The Chess Queen Enigma

by Colleen Gleason

  I admitted to myself I was concerned for his health. Dylan’s tales about patients dying from infected vampires wounds had made a strong impression on me. If I had been aware of Grayling’s worsening condition, I would never have sent word for him to come to our aid tonight.

  If something happened to Grayling, then . . . well, who would find out who’d killed his mother?

  Just then, I heard the sound of a long, keening cry in the distance. It sounded as if someone was being tortured.

  My eyes flew open and I stumbled around Dylan, trying to listen even as he continued to edge along.

  “Careful,” he whispered, taking my arm.

  I could see the dim filter of illumination ahead, and that emboldened me enough that I no longer squeezed my eyes closed. Two dark shadows ahead of us, one exceedingly tall, and the other slighter and much shorter, told me Evaline and Grayling had paused as well.

  When Dylan and I approached, she gestured for us to move in more closely.

  “Vampires,” Evaline said into my ear. “Somewhere ahead.”

  Then the four of us held a whispered argument for a moment in which the suggestion was raised that Dylan and I remain here while Grayling and Evaline went on ahead and investigated, but I immediately declined. Regardless of what was ahead, I preferred to find out rather than to wait here in the close, enveloping darkness.

  I was prepared. We were all armed. We had the element of surprise. And we had a vampire hunter in our midst.

  For the first time, I was quite relieved to leave Evaline in the lead.

  My opinion prevailed, and the four of us inched along through the dim light. The pointed stone arches resembled nothing so much as a church, and the passageway led around a corner. There were two other branches leading off into dimness, but by now, flaming sconces lit the way very nicely.

  I held my uncle’s Steam-Stream gun at the ready, and noted that my companions had also armed themselves. Grayling gripped the fascinating firearm I’d noticed the night he brought me home and we encountered Dylan trying to get into my house. Evaline, of course, brandished a stake along with her knife-blade walking stick. Dylan had also been outfitted with a gentleman’s walking stick that doubled as a sword.

  The tortured cries echoed more loudly . . . but the victim was becoming weaker. I shivered, but pressed on until Evaline held out her arm in a silent, sudden gesture to halt. She curled her fingers around the edge of an entrance and turned to look back at us with shocked eyes.

  A spill of light poured onto the uneven dirt floor just beyond the wall where we’d paused. I edged forward, pushing past Grayling to peer around the corner.

  What I saw made me catch my breath audibly. The chamber was low-ceilinged and quite large. It was punctuated by a series of pointed archways that led into the darkness, and I deduced the space might originally have been a chapel or even a small church for the friars. It smelled musty and damp, but there was a lingering scent of something burning . . . something unfamiliar and ghastly. I feared I knew what it was. Gas lamps studded the walls, lighting the space as brightly as a parlor in Mayfair, but the rest of the furnishings were rudimentary: stone walls, uncovered floors, crude tables, chairs, and benches.

  Except for the scene in the center of the chamber.

  It was a laboratory; that was the only way to describe it. Machinery, wires, lights, and a variety of tools filled the space. At the far end was a tall glass enclosure with an opening on one side. In the center were three long tables. And on each of the long tables and in the glass enclosure was a figure. Captives—all men as far as I could tell, held in place by straps and cuffs.

  Moving between the three tables was the perpetrator of the torture. I say this because the individual would stop next to a table, move a lever, and there would be a white spark that traveled from a wire to the man on the corresponding table. He would arch and shriek and writhe as sparks zipped over the wire. Thus, the scent of burnt flesh.

  But what caught my attention most horrifically was that when the victims arched and cried out, their eyes turned blazing red. Fangs burst from their gums, and tendons and muscles bulged as they writhed helplessly against their bindings.

  Vampire torture.

  But even knowing they were malevolent beings, I couldn’t bear to watch . . . I couldn’t excuse the ongoing torture.

  And while I wanted and expected the torturer to be the Ankh, I immediately recognized it wasn’t. However, when she—yes, indeed, a female—moved away from the line of tables to adjust some settings on a panel, I saw her face and recognized her as one of the Ankh’s assistants during the Sekhmet ordeal. I couldn’t tell which of the two nearly identical women known as Amunet and Bastet she was, but at the moment, it didn’t matter.

