‘Of course I will.’ His expression said he was just glad she had got over her feelings for him in order to ask.
Mayfair, London.
Ceri had not really been in the mood for Demi-monde, but she had been faced with Gwyn, Twill, and Mei telling her that she needed to relax, and she needed to pay some more attention to Lily. The latter reason had been mean, but also true. Lily had got all dressed up for her, and then there had been the news break and they had been running from crisis to crisis ever since. So they had gone to Mayfair.
As they approached the club, however, they both started wondering if it was such a good idea. There was a woman, short and a little dumpy, standing outside the building with a placard which proclaimed ‘Babylon is Here.’ She was waving it at anyone passing by and saying something or other to them. The reaction she was getting in most cases was a quickening of pace.
As Ceri approached with Lily, both wearing long, leather coats, the woman eyed them, decided they looked like customers, and stepped forward. ‘And He cried mightily with a strong voice, saying, Babylon the great is fallen and is become the habitation of devils, and the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird! Go thee not into this foul and depraved place lest you be judged.’
Ceri came to a stop, saying nothing, but she looked down into the woman’s eyes.
The woman looked back, then quickly at Lily, and then back to Ceri. Her mouth hardened. ‘If a man sleeps with a man as with a woman, they have both committed a detestable thing. They must be put to death, their blood is on their own hands.’
It was entirely the wrong thing to say. Ceri felt the anger surge, felt her dragon-self rising to the surface, and knew her eyes were changing. She did not care. ‘Go. Away,’ Ceri growled. The woman’s eyes widened and she backed away. Then she turned and hurried down the street away from the door.
‘Did you use magic on her?’ Lily asked quietly as they walked up to the door with its subtle little plaque.
‘No, that would be illegal. I just glared at her.’
‘You did the eye thing, didn’t you?’
Ceri pushed the door open. ‘She got me angry.’
Reynolds, the stiff-looking man who greeted the guests, was there as usual. He was one of the few members of staff who wore clothes, unless you counted leather jeans or a body harness as clothes. Today, however, Mistress Arabella was with him.
The owner of the club was the kind of woman who made a strict corset look great. Her décolletage was being pushed and pressed into particularly impressive form tonight, and the floor-length, silk skirt split all the way up the front, just added to the look. She looked like a thoroughly self-assured woman, a dominatrix, which was exactly what she was.
‘You seem to have scared off our protestor,’ Arabella said, smiling as Ceri removed her coat.
‘She annoyed me,’ Ceri replied. ‘I told her to go away. I’ve been getting a lot better at glaring at people recently.’ She handed her coat to a woman in a strappy, leather harness and then went to sign in.
‘The poor girl has been out there since about midday. I think she deserves a rest. Lily is rather more dressed than usual…’
Ceri straightened up and looked around. She had dressed Lily in the new lingerie she had bought and a pair of black high-heeled pumps. She had also left out all the jewellery Lily was fond of wearing to the club, but her hair was pulled back into a ponytail by the conical ornament she wore at work. She still looked both gorgeous and every bit the submissive.
‘I’m trying to teach her that she doesn’t have to be naked to be my pet,’ Ceri said.
Arabella contemplated Lily for a second. ‘She’s not actually wearing much.’
‘Baby steps, Arabella. Um, a favour… Where do you get your clothes from?’
~~~
Ceri let out a soft groan as Lily’s hands worked over the muscles in her lower back. The baths at the club were perfect for massages and Ceri never passed up an opportunity for a really good massage from Lily.
‘Mistress?’ Lily said, her voice soft. ‘Why were you asking about Mistress Arabella’s clothes?’
‘I thought her designer might be able to work something up for us.’
‘Hmm, yes, some demonic corsetry.’
‘I don’t have the bust for the kind of dresses Arabella wears. I think something a bit like the fae witch dress, but… more… demony.’
‘Is “demony” a word?’
‘No.’ Ceri let out a soft moan as Lily’s hands shifted to a tense patch at the base of her spine.
‘Mistress is working too hard,’ Lily commented. ‘Her neck felt like it had iron rods in it.’
‘Now it feels like rubber bands,’ Ceri replied with a sigh.
