God Save the Queen (The Immortal Empire) (22 page)

Returning here was like coming home again, and a combination of dread and elation unfurled in my stomach. I’d been back but a handful of times after my mother was taken away, and the anxiety of that memory clung to this place like the stench of a rotten tooth.

It was a long walk up the curving drive that cut through the pristine lawn with obsessive precision. Beautifully manicured trees were placed in exactly the right places so as to be aesthetically pleasing without seeming completely pretentious. An air of respectability clung to the place even though it was essentially a whorehouse – a very pricey one that was run by the Crown and open to aristocrats only, but a whorehouse nevertheless.

Some of the human children used to like to remind us of that, call our mothers vile names and talk like we were dirty and inferior to them because our mothers had been paid to have us – as
though that made their love less real. Naïve as we were, we didn’t understand how they could possibly hate us for having an entire house of maternal love and attention. I was a teenager before I realised that humans simply hated us; the circumstances surrounding our births was just a convenient excuse.

There was a black wreath on the door, its ribbons whispering in the slight breeze. The noise of the city was a muted hum, easily ignored. I was captivated by those ribbons and the lilies woven into the wreath with them. I’d never thought; the entire house was in mourning – for Dede. This was the worst time for me to show up asking questions.

I turned on my heel, prepared to sprint back the way I’d come, but the door opened and I was stopped by a familiar voice.

“I do hope you weren’t planning to leave without saying hello.”

Wiping the grimace from my face, I turned. I didn’t have to force a smile; it came readily. “Is this a bad time, Sayuri?”

Val’s mother was matron of Courtesan House. She was incredibly tiny, with smooth skin and the barest of lines around her dark eyes. She wore her thick black hair up in the Gibson style, little tendrils hanging around her fair cheeks. She looked like a Japanese doll, in a long white gown with black flowers embroidered along the hem and cuffs of its full sleeves. Her hands were clasped at her cinched waist.

Her head tilted ever so slightly over her left shoulder. “It is never a bad time to see you, child. Come inside.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I could knock her halfway to Whitby but I would never dream of defying or arguing with her.

That I loved her was a testament to just what kind of woman she was. She was human, pure and true, and I loved her regardless. I loved all the women of this house who had cared for me when I was a child, and even now as an adult. In my mind they transcended their species, as though courtesan was its own classification. I
supposed it was – in a way. Not every human had the right mutated genes to birth a half-blood child.

I jogged up the shallow steps and right into her open arms. I felt big and clumsy as I folded myself around her, but there was steel in her spine – more so than I feared there was in mine. It was easy to see why my father had chosen her to carry his firstborn, and her beauty was only part of it.

“How is Lecia?” I asked as we crossed the threshold, Sayuri’s arm around my waist.

The little woman shook her head, a firm set to her mouth. “A mother’s grief settles into the soul, tearing it into little pieces so that she will never be the same again.”

This was the Sayuri I had always known. One moment she could be sharply succinct and the next almost poetic in her verbosity. My own mouth remained silent. I was so angry at Dede in that moment for putting her own mother through this. She would argue that her mother would rather she was dead than a traitor, but I’d bet my fangs that Lecia would prefer to know that her daughter hadn’t killed herself, that she was alive.

We walked into the matron’s office. Sayuri closed the door behind us and gestured to the plush sofa. “Sit.”

I did as I was told. She rang for tea, and a few moments later I had a hot cup of Darjeeling and several sugar biscuits – the fat, soft kind that had so much flavour they made your mouth sigh with every bite.

“You didn’t come just to check on Lecia or say hello to an old friend, did you, Xandra?”

I dunked a piece of biscuit in my tea. “You were here when they took my mother away, weren’t you, Sayuri?”

She went still – even for her. It was only a moment, but I noticed it. “Yes.”

This was the first time either of us had spoken of it to each other. She had to know I’d come asking questions one day.

“Was it because she was hatters or to get rid of her?”

Sayuri shifted in her chair. This was the most discomposed I’d ever seen her. “I don’t believe I am the one you should discuss this with, Xandra.”

“If not you, then who? Not like I can ask my mother.” Of course that was a lie, but she couldn’t know that.

Sympathy flashed in her eyes, but I refused to feel guilty about it. I didn’t know if I could trust my mother or my father to tell me the truth, but Sayuri loved me, had cared for me. She was the one person I knew who was incapable of lying.

“Juliet was unwell,” she said slowly. “Leaving the house was in her best interests. It was in the best interests of everyone who lived here.”

I shook my head. “I don’t remember her being mad.”

Her dark gaze locked with mine. “I never said she was mad.”

Right, she was “unwell”. I didn’t push it, because I saw something in her eyes that stopped me: fear. She was afraid to tell me.

“What is it, Saysay?” I had the big guns out now, using the name I’d called her as a child.

She shook her head. “I made your mother a promise that I would never, ever tell you what happened. I have no intention of breaking that, whether you can speak to her or not. You’ll have to talk to your father if you want the truth.”

But would he tell me the truth? Would my mother?

“I just don’t understand the big mystery,” I confided. “All I want to know is why she was taken to Bedlam.”

The matron tilted her head as she set her cup on its saucer. “It’s been twelve years. Why now?”

Yes, smartarse, why now? I couldn’t tell her it was because dear Mama and I had been reunited. “Dede’s death has made me nostalgic, I suppose.”

More guilt stung at the softening of her features. “You poor girl. Yes, of course it makes sense. How insensitive of me.”

