Or for several moments afterward.
At last, when I realized I had forgotten how to breathe—and that I hadn’t seemed to be required to—we pulled apart. I stared up at him and he looked down at me.
“Well, then,” I managed to say, running a shaky hand over my blond wig—which had come loose from its moorings during the recent interlude. “I—”
“Miss Holmes,” he said with great formality. He seemed a trifle out of breath as well. “I—er—I hope I didn’t overstep my—”
“Perhaps if you removed that wig,” I said, “it wouldn’t be quite so odd.”
“Right.” He yanked it off as I did the same. A smile twitched his lips, which were more full than usual. “Is that better?”
“Yes, indeed. Now, where were— Oh, blast!” I suddenly remembered myself. “She went that way. Come on!”
He followed me without question. To my mild surprise, the door through which Lady Isabella had disappeared had a flimsy latch. Grayling made short work of it with a small device he withdrew from the depths of his pockets; we didn’t have time for me to examine it closely, but it appeared to be a small metal claw that fit inside any keyhole and acted as a master.
As we burst through the door, I heard the sounds of altercation. It wasn’t necessary for me to mention it to Grayling, for he’d already snatched up my hand and was towing me after him. Though his legs were longer, I was able to keep up fairly well, and his steadying hand helped keep me from the inevitability of me tripping over my own two feet.
We followed the sounds down a deserted hall to a massive, vaultlike door, which was slightly ajar. Instead of barging in as my counterpart Evaline would have done, I peered around the edge (along with Grayling, of course).
But once we saw the nature of the altercation in the chamber, there was no need to pause.
There were at least a dozen UnDead in the chamber, and Evaline was doing her best to battle them back on her own. I noticed a man in one of the chairs in the chamber—Pix?—and that there were two women on the other side of the fray, watching.
One of them was the Ankh—her features obscured by that dratted veil—and the other was Lurelia of Betrovia.
But that was all the time in which I was able to spare, for Evaline was clearly overmatched and Pix was no help. Grayling hadn’t paused even as long as I had, jumping into the melee with his silver cross swinging and a stake in one hand.
Of course I’d come prepared, but it took me a moment to scrabble beneath my skirts and dig the stake out of my boot. By the time I did that, I was barely able to lunge upright in time to see a vampire coming toward me.
I stifled a shriek of surprise and somehow fumbled the stake into position. To my shock, it found its mark and the UnDead exploded into dust. Before I launched into the fray, I dug the silver cross from beneath my bodice and retrieved two vials of salted holy water from their moorings at my corset.
Flipping the top of one bottle open with my thumb, I charged toward a vampire who was about to attack Evaline from behind. I poked him with my stake, missing the heart, but getting his attention nevertheless.
He turned, and I shot the contents of the vial at him. He screamed, his hands going up to his face, and I pounced. The stake drilled into his chest and then he was gone.
I staggered back, shocked that I’d managed to destroy two vampires in rapid order, and was grabbed from behind. The next thing I knew, my attacker spun me around and yanked me by the hair, baring my neck.
I kicked at him, missed, and felt the sharp, hot pain as fangs plunged into my neck. I probably screamed; I don’t remember, but I did manage, somehow, to maintain the wherewithal to open the second vial of holy water. When I spilled it onto my attacker, he screamed and released me. I staggered a bit, but before I was able to recover and go after him myself, he disappeared in a great, dusty cloud.
I looked over to see Grayling, who didn’t even pause before pivoting in a swirl of his long coat to meet a new threat.
Weak, out of breath, and still spilling blood, I decided I’d see if I could release Pix so he could join the battle. But by the time I stumbled over to him, he was just pulling loose of his final restraint.
It was a good thing, for he grabbed the stake from my hand and used it to stop an attacker right behind me.
I’d hardly had the chance to recover when Pix shoved the stake back at me, ducked, and pulled another from his boot, all in one smooth movement as he vaulted toward a vampire who had pinned Evaline against the wall by the throat.
As I turned to catch my breath, I saw that the Ankh and Lurelia were no longer standing at the far end of the room.
“They’re getting away!” I shouted, though I doubted anyone heard me. I tore across the chamber to where I’d last seen them, but there didn’t seem to be an exit there.
Just as I whirled in the other direction, I saw the vaultlike door behind me begin to swing closed.
I charged toward it, pulling out my Steam-Stream gun as I did so. The door was nearly closed as I tripped. I fell, flying across the floor, tumbling and sliding painfully toward the door with my stake and the gun’s barrel aimed toward the slowly narrowing opening.
I slammed into the wall, but my gun barrel made it into the opening just in time to keep it from closing all the way.
Head spinning, and aching and throbbing everywhere else, I wedged my stake into the space between the bottom of the door and the floor, just to make sure.
And then I realized everything was quiet.
I turned my head, and through a cloud of UnDead ash, I saw Evaline, Grayling, and Pix standing around, breaths heaving, blood dripping, clothes torn, disguises askew or simply gone, and the chamber in shambles. In the midst of the mess was a pile of the battery devices that appeared to have been knocked to the floor during the fight.