‘Mistress needs to relax more.’ Lily’s hands slid between Ceri’s thighs, her fingers quickly finding the spot she was looking for.
Ceri let out a tiny squeak. ‘This is the quiet pool, pet.’
Lily began a slow circling motion which she knew drove Ceri nuts. ‘Mistress will have to be quiet then.’
Holloway, April 3rd.
‘Ceri,’ Cheryl said as she walked into the office her assistant had been allocated, ‘what are you wearing?’
Ceri looked down at her corset and skirt. ‘I came straight from the club. Lily and I had a very relaxing evening and I am feeling thoroughly refreshed and ready to face murders, falling angels, and aquatic thaumatology problems.’
‘That’s just mean.’ Cheryl’s gaze shifted to Lily who was apparently looking for research papers on the other computer in the room. The second office had been built for two, but Cheryl had never replaced her other assistant. ‘You don’t want to take your coat off, Lily?’
Lily took her hand away from the mouse, stood up, turned to face Cheryl, and opened up her coat to reveal the lacy bra and thong under it. ‘I came straight from the club too.’
‘That is just… cruel and unusual, but I should’ve seen it coming.’
As Lily sat back down Ceri said, ‘Lily’s hunting for some papers I need, and she’s available to make coffee and generally be useful.’
‘At least until lunch,’ Lily added. ‘I’m working tonight and I want some time to myself before then.’
‘Well, thank you,’ Cheryl said, smiling. ‘Gwyn and Faran are a godsend. Gwyn’s got everything organised like clockwork and Faran is talking the suppliers into whatever we need. He’s got the administrative heads of the two colleges eating out of his hand. Well, he has one and a rather attractive blonde has the other, but I’m ignoring the abuse of demonic power if it keeps them sweet.’
‘Dad always has been good at twisting people in knots. Of course, he has certain natural advantages, but he’s just got a lot of talent with social skills on top of that.’
‘He certainly is skilled,’ Cheryl agreed.
Lily looked around at her. ‘He’s persuaded you into the broom closet, hasn’t he?’
‘It was on that desk, actually,’ Cheryl replied, managing to keep her voice casual, though her cheeks were colouring.
‘I’ll have him tortured next time we’re in the castle,’ Ceri suggested. ‘No, wait, I never employed a torturer.’
‘We could put him in a few of the machines though,’ Lily countered. ‘Maybe the ones we haven’t worked out yet.’
Cheryl frowned. ‘You actually have a torture chamber?’
‘Faran wouldn’t let me rip it out,’ Ceri replied. ‘Aside from the scare factor he says that it’s the greatest collection of torture instruments in the world. It’s lacking a lot of more modern inventions…’
‘Thank God,’ Lily put in.
‘…but it’s a really amazing collection. I have to admit, some of the things down there are kind of beautiful… as long as you don’t think about what they do.’
‘We have the other kind of dungeon too,’ Lily pointed out. ‘Hiffy has added some very interesting equipment to that too.’
Ceri winced. ‘Demons have a lot of t
ime on their hands to, uh, invent ways of making things interesting, no matter what the type of, um, torture you’re interested in.’
‘Any thoughts on when you’re doing that conference there?’ Cheryl asked.
‘I’ll go over there at the weekend and arrange it,’ Ceri replied. ‘I want to do it soon though, because the Australian project depends on the results.’
Cheryl gave a smile. ‘Isn’t it nice to be cursed with living in interesting times?’
Battersea.
‘We found a rather confused man wandering down the railway line two days ago,’ Alexandra said. ‘He seemed to think he was an angel, so we put him up at Acre Lane.’
Ceri nodded. ‘If he can get about five miles away from here he can go back to whatever god he owes allegiance to.’
‘I’ll get word to Andrea at the shelter.’ The old werewolf looked over Ceri’s shoulder to where Michael was sitting, arms wrapped around his mate. ‘Michael is still kicking himself that someone got into the station to plant that thing.’
Ceri reached up and slapped Michael’s muzzle. ‘Well stop it. Whoever did it was quite possibly a dragon, and at the very least they had access to very advanced enchantment. You’re good, but you know I could get past you no trouble if I used magic.’
