Timeless

The rest of her kept walking, in defiance of Genevieve’s request. She had her parasol hanging from its chatelaine at her waist. She had the address of the location on a scrap of paper. She moved across the reception room and out into the street, Genevieve unaware of her movements.

There Alexia hailed a donkey boy and told him the address. The boy nodded eagerly. With very little effort at all, she climbed astride, the boy yelled to his creature in Arabic, and they started forward.

The donkey took her into an unfamiliar sector of the city, a sad and abandoned-looking structure behind the customs house. She slid off the animal and paid the boy generously, sending him away when he would have waited. She climbed the step and pushed through the reed mats of the doorway into what looked to be some kind of warehouse, possibly for bananas, if the sweet smell was to be believed.

“Come in, Lady Maccon,” said a polite, slightly accented voice out of the dim echoing interior.

With a flitter of speed customary to the breed, the vampire was right up next to her, almost too close, showing his fangs.

“Good evening, Chancellor Neshi.”

“You are alone.”

“As you see.”

“Good. You will explain to me why the child isn’t working.”

“First let me see that Primrose is safe.”

“You thought I would bring her here? Oh, no, she is left behind, and she is safe. But I thought the abomination’s name was Prudence? You English and your many names.”

“It is Prudence. Did you want my daughter? You got the wrong child.”

The chancellor reeled back and blinked at her. “I did?”

“You did. You got my friend’s baby. She has not been happy about that.”

“Not the abomination?”

“Not the abomination.”

There was a long pause.

“So might we have her back, then?” Alexia asked.

The vampire went from confused, to angry, to resolved. “No. If I cannot use the abomination, I will use you. She cannot be let to suffer any longer.”

“Is this about Queen Matakara?”

“Of course.”

“Or should I say Queen Hatshepsut?”

“To use that name, you should say King Hatshepsut.”

“What does your queen want with my daughter?”

“She wants a solution. An easy solution. One that could be smuggled in and then back out with none of the others noticing. But, no, this had to be difficult. There had to be two black-haired English babies, and we got the wrong one. Now I am stuck with you.”

“I am not easy to smuggle.”

“You most certainly are not, Lady Maccon.”

“Yes, but why?”

“Come with me and you will learn why.”

“And Primrose?”

“And we will return to you the useless baby.”

He led her from the building and together they walked toward the hive.

It was a long, quiet walk through the city. Lady Maccon allowed herself to drift on that sea of absence.

Despite this, she found herself eventually thinking about Queen Matakara. Trapped in that chair, her eyes as sad as anything Alexia had ever seen or felt until now. They were the eyes of someone who wanted to die. She could sympathize.

“It’s Matakara,” she said into the silent night, stopping in her tracks.

Chancellor Neshi stopped as well.

“She set the God-Breaker Plague originally and she started it up again. She and my father.” Alexia talked out her revelations. “They struck a deal.”

The chancellor continued for her. “He broke with the OBO without telling them what he found. He agreed not to tell the Templars either. In return he got to continue the plague’s expansion with the certain knowledge that eventually it would take my queen, too.”

“Why not just bring a preternatural mummy into the room with her? Wouldn’t that work?” Alexia began walking once more.

The vampire said, exasperated, “Do you think I haven’t tried? But your father left iron orders. None of my people ever seem to be able to get to a preternatural body fast enough. It’s like they are networked. It’s like there is someone in charge who keeps an eye on all the preternaturals in the world. He won’t let me break the original agreement, even from the grave.”

Alexia wondered if Floote had done as he said and had her father’s body cremated, or if Alessandro Tarabotti was one of those who lay exposed above Hatshepsut’s Temple. “Why not simply ask me to do it? I was right there. I would have been happy to touch her.”

“Not in front of the others. They can’t know that their queen wants to die. They can’t possibly know. Done at the wrong time, they would swarm—swarm without a queen. That is not pretty, Lady Maccon. I could sneak a child in and out easily enough, but you, Lady Maccon, are not sneaky. Besides, if Lady Maccon, English, killed Queen Matakara, it would cause an international incident.”

“Why not simply stick with the plan and wait for the plague to expand? It’s already reached the edge of Alexandria.”

“The OBO found out. A concession to excavate at the temple was issued. Our time has run out. When I heard of your child, I thought she would be an easy solution. I could sneak her in and my queen would be free at last. Done quietly, before dawn, and my drone could have her back out again and no one the wiser.”

“But why you, Chancellor?”

“The queen trusts me. I am almost as old as she. I, too, am ready to die. But the others, they are young yet.”

Alexia paused again in her walking. “Is that what would happen? I didn’t know. When a queen dies, all her hive goes with her?”

“And go quietly if it is timed correctly.”

“You were willing to do that to your hive?”

“It is the pharaoh’s way. To travel with servants into the afterlife. Why shouldn’t we all die together?”

Alexia could understand what came next. He would get her in to the queen, he would arrange for her to touch Matakara, and she would die. So, too, would Alexia, as the other vampires in their pain and loss would kill her outright, and baby Primrose as well.

“Have you thought this through, Chancellor?”

“Yes.”

“You are cursing me to die with this last desperate gambit.”

“Yes.”

“You know, you could still borrow Prudence? She’s small enough to sneak in and out.”

“Too late, Lady Maccon.”

“I thought things were never too late for an immortal. Isn’t that the point? All you creatures have is time.”

Chancellor Neshi only led the way into the hive house.

Alexia followed. She couldn’t think of anything better to do.

