Chapter Twenty-One
Twenty-One
It didn’t take long for Phenex to arrange a meeting with his contacts. I kept the details from my superiors, despite my misgivings, because I didn’t want the government to have to be in the position of reprimanding the church.
That usually didn’t work out well, in my experience. And in the experience of all human history.
They met at a small tea shop near the Clarence, too small for Marcellus and me to go unnoticed, so we lurked outside until we saw the two black-clad gentlemen enter a few minutes after Phenex had.
We’d promised the demon not to tell the Devil of his duplicity, mostly because we did believe him to be an unwitting dupe in the scheme, which wouldn’t matter to the Devil if he was hellbent—so to speak—on retribution.
Once they’d been seated, we entered. Marcellus took a seat at the nearest table while I drew a chair up to theirs.
The two strangers looked terrified when they saw Marcellus, then relieved as they saw me.
“Good morning, sirs,” Marcellus said, using his smoothest tone. “I see you have made the acquaintance of my father’s assistant. But he doesn’t know your names. What are they?”
The two glanced at each other, and then both tried to rise but froze in midair.
“No,” Marcellus said softly. “You can’t leave.”
I could feel the pulse of his power throbbing around me and wondered when that had happened—when had I become so attuned to him that even when it wasn’t directed toward me, I could feel it?
Did being in love with someone mean that I was in sync with him? Or was it something else that came from being trained as an ombudsman?
The two men sat down again, the fear on their faces now palpable fright.
“You told someone of our whereabouts. I want to know who you told.”
The power pulsed again. It felt like a band wrapped around my head, and I winced.
“Are you all right, Miss Hastings?” Marcellus asked. I hadn’t realized he’d been paying attention to me at all.
“I am, thank you, my lord.”
“Who did you tell?” he demanded again. The band pressed harder, and I closed my eyes against the pressure.
“The archbishop, my lord,” one of the two said in a faint voice. “We don’t know why he wanted to know, my lord. We promise we don’t.”
Marcellus snorted. “Even if I were to believe that—which I don’t—I have to imagine you’d have a fairly good idea why.” He dropped his power, and I relaxed in my seat, blinking as my head returned to normal. “The question is now, what do I do with you?”
“Please, my lord, we are very sorry. We didn’t know it would cause a problem,” the other one said. They were basically indistinguishable from each other, both wearing the garb of their professions, both in their forties, both medium size and medium height.
“Your archbishop—his name?”
“Archbishop Martins,” the other one continued. Of the two, he looked more scared. Though that was like comparing white tea to Ceylon—both were delicious; it was hard to make a comparison.
“My lord, if we are to come to harm,” the first one said, showing courage I would not have expected, “that might cause some difficulty.”
Something Marcellus and I both understood well, which was why we were being so discreet in our investigations thus far.
I knew Marcellus wished he could cause some difficulty, since he’d wanted to harm these two for daring to share the details of his father’s whereabouts.
Not to mention it had resulted in the attempt on his own person as well, in the holy water–mist attack.
But by now I knew Marcellus was more of a diplomat than a demon, though his demonic side always lurked underneath.
“Well, we will see about that,” he said noncommittally.
I knew it was to keep the two of them uncertain of what he might do, but I also knew he truly couldn’t do anything, not unless someone from this realm sanctioned it.
And that would take a lot more proof and awful consequences than just an attempted assassination.
“You may go,” he said, and the two of them scrambled out of the tea shop, knocking over a few chairs in their mad rush to leave.
Only then did I realize we hadn’t gotten their names.
“You got the information you wanted, didn’t you?” Phenex said, giving Marcellus a hesitant look. “I have to—”
“I don’t want to hear another apology,” Marcellus said curtly. “You’ve done enough damage. Just go.”
Phenex nodded, leaving more leisurely than the other two but no less determinedly.
“What now?” I asked, expecting he’d want to go chase down Archbishop Martins straightaway.
“We should eat,” he said, surprising me. I guess he wanted to be well-fed before doing any chasing down.
