Curtsies & Conspiracies
“What’s going on?” demanded the scamp.
“Get us to engineering fast and I’ll tell you,” replied Sophronia.
“My pleasure.” Vieve whipped out her obstructor.
As they negotiated the halls at a jog, blasting one mechanical after another, Sophronia panted out her story again.
Vieve believed her without question. “Makes far more sense for the vampires to want to influence Dimity’s parents than old Ambrose’s excuse. Can’t understand why Lady Linette would believe him.”
Sophronia said, “This school has a vampire patron and a vampire teacher. Lady Linette wants to believe him. She wants to believe the potentate has control over the hives and that they aren’t kidnapping her students on a whim. I think Sister Mattie and Professor Braithwope, were he capable, are on our side. Captain Niall certainly is.”
“He would be. Werewolves always suspect vampires.” Vieve nodded gravely.
The sooties, after their conquest of the upper atmosphere, were mostly resting. A minimal crew kept the boilers at temperature—maintaining a steady position, heat for the residential sections, and power to the mechanicals.
The three girls dressed as boys clattered in and through the relative quiet without raising any suspicion. Even if two of them looked like an operatic take on bull-herding Spaniards.
Sophronia hoped Soap was also asleep; somehow she knew he’d be difficult if he found out what she was up to.
“Crikey, don’t you two look as fancy as fleas’ eyebrows!” said Soap, appearing behind her.
“Yes, well, it’s necessary.” Sophronia was short with her friend.
“Necessary? Those trousers are awful tight.” Soap’s eyes were wide. “Not that you don’t fill them out right, miss.” He lost his train of thought. “Oh, blast it.”
Sophronia came to his rescue. “We need to be able to cast doubt on a third party, in case we’re caught.”
“Caught doing what, exactly?” Soap demanded.
Vieve, little blabbermouth, answered him brightly, “Infiltrating a hive house.”
Soap’s dark eyes went worried. “Miss, is that a good idea?”
Sophronia gave up keeping him out of it. “No. It’s a dangerous, vampire-riddled mission, but they have kidnapped Dimity and Pillover.”
“I’m coming,” said Soap instantly.
“Now, Soap, you haven’t the training.” But Sophronia was already reconfiguring her plan to include him.
“And you aren’t finished with yours. At least I’ve experienced life.” The boy was already stripping out of his coal apron.
“Oh, very well. No time to argue. I’m worried about Dimity. She’s good but only in short bursts. Plus can you imagine her in a hive house? All that loose blood lying about.”
Soap said, “Coming, Vieve?”
Vieve shook her head. “Off-ship adventuring is not for me anymore. I’d sooner stay behind and provide the gadgets.”
Sophronia was relieved at that; she really would have had to put her foot down. At seventeen, Soap was grown and able to decide for himself. Vieve was too young to go breaking into vampire hives and too cheeky to take such things seriously.
The three went out the floor hatch, shimmying down the rope ladder.
“So,” said Soap, “where exactly are we going, and how do we get there?”
“My questions exactly,” said Captain Niall, coming up behind them out of the dark.
Sophronia looked at him expectantly. “Westminster Hive. Coming, sir?”
“Oh, really, young lady!” He had changed out of his evening dress to his customary greatcoat.
Sophronia blinked at him.
“Dressed like that?”
Blink, blink, blink.
“With a sootie and Lady Kingair?”
“Someone has to get Dimity and Pillover out, sir. And you can’t do it alone. Now can you?”
“Who said I—”
Sidheag interrupted. “He couldn’t do it regardless. The vampires would know the moment a wolf entered their hive.”
Sophronia made herself look expectant and wide-eyed. “But he can get us there. Sir, you have to help.”
“I do?”
“You believe me.”
“I do.” The werewolf was defeated by such logic.
“And you know where it is, don’t you?”
“I do.” Captain Niall sighed. “I’m going to get in a great deal of trouble for this. Very well, hop on.” With that, he changed form.
Werewolf change is an unpleasant thing to watch, and poor Soap had never seen it before. He yelped as the handsome captain went from being a fine specimen of manhood to a large, rangy wolf with a top hat tied to his head, squatting in a pool of fallen greatcoat.
Sophronia tried not to hear the way Captain Niall’s bones broke and knit back together with crunching noises. She tried not to see the way the man’s silky hair grew down and became fur, spreading like mold over his body.
Soap was quietly and efficiently sick behind a pile of cast-iron pilings. He bravely returned once the change was complete, although he was distinctly uncomfortable with the alteration. “Oh, miss, do we have to ride that?”
Sophronia, who had ridden a wolf only once before, pretended confidence. “It’s actually a pleasant way to travel.”
“I doubt that, miss.”
“You can go in the middle.”
If Soap felt his manliness in question over such an offer, he didn’t say so.