Michael gave a grumbling acknowledgement, but Ceri suspected he was not going to give up the guilt just yet.
‘Other than that,’ Alexandra went on, ‘things have been quiet. The protests at the station are giving a little concern, but they remain peaceful so far.’
‘No sign of them coming over here? There was one of them outside Demi-monde last night.’
‘I’ve had reports of a couple of them walking past, but no protests. Anita has increased the standing guard around the island, just in case.’
‘That sounds like a plan.’ Ceri patted Michael’s arm. ‘Come on, let me get into fur and we’ll go do a border run. There’s that spot you like down by Eagle Pond. I’ll let you catch me there.’
Michael gave a rumbling growl and Alexandra laughed. ‘You’re not supposed to let them know we allow them to catch us, dear. It takes all the mystery away.’
Mayfair.
Ishifa peered around the interior of the Dubh Linn as though she might get eaten at any moment. It was not actually an entirely unreasonable fear; some of the inhabitants of the pub would have considered a fairy as a potential light snack, which was why there was a pipe running from the roof of the building down to the solid, polished wood bar.
‘Come, Ishifa,’ Twill said as she dropped to the end of the bar, ‘it’s not the most civilised of places, but Sean won’t let anything happen to us.’ She was speaking Low Fae rather than English, which was nice for Ishifa. Her English was still distinctly fragmentary.
As Ishifa landed, the tall, saturnine barman stalked toward them, a smile on his handsome features. He was Sidhe, you could just tell from the dark good looks and the slight glamour which hung around him like an aura of masculinity.
‘Mistress Wintergreen,’ Sean began.
‘Twill,’ Twill corrected. ‘My family has disowned me for one thing, and “Gloriandel” is too much of a mouthful.’
The Sidhe’s smile broadened. ‘Mistress Twill, then, always a pleasure to see you in my humble establishment, and who is your pretty young friend?’ Ishifa just about melted.
‘This is Ishifa Bushbottom, my fellow exile. Ishifa, this is Sean Finn Connell, and don’t let his charm fool you, he’s a rogue.’
Sean clutched at his chest. ‘You wound me, Mistress Twill. Make it up to me, let me show you…’
‘That trick you learned with a pencil eraser? I think not. Two glasses of mead, please.’
Still smiling, Sean dipped his hand under the counter to retrieve two small, fairy-sized glasses. ‘O’course, Mistress Twill, but the offer’s always there. Perhaps your friend would like to try?’
Ishifa let out a squeak and fought the urge to hide behind Twill. ‘N-no thank you, Mister Connell.’
Sean grinned at her and poured out two measures of mead while Twill unfolded a five pound note from her bag. ‘It’s Sean, kid. Only people who ever called me Mister Connell are long dead.’ He took Twill’s money and walked off to the till.
‘Twill?’ Ishifa asked.
‘Yes, dear?’
‘Why would he even want to…? I mean, how would I be able to… uh… well, satisfy him?’
‘I’m sure I wouldn’t know,’ Twill replied, lifting her glass and taking a drink.
‘Oh… Sorry.’ A little dejectedly, since she seemed to have upset her not-mistress-anymore, Ishifa tried her mead. Her head felt swimmy almost immediately.
Twill sighed. ‘I only did it once. A favour for a favour. It’s a lot of hard work and then you have to spend ages getting goo off your wings.’
Sean returned with the change, cutting off any reply, which was fine as far as Twill was concerned. ‘What brings you out to these parts?’ he asked. ‘If you’ll be begging my pardon, young Ishifa seems to be a little sensitive for the Dubh Linn.’
‘I’m seventy-three!’ Ishifa protested.
‘Oh well, all grown up.’ His tone implied otherwise, which was fair given the age fairies lived to.
‘More to the point,’ Twill broke in, ‘she’s been exiled here just as I have. I’m showing her around the town when I can and, strange as it is to say it, this is one place where a fairy can come if she’s in trouble.’
Sean gave a grudging nod. ‘The Lady wouldn’t let either of you come to harm here.’
‘The Lady?’ Ishifa asked. Then her eyes widened. Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘The Dubh Linn… The Lady of the Black Pool lives here?’