“She’s getting…away,” I managed, pulling myself to my feet. Grayling moved toward me as if preparing to assist, but I managed it on my own.
Pix was gathering up the devices. “We have to…take these,” he said, still breathing heavily. “If she doesn’t have them, she can’t…do…it.”
Evaline and Grayling helped him put them into a box one of them retrieved as I pushed the door open. I wasn’t going to wait for them. The Ankh was getting away, and I needed Grayling to see her.
“I’m going…after her,” I called.
I suspected that was why she’d left. The Ankh had seen that we were winning the battle with the UnDead, and surely she’d recognized Grayling during the altercation. Lady Isabella would not want him to see and identify her, and so she’d fled before she lost the chance—or her veil.
But she wasn’t going to get away this time. I was aching and sore, but I forced myself to run. I didn’t know where the villainess had gone, but I couldn’t just let her escape.
There was no sign of her anywhere, and by the time I reached the club room—where the musicians were still going about their entertainment as if nothing had happened, and the smell of blood had eased—I could hear my companions coming along in my wake.
I didn’t wait, however. I hurried into the club room, bursting onto the scene where couples still sat at their tables.
Grayling was on my heels, and as he came into the room, he said, “Scotland Yard! No one move!”
There was another type of melee at that, but it took only a moment for us to ascertain that none of the people in the room were the fugitives, and whatever UnDead might have been there providing “entertainment” had gone. Perhaps they’d smelled the ash from their executed
kin, or perhaps Lurelia had somehow called them back as part of the attack on Evaline and Pix.
Either way, that didn’t matter.
What mattered was that the Ankh had gotten away.
Again.
The music had stopped, and I looked toward the stage. Miss Adler had quite a bit of explaining to do, and I was steaming over toward her and her accompanist to accost her when I got a good look at the piano player for the first time.
I froze. Everything froze. Even my throbbing injuries stopped hurting. “Dylan?”
Miss Holmes
~ Far Too Many Questions Than Answers ~
“Dylan?” I said, louder. I might have actually shrieked it, in fact.
“Mina!” He turned toward me, shock and pleasure on his face. The next thing I knew, he was embracing me in a strange sort of way, swinging me a little from side to side as my toes brushed the floor. “Oh, Mina, I’m so glad to see you again!”
“What—what are you doing here?” I was numb. Shocked, numb, completely blindsided. My brain simply couldn’t comprehend it.
“I came back. I was helping Miss Adler,” he said, looking down at me with those bright blue eyes and handsome smile. Then it faded. “I returned to my time, 2016 and—and things were really, really different. I felt as if I were living in an alternate reality.”
“I…”
He was still talking, in a sort of confused tone. “I thought maybe me being here and doing things had somehow changed the future. So I thought I’d try to come back using the statue of Sekhmet like before and…well, I wanted to see if I could fix things. By coming back. And then Miss Adler…well, she and I had been in touch twice through the cell phone—you know, that telephone thing I left here? She helped me figure out how to get back. And then she asked me to help her go undercover here for a while.”
I looked over and saw the others watching us.
I lowered my voice. “But…you didn’t… Why didn’t you… But I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me you were back, Dylan?”
“I was going to,” he said with a crooked smile. “I just— Well, I was helping Miss Adler here and didn’t want to take the chance that I’d blow our cover. Did you like the music? I thought it would be interesting to bring some of the stuff from my time here, just to see how it would go over.”
“Right,” I said. I was very, very confused. I was happy Dylan was back, but I had a lot of questions. Some of them were more painful than others.
But before I could begin to pick through them and try to ask—and receive—some answers, I heard the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat.
I looked over to see Evaline making some of those weird facial expressions I can never understand. She always seemed to be having a twitch.
When I looked at her blankly, she rolled her eyes.
“Well,” I said, suddenly blinking back tears. My head felt a little woozy too. I absently touched the bite mark at my neck. “Well.”
I looked around and noticed that the club’s customers all seemed to have melted away—run off, most likely. It was just the group of us remaining.
I blinked and focused on Miss Adler. “Did you send me the carnelian crow pin?”
“No,” she replied. I was glad she appeared at least a little abashed; I somehow felt that she’d betrayed me, but I couldn’t put my finger on why or how. “It wasn’t me. I…well, I didn’t think The Carnelian Crow was a place for a young lady—even for you. However,” she added quickly when I began to bristle, “clearly I was wrong. You and Evaline acquitted yourselves handsomely.”
I was slightly mollified by her compliment, but I still felt an underlying burble of anger.
“And what about Lady Thistle?” I asked in a brittle voice. “It was Magpie who killed her, right? Did the Ankh have her do the deed in order to keep me from finding the entrance to this place?”
“That was Magpie,” replied Miss Adler. “Acting on her own.” When I looked at her in question, she explained, “I might not have gotten as far as you did, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t learn anything during my stint here as the evening’s entertainment. Magpie acted on her own, believing the Ankh would have wanted her to do so. She killed Lady Thistle, and then made sure the entrance to The Carnelian Crow was destroyed.”
I nodded. I had many, many more questions for Miss Adler—about my mother and Lady Isabella—but I was far too weary. And heartsick. And confused. They could wait.