I gestured to the server, and I placed our orders. “Two teas and a serving of biscuits, preferably with chocolate.”
“Yes, madam,” she said, then went to fetch the food.
“We pay a call on this archbishop. If it stops there, then we inform your government and let them handle it.”
“How do you suppose an archbishop was able to commission an assassin?” I mused.
He gave me an incredulous look. “Because members of the clergy couldn’t possibly know a member of the underworld?”
I flinched at my own naivete. “Of course. Never mind.”
He smiled at me, then patted my hand. “There, there. If coming to London has taught me anything, it is that you shouldn’t judge anyone based on your preconceived notions.”
“Isn’t that what I am supposed to say?” I retorted.
“We should go confront—that is, speak to this archbishop,” he said with a grin.
“Not until after tea,” I replied.
We returned to the Clarence with a plan to contact the archbishop discreetly, finding out what his plan was and who else might have been involved.
As soon as we entered, however, those plans changed.
“Marcellus!” the Devil roared as he spotted his son.
Marcellus thrust me behind his back in a surprising (for him) show of chivalry and approached his father. “Yes?”
The Devil pointed to a heap of something in the corner. It looked like a pile of rags, but I realized, on closer and more horrified inspection, that it was a being. And that it was, specifically, Phenex.
Oh dear. This was not what we wished for at all.
“Why didn’t you tell me about what he did? About the second attempt on us? The carriage incident?”
Marcellus took a breath before using his most diplomatic tone.
“Because I didn’t see the point of bothering you with it.
You are here, are you not, to enjoy the sights and sounds of London?
To partake of its various delights? The assassination attempt on you was amateurish and not worth your attention.
” He shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother you with the other thing. Miss Hastings and I handled it.”
I held my breath when he mentioned my name. If the Devil knew that his son and I were intimately involved, things could get very hot for me. Literally. I had no idea what the Devil would think of a demon/human association, but I couldn’t think it would be positive.
“You thought wrong.” The Devil strode over to the heap that was Phenex and kicked it, eliciting a faint moan.
“He came bleating to me about it, to tell me that it was an innocent conversation, that he’d only wanted to gain their trust to learn more about the world up here.
As if we need their knowledge,” he scoffed.
So after begging Marcellus not to tell his father, Phenex went and…told his father. That didn’t seem very smart. But then again, I wasn’t a demon working for the Prince of Darkness, so I couldn’t gauge what the proper employee–employer relationship should be.
“Do you want me to go to work?”
It was the first time I’d heard Keres speak. Her voice was low and resonant, and if smoke sounded like something, it would sound like her.
“Eventually,” the Devil said, at which point the Phenex heap moaned. I wanted to point out that Jirzinar hadn’t been mentioned—at least not yet—so the punishment would be light, not heavy.
“So this archbishop told the assassin where to find me, and coordinated the carriage so they could try to poison you. Where is this archbishop?” The venom dripping from his tone did not bode well for God’s servant.
At this point, I decided to try to ameliorate the situation as best I could. After all, it was my job.
“Sir, if I might,” I said, popping out from behind Marcellus, “could we take all of this up with the Queen? She would be very interested to know that one of the church’s high-ranking members is interfering with her honored guest. I presume she would not take it very kindly, and she would be grateful that you and your son were able to locate the perpetrators. ”
Marcellus had initially been scowling at me when I started to speak, but by the end his expression had eased, and I thought I saw an approving look in his eyes.
“Yes, Father, that is what I was coming to speak to you about,” Marcellus added. “I didn’t want to say anything to you about any of this until there was solid evidence, but now that you know, we should go to the Queen and see what she would like to do.”
The Devil looked thoughtful, an expression I hadn’t seen on his face before. “Hmm. If I go to her and reveal the scheme, she will have no choice but to commend my forbearance in not scorching this impertinence and instead bringing it to her attention.”
I knew “scorching this impertinence” was not a euphemism. I also knew that if he did scorch the impertinence—in other words, murder the archbishop—it would cause far more chaos than the archbishop himself likely intended.
