Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Just as Genevieve was setting the new hat that had arrived at Carmine House during the day on her head—a smart article in blue with cloth flowers adorning the brim, resembling nothing so much as an upside-down flowerpot—someone knocked at her door.
“Come,” she called, picking up her reticule.
Elspeth opened the door and poked her head in. “Oh, good, you’re ready. What an interesting hat.”
“Kendrick ordered it, as a surprise,” Genevieve said. “Does it look all right?”
Elspeth stepped in the room and adjusted the position of the hat a touch. “Perfect. How romantic of him.”
“He buys things and then has Fletcher present them to me like it’s a great mystery whom they’re from,” Genevieve murmured, picking up her reticule.
“I believe he bought it because it wouldn’t require a hatpin like some styles, though in the note for this one, he said that the milliner assured him the style would be all the rage soon. ”
Elspeth smiled. “It looks very well on you.”
“How is Evangeline?” Genevieve asked as they descended the stairs and made their way to the Ossuary’s entrance in the cellar. “And how are you doing?”
“Evangeline is doing well. She worries about her control around the children, but it also motivates her to learn control. Mr. Penrose helps as well.”
“And you?” Genevieve asked again, touching her arm.
Elspeth sighed. “I feel like the worst sort of jailer.”
“How so?”
“Mr. Penrose insisted we learn to locate and understand what the blood bond is like between us—what if there is some sort of pressure in these early days that causes Evangeline to lash out, and I must order her to desist? And she must also understand what it feels like to be commanded in order to divine the difference between her own will and mine. Which I understand. A weapon we don’t know how to wield will end up cutting us both.
And Evangeline gave her consent before we began.
I just hate it,” Elspeth said in a low, fervent voice.
“I feel like the monster we always thought our makers were.”
“You are nothing like them,” Genevieve told her.
“I hope not. But I don’t believe it is the natural order of things for one being to hold such sway over another.”
“I don’t believe we could describe vampirism as ‘natural,’” Genevieve said dryly.
“Exactly. I’ve had several conversations with Sparrow about this. None of us really know how vampires came to be, but she thinks that it’s a twisting, a corruption of humanity. I’m inclined to believe her.”
“Some sort of attempt to preserve life gone horribly wrong?”
“Or a rejection of what lies after death. I don’t know. But do we bear the burden of that rejection? Do we carry that sin?”
Genevieve’s throat closed.
“I’m going to introduce Sparrow to Evangeline,” Elspeth continued. “I think they’d have some interesting conversations.”
“Good idea,” Genevieve managed.
When they made their way to the area that they had converted into a distribution point for the goods and services they were trying to disperse about the underground, they found Sparrow already there behind a long, wooden table used to set out goods, in a heated discussion with a man Genevieve recognized but whose name she didn’t know.
He wore a patched coat and a belligerent expression as he used his height to loom over Sparrow.
Five similarly dressed toughs backed him up as waiting vampires watched warily from the sidelines.
He was one of many underground. Every few months, an enterprising soul would chafe against their maker’s and the Ossuary’s restrictions and, in an effort to kick against the pricks, would form a gang to provide protection and exert influence on all the other vampires penned up by their makers.
It would inevitably decline as their behavior devolved into bullying and the underlings rebelled or a rival gang formed.
Eventually, two opposing forces would confront each other and leave each other bloody or dead.
Or their makers would step in and lay commands on all involved.
Genevieve had always made it a priority to stay out of the way of those types.
Often she had used her talent to advise those in harm’s way to relocate out of a particular area of “turf” or to be wary of a particular vampire.
She felt a moment’s urge to go unseen, instinct in the face of danger.
But she squared her shoulders instead and approached with Elspeth at her side.
“What is all this?”
The man spun around to face her, hands on his hips. A scuffed bowler covered his head, pulled low over his eyes. Based on the scowl on his craggy face, he looked like what Fletcher would have described as a “hard man.”
That, or “bent as a nine-bob note.”
“This gentleman believes he should have a larger share of goods than anyone else,” Sparrow said, mouth pursed.
“And why is that, Mister…?”
“Name’s Barrett,” the man said, scowling in Genevieve’s direction.