  Evaline gripped my arm, pulling my attention away. Her eyes shone wide in a face of dead white. Pix, she mouthed, but I had already noticed the dark-haired man at the far end of the row of tables. Unlike the others, he wasn’t strapped to a table, but was affixed upright in the glass enclosure, sagging in some sort of bindings. His condition didn’t appear promising.

  Then the horrible thought struck me. Good gad . . . was Mr. Pix an UnDead now? Though he was a miscreant and a thief, I didn’t want to see him like that. Being vampiric was a death sentence . . . and despite the inadvisability of it, Evaline seemed to care somewhat for him.

  Thus it was my turn to grab Evaline’s arm, and she seemed to read my mind. Face taut, eyes dark pits, she shook her head in sharp negation—whether it was to tell me he wasn’t an UnDead, or whether he was and she was writing him off, or whether she didn’t know wasn’t at all obvious.

  But before I could insist on clarification, a different sound filled the chamber. A number of new arrivals made themselves known: three burly men, one of whom I was certain was Hathor—another unpleasant individual from the affair of the clockwork scarab—as well as two more females (one being Amunet or Bastet’s counterpart, and the other unfamiliar to me) . . . and the Ankh. The lower half of her face was covered, but her mode of dress and the gloves on her hands told me everything I needed to know.

  I tensed, vibrating with fury and triumph. She was here. I’d known she would be.

  Strong fingers closed over me from behind, and I struggled, then realized it was Grayling and Dylan, both of whom had clamped hands on my arms to hold me back. As if I would have rushed forward willy-nilly. That was Evaline’s style, not mine.

  Still, I could feel myself itching to go boldly forth and take that evil villainess by surprise.

  “What have you to report, Bastet? Any progress with these gentlemen here?” The Ankh spoke in a deep voice as she gestured to the row of three beds.

  “They don’t seem to be responding properly to the treatment, master.”

  The Ankh’s demeanor portrayed displeasure. She gestured to Hathor and the other two burly men. “Free one of them. Let us see whether they have learned to respond appropriately.”

  I was quivering with fascination, even as I felt Evaline gather herself up to burst forth. No, I thought silently. Wait. We had to see what she meant to do . . .

  As her men went about doing her bidding, the Ankh retrieved a small metal device from near the table and spoke intently to Bastet. The mechanism was larger than the one Mr. Pix dealt in, and even from my position I could see it was not the same. It was less elegant and more bulky. Additionally, there were dials and levers on it, as well as a curling wire that dangled like a tail. The Ankh held the mechanism in her hand as one of the vampires was freed from his bindings. He stumbled off the table, looked around, and then lunged toward the nearest individual—Amunet. No, it was the scientist/torturer Bastet.

  The Ankh did something with the device—turned a knob—and the vampire jolted, pausing for a moment . . . but he did not release Bastet.

  He plunged his fangs into her throat, and the woman shuddered and arched, clawing ineffectually at him as he drank deeply, roughly and violently. I could not look away from the horror of the table
au. The rich, iron scent of too much blood filled the air, and the other two vampires began to struggle, fighting desperately against their bonds. They wanted the blood too. They wanted to drink.

  Evaline shivered next to me and I felt her body as it grew taut and ready.

  Not yet, I thought hard, trying to send her a mental message. Not now.

  Our other companions seemed to agree, for I felt them move closer to hold on to Evaline this time.

  To my disgust, the Ankh merely watched as the vampire gulped from his helpless victim. She seemed to be fiddling with the device in her hand, but whatever her intent, nothing appeared to change. Was she trying to somehow control the vampire?

  The UnDead fed on, desperately and roughly, and the jolting of Bastet’s body slowed and her twitches became further and further apart as her struggles waned.

  At last, the vampire pulled away and released the woman. She slumped to the ground and lay there unmoving. The Ankh stepped over her as her three male assistants grabbed the sated vampire and held him by his arms. The UnDead struggled, but the Ankh ignored the vampire as she walked around behind him.