Sophronia climbed up front, her legs tucked up high. She gripped Captain Niall’s furry neck with her knees and his ruff with her hands. Soap climbed on after, wrapping both arms around her waist in a death grip. It was very intimate, especially with only a few layers of masculine clothing between them. However, Soap seemed too frightened to take advantage of the situation. Sidheag, accustomed to werewolf transport, took the rear, over the beast’s haunches, the most difficult seat to maintain. She gripped Soap’s waist in turn. The wolf was only just big enough, but he was certainly strong enough, and he took off at a pace more rapid than any horse could manage.
MISBEHAVING WITH PURPOSE
Captain Niall carried them directly to the hive. Sophronia recognized the neighborhood instantly. He was wise enough to go nowhere near the front door but let them off at a back alley near the kitchen entrance, where merchants delivered goods and servants came and went.
Sophronia marshaled her troops. “Soap, would you go in the back? We will need a warning in case of unexpected visitors. If anyone sees you, how about pretending you’re there to clean the chimneys?”
“At this hour?”
“Best I can think up on short notice. Sidheag and I are going in the front.”
“Barefaced?” Sidheag protested.
“Can you think of a better plan?”
“Who do we represent?” Sidheag asked.
“We’re dandy drones of a local rove vampire. We’ve been sent to find out what’s going on. We heard they kidnapped children, and our master does not approve. It’s worth a try.”
Captain Niall, still in wolf form, looked very worried.
Sophronia, thinking herself quite daring at giving a teacher instructions, even if he did look a bit doglike, said, “If you could stay to assist the retreat, Captain? Or go get the authorities, if you think they would come. Your decision.”
The werewolf sat back on his haunches with an air of decisiveness. He’d wait.
“He can’t carry five of us,” protested Sidheag. “I mean, if we are, by some miracle, successful in retrieving Dimity and Pillover.”
The werewolf growled.
Sidheag understood wolf growls. “Fine, he can carry five of us, but five of us would not be able to fit on top of him.”
Sophronia waved a dismissive hand. “We’ll figure that out later. We really should be getting on.”
The two girls left the alley and made their way down the street to the front door of the Westminster Hive.
Sophronia practiced her walk and her mannerisms, doing her best to be a man of fashion. Sidheag, who looked more like a man, also already walked like one. Sophronia thought they might have applied fake mustaches to good effect, but otherwise they weren’t bad. If only our clothes fit better.
They strode up the steps and pulled the bell rope.
A handsome footman opened the door. “Yes?” His eyebrows raised up nearly into his hairline at the sight before him. “… Sirs?”
“We have come to pay a call,” announced Sophronia, deepening her voice.
“Indeed. And who has sent you?”
Sophronia wiggled her fingers in dismissal. “Oh, you know.”
The footman pursed his lips, eyeing their attire. “Lord Akeldama will have his little jokes.”
Sophronia nodded, connecting the dandy vampire to the name. Professor Braithwope had mentioned that name in class recently. What had he said? Oh yes, that Lord Akeldama was frivolous but had standing.
“Oh, yes, he does like jokes.” She twirled about slightly.
The footman frowned. “Are you in your cups? She won’t like that, you know. It hasn’t been a successful attempt. She’s out of humor.”
Sophronia stopped twirling. “He wants to know what’s going on.”
“He always does. He’s usually more subtle about it.”
Sophronia only looked up at the ceiling of the hallway as if bored by the conversation.
“Are you a new drone?” the footman pressed.
Silence.
“I suppose you had best come in. Who shall I say has called?”
“Lord Dingleproops and Lord Mersey,” said Sophronia.
“Sounds like him,” said the footman.
He took them into the front parlor. “Wait here, if you please? She’s almost done with her current.”
Sophronia and Sidheag waited. The door was left slightly ajar. They watched in horror as two other footmen walked by carrying the comatose form of a young lady with thick honey-brown hair.
“Pity,” one was saying. “She had such neat stitches.”
The girl’s neck was savaged, her hair matted with blood.
Sophronia put a hand to her own mouth in horror, thinking for one terrified moment that it was Dimity.
“She will keep trying for a new queen. I think she’s lost the ability.”
“Wouldn’t let her hear you say that if I were you.”
Sidheag grasped Sophronia supportively by the arm. “Not Dimity,” she whispered.
“No, the dress is too somber.” Sophronia felt like she could breathe again.
The hallway cleared. A moment later they heard a familiar voice say, “I should return right away! It is, after all, my ball. Thank the countess for me, would you please? Such a delightful lady. So sorry the metamorphosis failed. It’s nice to know she has everything to hand. Or should I say, to fang?” A forced giggle.
Sophronia and Sidheag exchanged terrified glances. “Monique!”
They turned their backs to the open parlor door.
Monique, unfortunately, noticed that the vampire’s next callers were two young men of fashion waiting in the front parlor.