“I suppose we’re done here. At least for now, then,” I said—since I seemed to be the only one interested or able to form words. “The Ankh has once again gotten away. But we’ve stopped her plot—at least for the time being.” I gestured to the box of batteries they’d gathered up. She wouldn’t be controlling Parliament anytime in the near future. “There’s nothing more to be done. Tonight, anyway.” Perhaps even for longer. Surely it would take Lady Isabella time to regroup and reform her plan. And get more batteries…
I suddenly felt very weary. I just wanted to go home.
Perhaps I could share a hackney back with Grayling, and we could discuss the next steps. And…other things. I brightened a little at the thought. I felt my cheeks warm at the memory of our intimate interlude. I couldn’t tell him about the Ankh’s identity—not yet—but perhaps I could begin to lay the groundwork for the painful revelation.
“Not quite,” said the man in question. “There is one more thing to which I must attend.”
I turned to Grayling. He wasn’t looking at me, however. There was a set expression on his face—quite different from the one he’d had only a short time earlier, when we were sitting at that private table in this very room.
“What do you mean?” I asked. But he still didn’t look at me.
Instead, he turned to Pix. “Mr. Edison Smith, I am placing you under arrest for the murder of Hiram Bartholomew.”
“No!” exclaimed Evaline. “No.” She whirled between Pix and Grayling, her eyes flashing.
Pix gave the inspector a measured look. “When did you figure it out?”
“I’d thought for a time you looked familiar,” replied the inspector. “But wasn’t certain until I saw you again—more clearly, and without your ever-present disguises—tonight.”
Pix gave a brief nod, then turned to Evaline. “Now you can be free to marry Ned Oligary.” He stood there stoically as the restraints were fixed around his wrists with dull, final clinks.
Evaline and I watched in taut silence as Grayling took Pix away.
Neither of them gave us a backward glance.
Stoker & Holmes continues
Stay tuned for the fifth and final book in the Stoker & Holmes series, coming in 2018!
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In the mean time, read on for a special short story about Evaline’s great-great-grandmother, the vampire huntress
Victoria Gardella.
Victoria Gardella: Vampire Hunter
In Which a Masquerade Ball
Unmasks an Undead
London, 1819
“My lady, your mother is wearin’ a hole in the floor,” Verbena said as she twisted a final curl into place at the top of her mistress’s coiffure. “She claims ye’ll be late for the masquerade ball if y’ don’t hurry. And something about the Marquess o’ Rockley attendin’ and wantin’ to see ye?”
Miss Victoria Gardella Grantworth looked in the mirror, eyeing her maid’s creation in the form of a tall—very tall—coiffure. Her dark hair had been piled to an impossible height, and then powdered so that her black curls looked more gray than white. A small bluebird perched at the side of her column of hair, and a bejeweled comb rested at the top. Pink and yellow flowers and a variety of jewels further decorated the powdered curls.
“I don’t know that Marie Antoinette’s hair was ever this particular hue,” Victoria said, “but I think it looks lovely. And perhaps
I’d best go down before Mother comes up to drag me off.”
She stood, and the skirts of her gown rose with her as if they had a life of their own. Victoria was used to wearing the high-waisted, clinging skirts of contemporary styles, but these wide panniers and heavy brocaded layers of fabric at least left her legs free to move beneath without getting too caught up in the skirts. The only other benefit of the yards of material dripping from her body was that there were plenty of places to slip a wooden stake into or between ruffles, lace, or gathers. She felt for the one that rested just to the right side of her torso, cunningly hidden behind a pouf of lace.
“I do hope there aren’t any vampires at Lady Petronilla’s ball tonight,” Victoria said, drawing on her gloves. “It will be impossible to fight them in this costume.”
“But m’lady, if there are, you’ll be very prepared,” Verbena told her, a sparkle in her blue eyes. “I’ve slipped one o’ your littler stakes here in the back of your hair.” She poked at the heavy mass near the back of Victoria’s crown. “Just in case.”
“If I pull it out, likely it will all come falling down,” Victoria replied, gingerly feeling for the stake. “But in a pinch, I suppose it shall do. I only hope I’ll not have need of it. I have been looking forward to one night where I don’t have to make some excuse to sneak out and stake a vampire.”
Verbena handed her mistress a small reticule. “Holy water, an’ a cross in here, my lady,” she told her. “An’ you look lovely.”
Victoria might look like any normal young woman, just debuting into Society, but beneath her gown—whether it be a fashionable high-waisted one, or the retrospective costume she currently wore—she harbored a secret that made her very different from any other girl.
She wore the vis bulla, a tiny silver cross amulet that gave her superhuman strength, speed, and healing capability. Victoria Gardella Grantworth was a Venator, a vampire hunter descended from a long line of slayers in the Gardella family. Her duty, beyond that of her unsuspecting mother’s expectation that she marry well, was to hunt the undead who lurked in the shadows of London Society. And everywhere else in the world.
The Carnelian Crow: A Stoker & Holmes Book (Stoker and Holmes 4) Page 26
