Chancellor Neshi stepped forward, slowly and with empty hands held up in supplication. “Please, Lord Maccon, we are unused to such antics.”
Conall only growled, low and furious.
If Alexia had expected an apology at that juncture, she was sorely disappointed. The man, showing not insignificant bravery, only inched closer and gestured the wolf toward the door like a porter. “This way, my lord. We thank you for your visit.”
Taking that as a statement of permission, Alexia turned and strode from the room with all haste. No sense in dawdling where one was unwanted. After a moment’s hesitation, Conall followed.
Prudence struggled mightily in her mother’s arm, but Alexia had had enough of that for one night and gripped her tightly.
The infant cried out, “No! Mama, no. Poor Dama!” in her high treble and strained back to the room.
Feeling her daughter’s attention shift and possessed by the same compulsion, Alexia paused and turned to look back. The hive vampires stood in a huddle before their mistress, but the dais raised Queen Matakara high enough for Alexia’s eyes to meet those of the vampire queen above the crowd. Alexia was struck once again by the profound unhappiness there and by the belief that Matakara wanted something of her, wanted it enough to bring her all the way to Egypt. How can I help you with anything? Alexia felt a tug at her dress and saw Conall had his teeth firm about her hem and was tugging her into motion. She did as she was bid.
Chancellor Neshi had to jog to catch up. After a moment’s thoughtful regard, the vampire directed his conversation at Alexia, rather than her now-hairy husband. As if nothing unbecoming had happened, he inquired politely, “May we offer you some coffee before you leave?” They walked down the cold stone stairs to the entrance.
“No thank you,” responded Alexia politely. “I think we had better depart.”
“Mama, Mama!”
“Yes, my dear?”
Prudence took a deep breath and then said slowly and carefully, “Mama, get her out.”
Alexia looked to her daughter in startlement. “Are we speaking in complete sentences now, Prudence?”
Prudence narrowed her eyes at her mother suspiciously. “No.”
“Ah, well, still, that is an interesting theory. Trapped, you think. Against her will? I suppose anything is possible.”
Biffy and Lyall spent that night much as though nothing of significance had happened in the previous one. They met with Lady Kingair and proceeded with the investigation as if there had been no fight, no life-altering decision, and no beginnings of a romance.
Lady Kingair sniffed and then glared at the two men suspiciously when they entered the room, but apart from that, made no comment about any change in state. If she noticed they were more relaxed around one another or the little touches they sometimes exchanged without quite realizing, she made no comment.
Biffy was sure Floote knew, because Floote always seemed to know such things. The butler attended to their requirements with the same solicitous efficiency as always. Perhaps more so, as it seemed that without Lady Maccon’s demands to occupy his time and attention, he was ever on hand to help them with anything they might need.
Lyall spent his time looking over all the evidence they had gathered on the owners of private dirigibles in London. He compared these to political and tradesmen’s concerns in Egypt but was unable to come up with any connections. Lady Kingair delved into the manufacture and distribution of sundowner bullets, trying to determine who might have access and why, but this also seemed fruitless. Biffy concentrated his efforts on Egypt and what Dubh might have found there. The man had clearly been inside the God-Breaker Plague zone to have emerged so weakened. Biffy gathered together passenger manifests on trains and steamers out of Egypt, attempting to access baggage information on the theory that, due to his emaciated state, Dubh must have been traveling in the company of at least part of a preternatural mummy on the voyage home. He must have disposed of it, or it had been stolen, as no supernatural creature in London had experienced ill effects upon his return.
Biffy was not one to get easily distracted, but after several hours immersed in manifests of one kind or another, he found himself drawn into an obscure treatise on the nature of the God-Breaker Plague written some fifty years ago. That, in turn, referenced a different report from the very first antiquities expeditions some hundred and twenty or so years prior. Something in the two documents struck him as odd, though he could not pinpoint the particulars. This sent him into a flurry of activity, pulling books on Egypt down from the library and sending Floote off to collect reports from the foreign office on the subject. The God-Breaker Plague was of peculiarly little interest to daylight folk and of particular secrecy to vampires and werewolves, so there was very little substantial information.
“Biffy, I don’t mean to disturb your readings, but you appear to be getting a tad distracted from our original objective.”
Biffy looked up at his Beta, rubbing his eyes blearily. “Mmm?”
“You seem to be delving further and further back in time. Away from our murder investigation. Are you tracking something of relevance?”
“There is something peculiar going on with this plague.”
“You mean aside from the fact that it exists at all, a pestilence of unmaking affecting only supernatural folk?”
“Yes.”
“What, exactly, are you on to, my boy?” Lyall crouched down next to Biffy, where he sat on the floor, surrounded by books and manuscripts.
Lady Kingair looked up from her own papers.
Biffy pointed at a line in one of the older texts. “Look here, one hundred and twenty years ago, reports of the plague being situated as far as Cairo. See here, particular mention of the pyramids being clean.”
Lyall tilted his head, a sign Biffy was to continue.
“And here, a similar mention. No one seems interested in charting the exact extent of the plague, possibly because it would take a werewolf interested in scientific investigation, and willing to turn mortal on a regular basis as he walked through the desert. But so far as I can tell, fifty years ago, the God-Breaker Plague stretched from Aswan to, still, Cairo.”
“Well?”
Biffy shook out a map of the Nile River Valley. “Taking into account topography and allowing water features and territory markers, much as werewolves and vampires do themselves, the plague would have extended like so.” He drew a loose circle on the map with a stick of graphite. “So far as I can tell, the initial extent, here, remained fixed for thousands of years, ever since werewolves were divested of their rule and the plague began.”
Lyall bent over the map, intrigued. “So what has you worried? This all seems to be as the howlers sing it. Ramses, the last pharaoh, who lost the ability to change and became old and toothless because of the God-Breaker Plague.”
“Yes, except sometime after this last report, the one dated 1824, it moved.”
“What! What moved?”
“Well, perhaps not moved. Perhaps expanded is a better word. Look at the more recent reports on the plague BUR got hold of, dated a few decades ago. Admittedly they come out of the Alexandria Hive and one loner wolf who braved the desert out of some kind of religious fervor. But I would say, at a conservative guess, that the God-Breaker Plague has expanded some one hundred miles in the last fifty years.” Biffy drew a second larger circle on his map. “Here. It now includes Siwah and Damanhúr and stretches all the way to the outskirts of Alexandria.”
“What!”
“Something happened five decades ago that caused the plague to start up again.”
“This is not good,” stated Professor Lyall baldly.
“You think our Dubh might have been carrying this information back to us?” wondered Lady Kingair.