  Though she didn’t speak, her movements were filled with anger and frustration. Clearly, whatever she’d hoped to happen had not come to pass.

  I couldn’t see precisely what she was doing behind the UnDead, who, despite having fed, was still too weak to shake free from his captors. The Ankh appeared to have raised her arms and was doing something at the back of his neck. When she at last came around from behind him, she was holding a small palm-sized object. I could see two wires protruding from it at one end.

  Pix’s device.

  My eyes widened and I turned to Grayling, who had been watching with the same horrified expression I knew I wore. He looked at me at the same moment, recognizing precisely what I’d just realized. Had she just detached the device from the back of the vampire’s neck? Even from here, I was certain it was the same sort of device Mr. Pix had been selling.

  Was that what had caused the creature to buck and writhe during the torture, somehow controlled by the other mechanism the Ankh had been using?

  “Restrain him again,” said the Ankh in her deep, fake male voice. “I don’t wish to have any distractions while I deal with this one.”

  I felt Evaline go utterly still as the villainess moved toward Mr. Pix’s glass enclosure. She stood in front of the opening, tilting her head as she faced him.

  “Still alive, I see. Excellent. I’d hate to lose you so quickly, my clever friend. You have kept me on the chase for quite some time now . . . and I confess I wasn’t quite certain it actually was you until you made your appearance here. But now I have the opportunity not only to find out precisely what you know, but also to engage you in some of my own experimentation. You are the perfect candidate—and how ironic that you should be the one to supply the tool for that which seals your own destiny. Hasn’t anyone ever explained the dangers of dealing in illicit business, my dear Mr. Smith?”

  To my surprise, and Evaline’s obvious relief, Pix moved. He lifted his dark, matted head and must have said something to the Ankh, for she reared back a little in surprise.

  “Indeed. Well, we shall see about that. I suspect with a little more convincing, you’ll be more than happy to tell me everything you know about Emmet Oligary. And then after you’ve confessed everything, we shall move on to more amusing things.”

  She stepped back and moved a lever. Evaline’s muscles tightened, but nothing violent occurred. Inside the glass enclosure, Pix revolved, spinning slowly around until he faced the opposite direction.

  The Ankh picked up a familiar metal device in her gloved hands. The same two wires protruded from it like the one she’d removed from the vampire. They looked like the antennae on an insect, but this was no insect. I watched in fascinated horror as she moved inside the glass enclosure behind Pix. I had an awful suspicion I knew what she was about to do.

  Apparently so did Evaline, for I felt her gather herself up.

  “Now, keep very still, my dear,” warned the villainess. “It will hurt less . . .” When the Ankh’s arm moved sharply near the back of his neck and Pix jolted, then shuddered violently, I knew my suspicions about how she was using Pix’s devices had been correct.

  There was no holding Evaline back any longer.

  She shrugged easily from the grip of our companions and burst wordlessly onto the scene. The trio of hulking men spun in surprise and roared toward her even as the Ankh turned to see.

  “Why, Miss Stoker. How good of you to join us. And—oh, you’ve brought reinforcements!” Even as she greeted us, the villainess positioned the second wire into the back of Pix’s neck. He cried out as she jammed it in place, and for the first time he began to struggle against his bindings.

  Evaline hadn’t paused in her attack; nor did she waste energy or effort with the social nicety of speech. She flew sleekly at the first of the men who came toward her, swinging her stake and slamming it into his flesh as she ducked under his beefy arm. He wasn’t an UnDead, but he did cry out and stagger back under the onslaught of the infuriated vampire hunter. Blood spurted from the wound in his chest, but he dove after her anyway.

  Grayling, Dylan, and I were right in her wake, and in a matter of moments, the melee was on. I trained my Steam-Stream gun at one of the burly men, pulling back sharply on the trigger. The blast of steam roared forth with such force that I flew backward and nearly landed on my posterior.