It was much the same as before. A crowd of servants descended upon them to remove their shoes, and the chancellor went off to alert his queen as to Lady Maccon’s presence.

However, Alexia was much less welcome without her actor escort. She couldn’t understand what the other drones and vampires said to Chancellor Neshi when she appeared at the throne room entrance, but it was said very loudly and angrily.

Above them, Queen Matakara sat on and in and within her throne of blood and watched everything with tortured eyes.

Alexia inched toward her.

Chancellor Neshi went and retrieved Primrose from some hidden sanctum. The baby seemed perfectly unharmed. She waved chubby arms at Alexia, in one fist clutching a large necklace of gold and turquoise.

One of the drones noticed that Lady Maccon was moving toward his queen and launched himself at her. He was a slender fellow, but wiry and muscled, plenty strong enough to hold her.

Alexia thought of going for her parasol. She thought of diving at the queen, getting her bare hand to the woman’s exposed forehead. She thought of grabbing Primrose and running away from them all. She thought of struggling against her captor. She could probably break free; she’d had enough experience with that by now. For a proper Englishwoman, she was adept at the application of elbows and feet to delicate anatomy. She thought of doing many things, but she actually did none of them. She pushed herself back into the numbness and let it wash over her, for the first time in her life inclined to do nothing at all, to wait and see.

The arguing continued.

Then there was a tumult in the hallway and two drones brought in a struggling Madame Lefoux.

“Alexia! I thought you would be here.”

“You did? Oh.”

“It was the only logical explanation. Once I removed the idea that a vampire wants to live forever, I was left with the answer. Matakara started the plague, both times. First against the werewolves and later against the vampires and herself. And if she wanted to die that badly, she’d try to get either you or Prudence to touch her.”

“And how could you blundering in here now possibly help?” Alexia was confused but not angry. She didn’t have enough emotion left to be angry.

“I brought reinforcements.”

At which juncture a mechanical ladybug trundled into the room with Prudence riding atop it. “Mama!”

At that, Alexia did get angry. “Genevieve, what were you thinking! To bring my daughter into a hive of vampires, one of them a kidnapper who wanted her in the first place? A hive whose queen wants to die. A hive that will go mad if that happens.”

The Frenchwoman smiled. “Oh, I didn’t bring only her.”

Bustling in after Prudence came the acting troupe. The thespians wore identical expressions of seriousness and were armed with the stage swords and props of their trade. They were led by Ivy Tunstell and her husband. Ivy wore an undersized admiralty hat in white and black with a particularly large ostrich feather out the top, and Tunstell’s trousers, while tight, were made of leather for battle.

The practical part of Alexia thought that an acting troupe was hardly reinforcements against a hive of vampires.

The advent of this crowd of theatrical invaders caused a tizzy. There were colorful fabrics and people flying everywhere, as the actors employed stage fighting, tumbling, and, in the case of one young lady, ballet to dodge their opponents. There was a good deal of shouting and one operatic war cry from Mr. Tumtrinkle.

Tunstell began quoting Shakespeare. Ivy charged for her daughter, parasol wielded in a manner Alexia felt did her proud. The drone holding the infant stood with mouth slightly open for sufficiently long enough to allow Ivy to bop him hard on the head and yank her daughter away. Alexia half expected her dear friend to then faint at her own audacity, but Ivy Tunstell stood firm, child on hip, parasol at the ready. The tiny part of Alexia that was not numb was outlandishly satisfied.

With uproar continuing and the vampires and drones distracted, Alexia resumed creeping toward the hive queen. Matakara wanted to die. Matakara who had started everything. Matakara who was responsible for her husband’s death. Well, Lady Alexia Maccon would see her dead. And gladly!

Alexia made it to the base of the platform upon which the gruesome chair stood. She caught Chancellor Neshi’s eye and he nodded, encouraging her, before continuing his argument with one of the other vampires. Alexia wondered if anyone else even understood what was going on.

Just as she was about to climb up, a vampire grabbed her around the waist. He lost his strength upon contact but maintained his grip. He yanked her around and bore her down to the floor. As she fell, Alexia could see all was not going well for Madame Lefoux’s would-be invasion.

Ivy, clutching Primrose, was fending off two drones with her parasol, but soon enough their surprise at her attire would wear off and she would succumb. Gumption only got a girl so far. Tunstell had Prudence’s ladybug held high and was bashing it about. Mr. Tumtrinkle was faced off against a vampire and not doing well, as might be expected. Even all his fancy fencing tricks from Hamlet and the Overcooked Pork Pie—a Tragedy were not fast enough nor strong enough, or, quite frankly, deadly enough for an immortal.

A scream diverted Alexia’s attention. A vampire launched himself at Ivy, going for her neck. The drone attacking her fell back.

Alexia unhooked her parasol, took aim, and then realized she was out of numbing darts. She turned the middle nodule right and out popped the wooden stake at the tip. She began bashing about with it. She dared not use the lapis solaris; the acid would surely do just as much damage to one of her actor defenders.

Prudence, who had taken initial refuge from the kerfuffle under a small table, emerged at Ivy’s terrified scream. She charged the vampire attacking Mrs. Tunstell and beat at his ankle with her tiny fists. It was enough contact to turn her vampire, and him not. He was left gnawing uselessly on Ivy’s bloodied neck, and Prudence turned into a bouncing blur of excited infant with supernatural abilities. She was of very little help as she merely bucketed about, not knowing her own strength, hurling everyone aside whether vampire, drone, or actor. Behind her, Ivy crumpled to the floor, still managing to support Primrose but suffering from shock or loss of blood, or both.