by Kirk Zurosky
“That is ridiculous,” I said. “How can he have me right where he wants me? What can he do to unmarried, recently chaste me?”
“I had to ask him,” Johnson said. “The ones full of bluster like him and, well, me, can’t help it. I knew he would tell me. And he did.” Pecker paused for dramatic effect and drank deeply from his ale.
“Get to it, you Pecker. What did he say?”
“He said he had someone close to you that was going to be your downfall,” Johnson finished. “You were as good as in his clutches by his wine-sopped report.”
Jova gulped. “It’s not me,” he said.
“Nor I,” Oliver said.
“I don’t remotely question the loyalty of either one of you,” I said. “He probably means a woman, yes?”
“Good luck with figuring that out,” Jova said. “You shoot your phallus off more often than a cannon in the Royal Regiment.”
I ignored Jova and Oliver, who broke into laughter. “I am thinking he was blowing smoke up your ass,” I said. “I am not that easy to get to, you know.” Just then the door to the Wilted Lily opened, and in from the night, walked . . . no, sauntered . . . no, slunk a seductive woman who put the vamp in vampire. “Or maybe . . .” I said, staring openly at her copious cleavage, which was so full and inviting that it was threatening to bust out the pin holding her blouse in place. I just had to put my face there, and all rational thought disappeared into the night whence she came. She had full blood-red lips and long, lustrous saffron hair that she shook back out of her face. She blew me a flirty kiss and motioned for me to join her at a nearby table. “Or maybe,” I repeated, “I haven’t met her yet.” I took my ale and left Jova, Oliver, and Sir Johnson Pecker to their own devices.
“He can’t be serious,” Jova said. “He is not going to—”
“Oh, he is Sirius,” Oliver replied. “And that is why he absolutely is going to.”
“I like her tits,” Pecker mumbled. “I bet she’d like some Pecker—if you know what I am saying.”
“Cad,” Oliver said. “You know, Pecker does suit you, after all.”
I sat down at the table and stared into the vampire’s pretty hazel eyes. “I know why you are here,” I said with a knowing glance.
“Oh, do you?” she said. “For the venison stew, yes?” She ran her tongue lightly over her teeth, teasing each fang as she did. “It is absolute joy in your mouth.”
“Some tasty treats are just too hard to resist,” I said, putting my hand on her leg and enjoying the feel of her soft creamy skin. “You just have to give in to your heart’s desire.”
Her eyelashes fluttered as I trailed my hand up farther under her skirt and stroked her inner thigh. She fixed me with a most winsome gaze. “Am I your heart’s desire? I have long admired you from afar, Sirius Sinister,” she cooed. “And now this chance meeting puts me in your strong capable hands. Am I too hard to resist? Can you handle me?”
“So many questions, and I think my cock has all the answers,” I whispered in her ear.
“Take me, Sinister,” she moaned, her hand joining mine under her skirt. “I want your cock.”
“I would like to do nothing more than give it to you,” I said, removing my hand from her skirt and rising to my feet. “But I can’t.”
Stunned, the vampire looked around the room, confused by seeing no other vying for my attention. “Yes, you can,” she said. She spread her legs slowly. “I will taste so good in your mouth.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that for one juicy minute,” I said. “But do me a favor. Next time your dimwitted master, Martin, sends a girl to do a woman’s job, make sure he checks her over to see that she is not wearing her school pin!” I snatched the pin from her blouse, causing her breasts to spill out impressively, to Pecker’s great joy.
“I stand corrected,” Pecker sputtered. “I love her tits.”
The young vampire ran from the inn, clutching her breasts, and Pecker applauded. “Jolly good show,” he said. “How come you did not plow the field with that young filly? What’s wrong with you, Sinister?”
“Martin is an imbecile,” I said. “That is what’s wrong.” I took my seat back at their table. “He is an absolute novice at the game of life.”
“I can’t believe I just saw you turn down a roll in the hay,” Jova said. “Never thought I would see the day, or night, as it were. And she was objectively beautiful.”
