8. The Enemy of My Enemy
THE ENEMY OF MY ENEMY
Irene
In the carriage as Alex, Darius, and I rode to Whitechapel, Alex held my hand, and for the first time since he’d made the pact with Cara, I relaxed next to him.
He drew slow circles over my wrist with his thumb, and I focused on our bond.
It was muted and tense. Was it because of me?
Was I so nervous that the bond stiffened?
The silver dagger in my bag seemed to weigh a tonne.
Not that I would ever be able to hurt him seriously, but I’d been abused and attacked by my former betrothed, and Alex was so strong.
Vampires were sensitive to silver. A tiny cut burnt their skin.
I wouldn’t need to… Heavens. Was I truly thinking of protecting myself from him?
I swallowed past the knot in my throat. The bond had never lied. Something was deeply wrong with Alex.
He laced his fingers through mine, but he remained tense, hiding his hand under the cloak when the sunlight poured through the window. He was also wearing a scarf and a brimmed hat. His neck-cloth covered his throat fully.
“Does the sunlight bother you?” Darius studied him with interest.
Alex squinted. “It has always bothered me.”
“But now more than before?”
“The sun is strong today.”
Darius closed the ever-present magic book he was reading. “It’s March, and this is London. The only strong things here are tea and annoyance when someone jumps a queue.”
Alex squeezed my fingers. “Please, Darius. I’m fine.”
“I hope you are because if you aren’t fine, I’m not sure I can make you feel fine.” Darius resumed reading, but his aura was troubled with steel-grey light rushing through it—worry.
When the carriage stopped at the kerb in front of the mortuary, Alex exited first and offered me his palm, beaming. The tension was gone. His eagerness to help me out of the carriage was irresistible, and I slid my hand into his.
An air of triumph brightened his face. “Isn’t it a fine day? I’ve never felt so free and light.”
My chest tightened for him. His fear had been sheer torture. He had to be so relieved, but I didn’t trust Carabosse or the tension in our bond.
He put on a pair of leather gloves and stepped into the shadows. “Are you sure you want to come?” He caressed my cheek, and a sigh escaped my lips.
“Yes, I am.” I didn’t look forward to seeing dead people, but I didn’t want special treatment either.
The mortuary was an imposing building with bars on the tall windows and walls of sad grey bricks. A heavy-looking set of double doors guarded the entrance, and the front steps had been scrubbed to a polish compared to the walls. I wondered what they’d had to clean them up from.
Hands in his pockets, Darius walked past the front door and beckoned us to follow him. He knocked on the anonymous rear door, and a man in a dark suit and a bowler hat opened it. His aura glowed with a steel-grey light. Worry dominated his feelings and pinched my chest.
“Ravenhill. Strange.” The man beckoned us inside. “Madam.”
“Inspector Talbot, always a pleasure.” Darius crossed the doorstep with a quick leap.
The man hesitated, drumming his fingers on the frame. “Doesn’t Ravenhill need a proper invitation to enter the mortuary?”
“Only to enter private houses,” Alex said. “This is a public place.”
The inspector didn’t look pleased. “Well, anyway, Ravenhill, you’re welcome in the mortuary.”
“Now there’s a sentence you don’t hear often.” Alex entered after me.
“Miss Harlowe, this is Inspector Talbot,” Darius introduced me. “You’ve met his wife, Mrs. Talbot. She’s following Rothbart’s case.”
I’d briefly met Mrs. Talbot a while ago, but I remembered the clever witch who took risks to stop supernatural beings like Rothbart.
The inspector gave me a quick nod. “We don’t have much time.” The inspector gazed around the empty passageway. The worry in his halo intensified. “The surgeon will be back in twenty minutes.”
The corridor smelt of chloride of lime and something else pungent. The inspector pushed open a set of double doors.
A Lister machine rumbled softly in a corner, spraying carbolic acid into the air.
The disinfectant formed a mist hanging in the wide room with a soaring ceiling.
Light poured in from the floor-to-ceiling windows without cheering up the place.
The three-foot-wide walls kept the noise of traffic out, which gave me the unpleasant feeling of being underground.
I paused on the threshold at the sight of the rows of tables with bodies on them, covered with white blankets.
I gazed away. “Goodness.”