“This here’s my patch. I’m collecting for those what live on my patch.
And what’s with holding the rest of the goods in reserve, missy?
That’s a load of bollocks. Ain’t we good enough to warrant it? ” He puffed himself up like a bantam.
A hiss from the onlookers. “That’s the lady, that is,” someone said.
Genevieve held up a hand. “I do understand the trouble, Mr. Barrett. We have not precisely nailed down the new titles for the rulers of the Ossuary. However.” Her voice dropped into frigid territory. “I have never been, nor will I ever be, a ‘missy.’”
His lip curled. “Missus, then. I still need the shares for those on my patch. A hundred of ’em.” He stabbed a thick finger into the top of the table.
“And their names?” Genevieve said.
He reared back. “Names?”
“Yes, names,” she said, enunciating sharply. “All one hundred of them.”
“Don’t have to give you their names.”
“If you claimed them as dependents, you absolutely would, Mr. Barrett, but as it stands, you cannot request a portion for a dependent. They must come themselves and put down their name to receive a share, as these good people are prepared to do.” She continued, “Everyone receives one bedroll and a certain amount in cash to purchase clothing at a secondhand shop or to hire one of our new tailors. All other goods are in reserve for those who wish to set up a business and have a proposal for said business. There are no ‘patches’ in the Ossuary anymore.”
Mr. Barrett bared his fangs at her and took a step forward. “You don’t want to cross me.”
“No, Mr. Barrett,” Genevieve said, eyes flashing.
“You don’t want to cross me. The Ossuary is changing.
Bullies who engage in petty turf wars no longer hold sway.
” Aware of the eyes on her, she let her voice carry as she said, “We are very interested when we hear reports of exploitation, and those reports will be investigated, and they will be judged. Do not test me, Mr. Barrett.”
Barrett and his cronies looked around, weighing their odds. After all, there were six of them against three women. But the vampire onlookers were an unknown—and they were drifting away from them, leaving a conspicuous empty space around the toughs.
Genevieve narrowed her eyes. “I’ll give you a choice, Mr. Barrett.
You can abide by the old way or the new way.
According to the new way, you abide by the laws, you reside in harmony with your neighbors, you refrain from killing or turning humans, and we endeavor to make everyone’s existence fulfilling and profitable. ”
He sneered. “And according to the old way?”
“According to the old way, you insult my wife, and I cut your head off, and no one blinks an eye,” Kendrick said. He appeared behind the knot of men, his sword slung over his shoulder and a stony look on his face.
The men jumped, pivoting to face him. He eyed them all with his yellow gaze. “Choose carefully.” He gestured between himself and Genevieve.
Barrett licked his lips. His eyes flicked back and forth, like a rat looking for an exit.
The slow stream of workers coming up behind Kendrick carrying building materials and tools turned the tide.
Barrett scowled and spat, abandoning the table and distribution point entirely. He stalked away with his bully boys hurrying after him.
“Good choice,” Kendrick rumbled. “If anyone would like to earn a night’s wages, we’re going to be shoring up sections of the Ossuary. If you’re interested, sign up with Marshall Cutter and follow me.”
As he passed by Genevieve, he shot her a quick smile.
“‘And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed,’” Genevieve murmured to herself towards the end of the night.
She and Sparrow had decided to bring their census to the eastern warrens of the Ossuary, which were farthest from the social center and probably had received the least information regarding their changes.
Sparrow shifted the basket on her arm. “‘And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth into Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem: because he was of the house and family of David, to be enrolled with Mary, his espoused wife, who was with child.’”
Genevieve smiled fleetingly, a bittersweet melancholy in its wake.
There were so many more people pressed into the alcoves and corners of the underground tunnels than was healthy or safe.
They had been sharing small comforts like candles and mending kits and spreading news of the available goods one could acquire as part of the census, as well as the industries vampires could apply for.
Some vampires they spoke to were overawed and shocked at the barest extension of kindness.
Others scoffed and sneered like Mr. Barrett and his ilk.
All the things Genevieve had feared—but no one offered them blatant disrespect.
For every scoffer, there was someone else to rebuke the naysayer and tip their hats or curtsey to her and Sparrow.