“Indeed, in days past you would have known her game and still given her a good time, to hell with the repercussions,” Oliver said. “Well done.”
I did not tell them just how close I had been to taking her upstairs and having my way with her, and frankly, they did not need to know. Carnal knowledge had nearly trumped life experience, in spite of how obvious Martin’s plan had been. I had no doubt that a union with that shiny young apple would have born some unwanted fruit from my loins. Was I really that easy a mark for gilded pussy? “Come on,” I said. “It’s time we go to our inn and get some rest, for tomorrow we crown a new king, catch a thief, and hopefully kill an assassin.”
Had I taken a right instead of a left out of the Wilted Lily and glanced down the nearest alley, I would have seen the saucy young vampire standing with a man with an all too familiar sneer on his face, and lust in his heart and a whole lot lower. He leaned forward and kissed the sexy vampire passionately, and she moaned and combed her fingers through his long flaxen hair. He broke the kiss. “You did well, my pet,” he said, tweaking her exposed nipples with his hands. “I knew that buffoon would see the pin and think he exposed me, but now I have him right where I want him.”
“I want you to expose me,” she said. “Right here, right now.”
Martin looked around at the filth in the alley. “I am an attorney now,” he said. “A member of the bar doesn’t screw in the streets like some mangy mutt.”
She turned her buttocks to him and raised her skirt. Martin’s face never lost its dour expression as he rubbed a practiced hand across her backside and sighed, recognizing the foregone conclusion of this interlude. He loosened his belt. “But I guess I could make an exception just this once . . . woof, woof, my pet . . . woof, woof.”
Chapter 14
I found myself happy to not be burdened with the Professor as I walked up to Westminster Abbey. I was convinced that, had she been with us this time, somehow she would have caused me much calamity. I was so happy, too, that I had not seen the Howler this time, though Angus, in spite of his reduced size, was a big enough asshole for the both of them. Perhaps my mind was too occupied with thoughts of Kunchen and the Thief, because I walked straight into the garrison commander of the King’s Guard, knocking him to the ground. Normally, this would not have been an issue, but the garrison commander was the same soldier I had put out of commission at the last coronation. I had worn an Oxford delegation robe then as now, although time and circumstance had altered its look somewhat. What were the odds that this sad-faced chap, who with age looked even more like a beagle than he did more than a decade ago, would recognize me? Pretty good as it turned out.
“You!” he growled as I helped him to his feet. “I remember you, or should I say, my stomach and bollocks have a good memory of you. At the coronation of our dearly departed and eternally loved monarch King George I, you struck me! It’s a crime to assault an officer, you know, even if it was years ago, and I wasn’t an officer then. But I say it was a crime nonetheless.”
“I am sorry,” I said, doing my best to look confused, and perhaps feeling the part a little bit. “But you and I have never met.” I gave him the blankest look I could muster and turned my body to a less threatening position. “I am an academic not a soldier. I have never hit you. Heck, I don’t even know how to throw a proper punch.”
“Well, then you have a twin,” he said, not convinced. “I run this garrison, and even though we have a coronation in a few short hours, I think I can spare
some of my soldiers to escort you to the gaol, and then hopefully the gallows!”
He reached to put his hands on me, and I cursed myself for not seeing beagle boy here before I crashed into him. Not very master assassin–like and definitely sloppy for someone trained to recognize anything and everyone entering my personal space. If I kept this up, Kunchen’s arrow would find its mark, and the Thief would soon have all the Relics in her possession! Or Scorn would. And not one of those was a remotely acceptable proposition. “Hold on, good sir,” I said, easing slightly to the side of the abbey and lowering my voice. “You must have had a run-in with my older brother. He came to the coronation of King George I, and he was a bit unstable back then. He was expelled from Oxford. Come on, man, look at me, at the last coronation, I wasn’t that much removed from the wet nurse!”
Commander Beagle gave me a long stare. “Aye,” he said, “you are too young to be the man who struck me that day. I am sorry for the mistake. But where is this brother of yours now?”
“Dead,” I said. “He’s dead now, three years from the pistol of the one that found him with his secret lover.”