Alex took my hand gently and rubbed my knuckles. “If it’s too much, we can leave.”
“No. I’m fine.”
He avoided the sunlight and kept to the shadows. It wasn’t anything unusual, but his aversion to sunlight had increased quickly, and when he brushed past the sunny patch, the bond strained painfully.
“These three are the bloodless victims.” The inspector pulled down the blankets on the last three bodies in the room.
“The pathologists are puzzled. They can’t agree on anything.
One believes it was a wild animal. Another one thinks the men died from a new type of influenza or pox.
I hope they don’t declare an emergency and lock down the city. ”
I braced myself for a gruesome sight, but aside from pale faces, there wasn’t much to see.
The inspector tilted the head of one of the bodies, showing us the marks left by the rogue.
Several round wounds marred the men’s necks.
“As you can see, these marks are on all three bodies. It’s the first time I’ve seen such wounds, but my wife thinks they are vampire bites, and she knows more than I do on supernatural matters. ”
“They are indeed vampire bites.” Darius got a closer look. “All the wounds have the same width and depth. I would say they’re from the same vampire, which is a small comfort. At least there aren’t many vampires at large killing humans.”
I’d been bitten by Alex, and it’d been the most exciting experience of my life, but seeing the marks of a vampire’s teeth on a dead body was a different experience.
I touched my neck. “But Alex doesn’t leave any marks when he feeds. Why would a vampire leave them, knowing they would give him away?”
“Because I believe this is a rogue vampire.” Darius scribbled in his notebook, glancing at the corpses. “Rogue vampires lose the ability to heal wounds. Healing is an act of kindness, and rogue vampires are anything but kind.”
Alex frowned. “My sire left the marks of his bite on my neck as well.”
Darius kept scribbling. “He must have lost his healing ability, too.” He stopped writing. “He had to be a rogue, or on his way to becoming one. Interesting, considering your sire is a four-hundred-year-old vampire. Perhaps age has a slowing effect on a vampire turning rogue.”
“So it’s true.” The inspector’s voice quivered. “There’s a rogue vampire in London.”
“I believe there is,” Darius said in a grave tone. “There are different levels of danger when it comes to a rogue. New rogues are less dangerous than vampires who have been rogues for longer. They lose control completely. There’s hope this vampire hasn’t been a rogue for long.”
“Hope?” Inspector Talbot pushed up his bowler hat. “How can you tell?”
Darius took more notes. “A very dangerous rogue, in his last stage of depravity, would kill hundreds of people in a few hours.”
A chill made me shiver. Hundreds.
Alex examined the men’s faces closely. “I know these men.”
Darius showed a troubled expression, mirrored in the turbulence in his aura. Dozens of tendrils crossed it. “You’re right. They were members of Rothbart’s gang.”
The inspector’s concern pulsated sepia around him.
A muscle in Alex’s jaw twitched. “Where were they found?”
“In the same room, in a small gambling den in Whitechapel,” the inspector said. “They were still sitting on their chairs, cards and drinks in front of them, which makes me think the attack arrived so quickly they hadn’t had time to stand up or react.”
“That confirms it’s a rogue,” Darius said. “Only rogues drain their victims and kill more than once in a row.”
“It’s not a coincidence.” Alex covered the bodies. “A vampire is targeting Rothbart’s thugs. He might not be a rogue after all, just someone with a grudge.”
Darius stopped writing. “The question is why.”
“Why? Rothbart is ruthless and has many enemies.” Alex shrugged. “He has one too many.”
Darius cradled his chin. “They were killed at the same time, almost instantly. Only rogue vampires are that quick, lethal, and precise.”
The inspector gazed from the bodies to Alex. “Isn’t it the same for regular vampires?”
“No, it isn’t,” Darius said. “Rogues lose some abilities, like their healing powers or tolerance for sunlight, and acquire others. More lethal.”
Something bothered Alex because the bond gave a twitch.
“Yes, but is this rogue our friend or not?” I asked.
“Who knows?” Alex said in a low tone.
The inspector led us to the exit, his aura a riot of tendrils. “What can I do to keep my family safe?”
Darius clapped his shoulder. “Keep religious symbols close, holy water, and blessed wooden stakes. Don’t go out after sunset and don’t invite anyone into your home.”
It wasn’t much, and the inspector didn’t seem relieved.