  “What on earth are you doing? Free them!” the Ankh shrieked, forgetting to keep her voice deep and masculine. She’d turned from her position behind Pix, and watched in fury even as she continued with her work behind him.

  Amunet, who’d been slinking off toward one of the arched hallways, started and rushed back to untie the three vampires.

  I didn’t see what happened next, for I’d tripped over the body of Bastet and stumbled to my knees. Fortunately, I kept a good grip on my firearm and blasted it at the back of one of the men as he lunged toward Dylan. The hulk cried out as the shot of steam seared through his trousers, and he crashed to the ground.

  Exhilarated by that small victory, I rushed past Grayling, who was facing off with one of the guards, his cognog firearm shooting streams of something blue and green in turns. He seemed to have that combat well in hand, and I headed toward the Ankh. I needed to pull that mask from her face . . . or better yet, steam her with a stream from my gun.

  But I misjudged the corner of a table and slammed into it, which knocked me off my path and sent tools and equipment flying. Someone grabbed me from behind and I smelled the stench of death and blood as the face of an UnDead swooped toward me.

  Just as the fangs scraped my skin, the vampire froze, then jolted against me. Poof! He was gone in a cloud of thick ash. Coughing, I spun to see Grayling stagger away. Even in that moment, I saw he was seriously favoring his wounded arm, and I watched in horror as one of the vampires grabbed him up and flung him onto a recently vacated table.

  Grayling’s weapon spun from his grip and clattered to the ground. I dove for it, just missing being stepped upon by one of the hulking men.

  I didn’t know what button did what on Grayling’s device, but I began pushing them and pulling on the trigger as I roared up with the weapon in hand, aiming it randomly. A stream of green blazed out, shocking me with its violence—and slicing the skin off Amunet’s arm.

  I staggered away, spinning to see the vampire holding Grayling on the table with one large hand as he lunged toward his shoulder with gleaming fangs. Grayling’s free arm swung away and up, then shot forward, fingers gouging into the UnDead’s eyes.

  The vampire shrieked and reared back, then lunged again toward Grayling as I sprinted toward them. I used all my strength to clock the UnDead on the back of the head with the firearm, then stumbled away as I dug furiously around my skirt for the wooden stake I’d stuck in there.

  As I slammed backward into someone behind me, I found the stake with my fingers. The v
ampire flew toward me, and I fumbled the wooden pike into an awkward grip . . .

  Poof!

  The vampire couldn’t stop himself in time and impaled himself directly on the stake. The force of his movement was so strong, my arm snapped back painfully, and my whole body swung around. I skittered to the ground with a thunk.

  As I pulled myself to my feet, I heard a furious cry from the direction of the Ankh, then immediately the sounds of sparking and an ugly zapping noise.

  “No!” screamed Evaline, flying through the air toward the glass enclosure, the Ankh, and Pix.

  Pix gave a roar of pain, then one massive jolt and collapsed bonelessly, hanging there by the restraints around his wrists.

  I warded off another attack by one of the hulking men, who slung me violently to the ground by the back of my bodice. My breath was knocked out of me, and I hit my head so hard black spots danced in my vision. I reached weakly for the weapon I’d just dropped, but a large boot kicked it away.

  Then someone slammed into the back of the man’s head. I caught a glimpse of Dylan as he jabbed behind him with the blade of his walking stick as he barreled past, stabbing the man with his knife. The man roared and lumbered up after him, flinging blood everywhere.

  I shook my head, and after a moment pulled shakily to my feet, aware that the sounds of the melee had eased. I looked around.

  Ash wafted through the air, thick and smelling like death. Bastet lay on the ground, and one of the hulking men was hobbling out of the chamber as quickly as he could on his injured leg. Something heavy rolled down after him, blocking his exit . . . and that of the others as well.

  The Ankh was gone, and so were the rest of her assistants. Presumably, all three vampires were dead.

  Evaline was at the glass enclosure, tearing at the bonds that held Pix in place. Dylan was there with her, and together they freed him quickly. His muscular body sagged to the ground, and Evaline put her hand at his throat in a position to feel for a pulse.