“I would like to say I am sorry for your loss,” the soldier said. “But I am not. He got what was coming to him. I only hope the authorities spared the poor soul who shot him, but his lover, now she deserved a just punishment.”
“I believe they left Farmer Jones to his own devices,” I said. “Sadly, my brother’s lover ended up as a nice rack of lamb.”
“Ewww,” said the commander.
“Exactly,” I said, brushing past him. I vowed to keep a low profile henceforward, went to my assigned seat, and wedged in with the rest of the Oxford delegation. The second time around the abbey was just as impressive as the first, and I took special care to admire the intricate detail and timeless beauty. My eyes fell on the large statues of Moses, Saint Peter, Saint Paul, and King David. Last time they had changed into something entirely unholy, but today they appeared to be only stone. I saw a great mass of lords and ladies assembling outside the abbey. The parade of excess was to begin with all of Europe’s finest royalty marching down the aisle. Angus would be in this parade of peers. I had never asked if he was a duke, count, or earl, and frankly, I did not care.
Finally, the ponderous procession of pomp began with enough ermine, gold, and jewels on display that I half expected a hungry horde of goblins to descend on the privileged and liberate necklaces from necks, rings from fingers, and crowns from heads, without the assistance of their royal owners. I peered out the door, and saw the well-armed King’s Guard, muskets at the ready, and the private security details of a host of nations. Each had several immortal mercenaries in their company, and thus, the goblins did well to stay away this day.
My neck grew tired from nodding to all the lords and ladies, and then a lordlady in a dress, or was it a really billowy set of pantaloons that caught my eye? I studied the lordlady as they passed, and I glanced over to Oliver, who merely shrugged, seeing nothing suspicious. From his vantage point across the aisle, which was superior to mine, he motioned that Angus was approaching. The lordlady went down in a heap of silky pantaloons, tripping over what I thought to be nothingness and going ass over teakettle. That preening peacock probably did it on purpose to get attention, particularly since this was the social event of the decade. I put a polite hand over my face to stifle a grin, as did the other patrons, until I recognized what absolutely was a kraken tentacle coming from their handbag that had been flung back to the entrance. I braced for screams and pandemonium that would degenerate into chaos, but no screams came. The nobles simply sat calmly, watching the lordlady scramble around for the purse.
“Oh, what a pretty green scarf that is,” the peeress next to me said. What was it about coronations that attracted magic that kept the mortals docile as sheep? I slid into the aisle with Oliver right behind me, and we came face-to-face with Commander Beagle.
“I knew it was you,” he said, motioning for a few of his guardsmen to join him. “You seem to have a problem with taking your seat. The king is coming, and you, my old friend, are leaving. I believe you have an appointment with the hangman.”
“It is me,” I said. “And I am leaving.” I saw the kraken struggle harder to get out of the purse, which clearly held some sort of wormhole. The lordlady had made it over to the purse and was yanking hard on its enchanted strings to free the huge marine menace. “Damn the baron,” I muttered.
“Are you insulting Baron Blackheart?” the commander said, looking back to where Angus, Jova, and their detail were approaching. “Not that it matters where you are going, but that is high treason.”
“And this is a low blow,” I said, sinking a practiced fist into his groin and ushering him out the entrance of the abbey.
Oliver followed quickly behind me, making eye contact with the two guardsmen approaching to save their commander. As they got closer, they realized just how large Oliver and his not so ceremonial sword were and ran from the abbey, wisely choosing desertion over tangling with the big troll. Oliver perfectly punted the purse with the lordlady still holding on to it, and they soared in a majestic arc, landing just outside the abbey’s great doors. Will and Connor of the Wood had seen the beast appear and were on it with their soldiers. But to the approaching Barons of the Cinque Ports, it looked like utter madness with a host of armed men attacking an old woman, trying steal her purse and scarf. “I say,” one baron cried from under his canopy. “What madness is this?”