“What are you thinking?” I took Alex’s arm as we headed to the carriage. I doubted the deal with Carabosse wouldn’t have consequences, but I had to admit the simple pleasure of taking his arm was comforting.
He smiled at my hand on his arm. “If a rogue is killing thugs in Whitechapel, I won’t interfere. He has my blessing.”
“You must be joking.” Darius scowled. “You’re the Duke of the Dark Court. It’s your responsibility to take care of dangerous supernatural creatures preying on innocents.”
“Precisely. Those men weren’t innocents. And the killings happened close to Knight’s territory. He’s the Moon Duke. He should deal with the rogue.”
I exchanged a glance with Darius. Alex would never leave Knight alone to deal with a rogue vampire, knowing that the Moon Court wasn’t as strong and wealthy as the Dark Court. His lack of care was concerning.
Darius faced him, stopping a couple of feet from him.
“What about the Fair Court? The Fair Duchess was clear. She will intervene if the affairs in the Dark Court and the Moon Court aren’t in order.
If she gets news of a rogue vampire roaming unchallenged in the Moon Court and killing at will, she’ll declare you and Knight incapable of leading the courts and take charge of both of them. So yes. The rogue is our problem, too.”
The duchess was the oldest and most powerful supernatural being in the kingdom. If she wanted, she could rule all the courts at the same time.
“Darius is right.” I gave Alex’s arm a little tug. “Besides, what will happen when the rogue gets tired of killing thugs? He’ll start biting everyone.”
He pulled down his tall hat to cast a shadow over his face. “We’ll take care of that problem when it presents itself.”
That wasn’t him.
Darius glowered. “You’ll wait for innocents to die before intervening?”
“Am I supposed to protect the thugs who beat you and me within an inch of our lives, set fire to Irene’s house, killed her father, and did the same thing to others?” He sounded frustrated and even hurt, as if he was shocked we wanted to stop the rogue.
He wasn’t entirely wrong. Rothbart’s gang had changed through the years—different members and criminal operations—but their core had stayed the same—causing havoc and killing at will.
I cleared my throat. “But we should plan a strategy to find and catch the rogue anyway. I suppose it’s not going to be easy to stop a vampire who can kill three men at the same time.”
He worked his jaw. “Yes, it’s going to be difficult.” He stiffened, sniffing the air. His power came out, and his eyes darkened.
“What is it?” Darius searched the alley.
“Werewolves.”
I was puzzled. What was upsetting about that? “We’re in the Moon Court. Since when does the presence of werewolves bother you so much as to cause your power to come out?”
“I’m on edge.”
The bond tensing confirmed that.
We took a dark alley to shield Alex from the sun when Knight strode towards us, flanked by two of his werewolves.
Knight’s deep shade of amber eyes and massive build never failed to unnerve me. Graves was shorter and had lighter colours and was less brawny too.
Alex had told me Graves and Knight belonged to two different werewolf clans. Knight came from a clan of warriors, the Molossians. Instead, Graves belonged to a clan, the Argos, that valued the unity of the pack over everything else.
Knight’s aura glowed with a mahogany light, but underneath this layer of determination, worry shone steel-grey.
Alex was high strung. Darius was the only one who kept smiling. I wasn’t surprised Knight had found us so easily. His werewolves controlled part of Whitechapel and were aware of anyone who came and went. Or should be.
“Ravenhill, Strange, Miss Harlowe.” Knight’s deep scar, running from his left ear to his chin, added a layer of menace to his persona.
“Knight.” Alex nodded. “We were just leaving. We went to the mortuary to take a look at the three men killed by a vampire.”
Shock flamed burgundy in Knight’s aura. “Was it a vampire?”
Alex cocked an eyebrow. “You had no idea. You found us quickly, yet none of your werewolves was aware of a vampire killing at will close to your territory.”
Knight’s shock turned into burnt orange shame. He regained his composure. “You can’t leave now. I need to show you something.” He flipped his fingers, signalling we had to follow him. His commanding tone didn’t escape Alex’s notice, who clenched his jaw.
“You don’t give me orders, Knight.” The tips of Alex’s fangs made an appearance.
“It’s urgent.” Knight’s tone became stern and left no room for argument.
But Alex might have a different opinion.