‘In a way,’ Sean replied. ‘A rumour you might be interested in,’ he went on, apparently changing the subject. ‘Well, less a rumour and more a fact, really. Hildegard Braun was in here Tuesday night.’
Twill’s eyebrows went up. ‘Above ground? Her?’
Sean nodded. ‘First time I’ve seen her, or heard of her coming up, in a couple of years.’
‘Who did she kill?’
‘No one. Came in looking for information, as best I can tell. Questioned a couple of vamps and then left.’
‘Sorry,’ Ishifa said, ‘but who are we talking about?’
‘Hildegard Braun is a vampire,’ Twill replied.
‘Huh,’ Sean grunted. ‘She’s the vampire in London. Oldest one anyone knows of. She lives in the Underground pretty much all the time, but she’s got her fingers in everything vampiric going on in the city.’
‘If she’s come up, it must be for something pretty serious.’
‘Aye,’ Sean said, ‘and I’m sure you know someone who’d be interested in knowing about it.’
Twill gave a nod. Out of the corner of her eye she saw something move in the shadows, or perhaps the shadows themselves moving. Sean was the medium, but it was the Lady who wanted the information passed on.
Soho.
‘Hildegard Braun on the surface,’ Carter mused as he personally served Twill and Ishifa on one of the small tables at the end of the bar. ‘I wonder what she could be looking for.’
‘Nothing good,’ Lily commented. ‘She didn’t even surface when Raynor was here. If she feels she has to deal with this personally…’
‘I feel like I am missing much,’ Ishifa stated sadly. ‘London is… much different from the Wintergreen… estates.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘And speaking English is hard.’
‘Would you believe,’ Carter said, ‘that it started out as a trade language? It’s technically far simpler than German or Dutch. Unfortunately, after a lot of centuries, it’s developed a lot of annoying exceptions to the simple rules.’
‘You’ll pick it up,’ Lily said, smiling. ‘As for the history, Raynor was an Ancient vampire, a part-demon, part-undead creature who tried to get the vampires here to rise up against the living.’
‘Was?’ Ishifa queried.
‘Ceri got him banished to Hell.’
Ishifa’s eyes widened. ‘She can do that?!’
‘With some help from an angel,’ Lily replied, grinning. ‘The angels have decided that they can’t damn all the intelligent undead for what they are, or they’ve been told they can’t, but Ancients are another matter. They really hate Ancients.’
‘Well,’ Twill said, ‘under the circumstances, I decided that we would come here and hitch a ride home with you tonight, Lily. If there’s something out there which Hildegard Braun is looking for, I’m not sure I feel safe.’
Lily shook her head, grinning as she did so. ‘Twill, you and Ishifa rode into battle with Titania.’
‘Oh that was easy, she did most of the hacking.’
London Underground, Northern Line, April 4th.
Ishifa was more than a little tipsy. She tended to get giggly and a little flirtatious when she was drunk, and she was having some issues with hanging onto the collar of Lily’s coat. Sitting down on the tube train made life easier, but did not diminish the giggling.
‘Alec ish nice,’ the little black-haired woman slurred.
‘Yes, he is,’ Lily replied.
‘He ish a werewolf, like Michael.’
‘I know. Well, Alec is a black-fur, but they are both werewolves.’
‘Watsh that mean?’
‘Black-furs are the purest blooded of werewolves. Very little human in them. Michael’s father was a black-fur, his mother was human.’
‘Oh.’ There was a slight pause and then, ‘I wouldn’t mind some Alec in me,’ followed by a giggle.
‘I’m just glad there’s no one else in the car with us,’ Twill commented from the other shoulder.
As she said it, the train pulled into Embankment and Lily spotted two figures on the platform. She tensed, which made Twill look in the same direction. Generally vampires could be trusted not to be a bother, but sometimes the older ones could lose sight of their humanity enough to ignore the law or the younger ones could be stupid, and there was the fact that the oldest of them was out on the town hunting someone or something.
‘They look young,’ Twill said.
‘Uh-huh, so if they get fresh I’ll turn my aura up to full,’ Lily replied. ‘That should take them out until we can get off.’
Thaumatology 12: Vengeance Page 7