Just then, Contessa and the girls, accompanied by Garlic, joined the fray. Garlic bounded right up to the kraken and weaved in and out of the tentacles, barking sharply and sending sonic bursts at the kraken’s angry yellow eyes. The kraken was momentarily beaten back by her barks, and Adelaide sprang into action. She bent to one knee and loosed an arrow from her bow with a thunder crash bomb on its tip, yelling to Will and Connor to move out of the way. They dove to the ground with Garlic snuggling between then, and the arrow shot straight and true over their heads and into the purse. Everyone leaped for cover, but there was only the sound reminiscent of a very loud belch, and the purse and the kraken suddenly winked out of existence, leaving one very unpopular lordlady behind.
“Oopsie,” they said. “Not sure how that got in there. Well, here come the barons. I had better get back in to the coronation. Sing, sing, let’s go crown a king! La-de-da-de-da . . .” And off they went in a flurry of pantaloons and mussed makeup.
Surprisingly, Angus was the first to get to them. “Not so fast, you traitorous buffoon,” he spat. “You better start talking, or King George is going to walk by and see one of his subjects with a sword up their ass!”
The lordlady considered that for a moment. “Thanks for the kind offer,” they said, pulling easily out of Angus’s grasp and heading again for the abbey. “Perhaps another time. I prefer my company a little bigger if you know what I mean.”
Angus followed after the lordlady, looking quite in shock, and his party followed after him. The Barons of Cinque Ports stopped for a moment, holding their canopies, unsure of what to do, but after giving the appropriate amount of space for the lesser Baron of Blackheart to enter the abbey, began their grand procession once again. I craned my neck and could see George II himself waiting, happily oblivious to the strange events that had occurred and the motley train he was following into Westminster Abbey.
Adelaide and Beatrice were at the back of Angus’s Pack with Will and Connor, who had instantly congratulated Adelaide on such an able shot to take down the kraken. Jova and Oliver walked right behind Angus, and Jova was busy whispering furtively to Oliver, who was nodding emphatically. “I will tell Angus to let the lordlady go,” Jova said, racing to catch up with Angus. Mary Grace, Contessa, and I kept pace with Oliver. Angus made the mistake of putting his hands on the lordlady once again, and I gasped as the lordlady flipped Angus over their hip and sent Angus crashing in a heap to the ground. “It’s rude to p
ut your hands on someone without asking first,” the lordlady said, dabbing a rogue bead of sweat from their brow and making a beeline for the abbey. “I will not have you ruin my makeup.”
“I don’t think that’s a lordlady,” Jova quipped. “In fact, I think I have a pretty good idea who it is. Don’t you remember, Sirius?”
“Uh, hell no!” I replied. What was Jova trying to say? That I passed the night with a lordlady?
“Exactly!” Jova replied. “Angus, don’t!”
“I am going to ruin your face,” Angus spat, rolling to his feet and launching himself at the lordlady. Taken by surprise, they stumbled backward, tripping over their pantaloons, though this time accidentally. Right as Angus was about to dive on the lordlady and commence a rather unholy beating on the steps of the abbey, a blur shot by all of us, and there was a flash of steel in the sun. There stood a grinning Adams holding up the bloody knife he had just stuck in Angus’s back, and he had another tracing a bloody line across the Pack leader’s cheek.
“Oh, I think I am a goner,” the boil spurted. “Avenge me, Sirius, for I will always remember your ass fondly.”
The boil was soon drowned out by Angus’s exasperated groans. “Kill him, boys, do not worry about me,” he gasped.
But the Pack did worry and did not attack while Adams held his knife across Angus’s face. Adelaide measured her bow for a shot to Adams’s eye, but Will quickly put a hand to her elbow and shook his head in the negative. “He is faster than you think,” he said. “And that arrow will wind up in Angus’s brainpan. I am sure of it.” The coronation procession had stopped behind us, and the vast number of bodies in the Braveheart contingent shielded the Barons of Cinque Port and King George II from seeing the mayhem in front of them. The crowd in the abbey merely thought that the king was taking his royal time. We were at a standoff.
“We have to do something, Father!” Contessa hissed.