We had to prevent that from happening.
“Maybe she will gift me a present, like one of her blood sources. I’ve heard she has two dozen of them stored at Buckingham Palace—she likely wouldn’t miss one or two.”
The nonchalant way he mentioned offering people as a present made me physically ill, but it wasn’t any different from what was practiced in other countries, so I couldn’t blame it entirely on his being from Hell.
Also, this was the first time I’d heard about the Queen’s secret stash, which made me feel even queasier.
“Set up a meeting as soon as you can,” he ordered Marcellus. “Find this archbishop and bring him as well.” His mouth curled into a wicked smile, showing all his gruesome teeth. “I want to see what he says.”
With the crisis almost averted, I felt my knees wobble, just as Marcellus took my elbow. “Are you all right?” he asked in a concerned tone.
“Fine, thank you.”
“More tea?”
I gave him a weak smile. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
He met my gaze, and what I saw in his amber eyes made my breath catch. I saw actual, real care. I wouldn’t dare call it love—I had no idea what love looked like—but it was more than infatuation. It was something.
I needed all this to be over so I could ask him how he felt, as my friends had suggested.
“It sounds as though you handled it well, Miss Hastings,” Lord Hennawi said as he took his teacup from me.
Mr. Connors wagged his tail in appreciation.
“Thank you, my lord,” I replied as I finished preparing my superior’s tea. “The Queen was most receptive to a meeting, and the archbishop will be there—it is tomorrow, since we did not want the archbishop to get word of what the meeting was about prior.”
As soon as Marcellus had learned his father, and therefore his entire entourage, knew about the plot, he sent a few of the lesser demons to track down and imprison the two churchmen who’d informed Phenex so they wouldn’t have a chance to alert Archbishop Martins about what we knew.
He’d promised me no harm would come to them, and I had to take his word.
Even though I still couldn’t entirely trust him. The fact remained that he was a demon, and he was going to be a demon, no matter how much I loved him.
“The Exhibition opens in a few days,” Lord Hennawi said, with obvious relief in his tone. “And then we will return to our ordinary business. Things will seem much duller, won’t they, Miss Hastings?”
“We’ve had a few interesting cases come in while you were assigned to this task,” Mr. Connors said. “There’s one involving some selkies and a wood sprite. I’ve managed to settle it for now, but it needs your expert touch, Miss Hastings.”
I offered a wan smile. Yes, things would be duller. A lot duller. And not in a good way—I was going to be alone and feel lonely, in a way I hadn’t realized before the Devil had arrived in London.
Unless…
But I couldn’t even think of that. It would take a lot of compromising, and if there was one thing I knew about both demons and humans, it was that neither species liked to compromise.
I just had to see where things went and be fine with the result, no matter what happened. Perhaps I would look back on this month with fond reminiscence as I made my way in life with a human partner and never had to deal with conflicting moral codes and dangerous powers.
There was something appealing about settling for safe. It sounded far less glamorous, but in the post-Revelation world, safe was far rarer than unpredictable.
“Does the Queen wish for our presence at this meeting?” Lord Hennawi asked.
“We have not gotten word, but it being so soon, I was not certain. We are fine if we are not present.” It sounded as though they would be more than fine if they were not present—likely they were anticipating, as was I, the Queen unleashing her particular kind of fury on the archbishop for his betrayal.
“I don’t think that is necessary, my lord,” I said, and my superiors’ expressions eased.
“Well,” Lord Hennawi said, placing his empty teacup back on the table, “thank you for taking such excellent care of our guests.”
Indeed I have, I thought ruefully. Such excellent care that I am already mourning their departure.
“Yes, well, it is all part of my job,” I said in what I hoped was a modest manner.
“Nobody could do it better,” Mr. Connors enthused. I gave him a grateful smile.
I was fortunate in my work; I had to keep that in mind, despite my about-to-be-broken heart.
I rose and took my departure, grateful for the excellent tea, my accommodating superiors, and my newfound ability to keep some of my true feelings hidden.
Not in that order.