“You’re the least insensitive person I know,” I admitted, in one of the rare honest moments I’d had since I arrived. “I don’t want you to break your promise, no matter how much I want to know the truth. Just …” I sighed, tears suddenly burning the back of my eyes. “Just tell me it wasn’t because of me.”

I hadn’t realised just how afraid I was, how terrified the recent barrage of cryptic comments and bizarre revelations had made me – terrified that somehow I was to blame for everything awful that had happened to the people I loved. It was foolish – and the height of narcissism – but I had to own up to it if I ever wanted to get my head out of my arse.

Sayuri rose from her chair and came to me, sitting down on the sofa next to me and wrapping her slender arms around my shoulders. I sagged into the hug, embarrassing myself by actually letting the tears flow. But if I couldn’t cry in these arms, I couldn’t cry anywhere. The scent of flowers and spices enveloped me, a familiar aroma that made me think of safety and security.

“Sweet girl,” she murmured against my hair. “Of course it had nothing to do with you. She loved you. She still loves you. You are not to blame.”

I accepted that, because I needed to believe it, and it was the closest thing to the truth I was going to get.

The next afternoon, Vex kept his promise to call and asked if I wanted to meet him at Freak Show that evening for a drink and then dinner. Of course I said yes, and immediately went to my wardrobe to find what I could wear for our date.

After selecting an outfit, I tried to keep busy for the rest of the
day, but after working out, I didn’t have much to occupy my time except for my thoughts – which by now I’d established to be an exercise in self-pity.

I didn’t want to think about Dede any more. I didn’t want to think about my mother or how my life had gone arse over tits. If I had someone to spend time with – go shopping or have coffee – I wouldn’t be stuck here with nothing but my own mind to amuse me.

I didn’t have any friends, not really. Until now I’d never thought I needed any, but it would be nice to have someone I could meet for drinks or maybe go clubbing with. I used to do that kind of thing with Avery and Dede, but now Avery was practically married and Dede was a traitor.

And I still had my head up my arse.

So I returned to Dede’s to pack up the remainder of her things. The apartment was neat, but one of the boxes I’d packed before wasn’t where I had left it. Someone had been in here, poking about. Some of Dede’s Bedlam friends? It was reason to be alarmed, but I couldn’t manage much more than annoyance. I did not need this added shit. It was Dede’s problem, not mine. Cold but true.

I spent a handful of hours packing, then called a removals company and made arrangements for them to come in and take the boxes and the furniture away to storage. I’d figure out what to do with it all later.

It was time for me to go. I only had a couple of hours to get home, change, take my supps – which I’d forgotten
again
– and leave to meet Vex. I left the apartment and locked the door behind me.

In the corridor a scent assaulted me like a faceful of warm chocolate. The roof of my mouth tingled and saliva rushed over my tongue. What was that incredible smell? It was rich and earthy, with a faint salty copper tang.

Blood. It was blood. The realisation crashed over me like a wave, bringing shame and horror with it. What was wrong with me? I never used to crave blood like that – never wanted it so badly. Now twice in a matter of days I’d been overwhelmed by the need to bite and drink. It had to be stress – that was the only explanation I could think of. I pressed my forehead to the cool whitewashed wall and waited for the craving to pass, gums aching as I fought to keep my fangs from extending.

A man came up the stairs, gave me an odd look and then continued on to his own flat. It was him that I had smelled. Him that I had wanted to take a bite out of. He was fortunate that I was disgusted not only by my own desire, but by him as well, else I might have tackled him to the floor.

My knees were trembling as I made my way down to the first floor. I fished a packet of crisps out of my pocket and stuffed them into my mouth by the handful. That would take the edge off until I got home. I’d get some real food and take my supplements. I’d been too lax about taking them lately.

Once home, I took my supps, grabbed two slices of cold pizza from the fridge and devoured them while I ran a bath scented with vanilla oil. I was much more myself once I slipped into the hot, sudsy water.

Afterwards I dried off, rubbed cream into my skin, put on some make-up and pulled on snug violet trousers, white tank and black velvet corset. High-heeled black boots gave me extra height and I topped it all off with a velvet choker and leather frock coat. My hair was coiled into two artfully messy buns on either side of my head.

Oddly enough, I was a little early as I approached the entrance to the club. Just as I walked past an alleyway someone grabbed me. A very strong someone. I reached for my dagger but they pulled my arm behind my back and slammed me face first into the
side of the nearest wall. The brick scraped my cheek as I struggled.

“Why did you do it?” a voice hissed in my ear.

Ophelia? “Do what?”

She wrenched my arm higher. I ground my teeth, swallowing the grunt that desperately wanted to crawl out from between my lips. “You know what you did.”

“Honestly, sis,” I growled against the brick. “I don’t have the slightest idea of what the fuck you’re talking about.” But she was seriously pissing me off.

The pressure on my arm eased a little bit and I took advantage of her hesitation. I pushed against the wall with my free hand, shoved myself backwards and cracked the crown of my head into her face. She released my arm and I whirled around with a roundhouse to her chest, knocking her to the other wall.

Ophelia touched the back of her hand to her lip – it was bleeding. When she looked at me her eyes glowed yellow in the dim light. The wolf in her had come out to play. Shit. The predator in me responded by unsheathing my fangs, extending them from my itching gums. That bloodlust I’d felt earlier came rushing back. At least this time I understood why I felt it.