Changeless

the entire passage home.”

“Yes, Major Channing mentioned something of the kind. Although the Woolsey Pack had returned to supernatural normalcy by the time they reached the castle.”

“And what do we think of Major Channing?”

“We try not to think on that repulsive individual at all.”

Lord Akeldama laughed, and a handsome young butler entered with the tea tray. “You know, I once tried to recruit him, decades ago.”

“Did you really?” Lady Maccon could not countenance the idea; for one thing, she did not believe Major Channing leaned in Lord Akeldama’s direction, although there were rumors about military men.

“He was a splendid sculptor before he turned. Did you know? We all knew he had a good chance of having excess soul; vampires and werewolves were vying to be his patron. Such a sweet young talented thing.”

“We are discussing the same Major Channing, are we not?”

“He rebuffed me and went into soldiering, thought it more romantic. Eventually, he was converted to the fuzzy side of the supernatural during the Napoleonic war.”

Alexia was not clear on what to make of this information. So she returned to the original topic. “If it is a weapon, I must find where it has gone. Lyall said it was headed north, and we believe it to be going by coach. The question is, where, and who is carrying it?”

“And what exactly is it?” added the vampire, pouring the tea. Lady Maccon took hers with milk and a little sugar. He took his with a dash of blood and a squeeze of lemon.

“Well, if Professor Lyall claims it is heading northward, then northward it is. Your husband’s Beta is never wrong.” There was an odd tone in Lord Akeldama’s voice. Alexia looked at him sharply. He added only, “When?”

“Just before I came here.”

“No, no, primrose. I mean, when did it begin to move northward?” He passed a small plate of some excellent biscuits, declining the comestibles himself.

Lady Maccon did some quick calculations. “Seems like it would have had to depart London late yesterday evening or early this morning.”

“Just as the humanization in London stopped?”

“Precisely.”

“So what we need to know is what regiments, or packs, or individuals came in on the Spanker, then proceeded north yesterday morning.”

Lady Maccon had a sinking feeling all fingers were about to point in one particular direction. “I place great confidence in the fact that Professor Lyall is already hunting down just that information.”

“But you already have a good idea of who the perpetrators might be, don’t you, my little periwinkle?” Lord Akeldama stopped relaxing back into the love seat and tilted forward to peer at her through his monocle.

Lady Maccon sighed. “Call it instinct.”

The vampire smiled, showing his two long fangs, pointed and strikingly lethal. “Ah, yes, your preternatural ancestors were hunters for generations, sugardrop.” Delicacy did not permit him to remind her that they hunted vampires.

“Oh no, not that kind of instinct.”

“Oh?”

“Perhaps instead I should say ‘wifely intuition.’ ”

“Ah.” Lord Akeldama’s smile widened. “You believe your oversized husband to be connected to the weapon?”

Lady Maccon frowned and nibbled a biscuit. “No, not exactly, but where my dear spouse goes…” She trailed off.

“You think this whole thing may be connected to his visiting Scotland?”

Alexia sipped her tea and remained silent.

“You think this has something to do with the Kingair Pack losing their Alpha?”

Alexia started. She did not realize that little fact was common knowledge. How did Lord Akeldama come by his information so quickly? It was really remarkable. If only the Crown could be so efficient. Or BUR for that matter.

“A pack without an Alpha can behave badly, but on this kind of scale? You think—”

Lady Maccon interrupted her friend. “I think Lady Maccon may suddenly feel quite oppressed by the dirty London air. I think Lady Maccon may have need of a vacation. Perhaps to the north? I hear Scotland is lovely this time of year.”

“Are you barmy? Scotland is wholly abysmal this time of year.”

“Indeed, why would one wish to travel there, especially with the trains down?” This was a new voice, tinged with a very faint French accent.

Madame Lefoux had not forgone her men’s garb, although she had formalized it for visiting, changing her colorful cravat for one of white lawn and her brown top hat for a black one.

“Lady Maccon fancies herself in need of air,” replied Lord Akeldama, rising and going forward to greet his new guest. “Madame Lefoux, I presume?”

Alexia blushed at not having jumped in to make proper introductions, but the other two seemed to have matters well in hand.

“How do you do? Lord Akeldama? A pleasure to make your acquaintance at last. I have heard much of your charms.” The inventor gave the vampire’s startling black and white shoes and smoking jacket an intent look.

“And I yours,” replied the vampire, casting an equally critical eye to the inventor’s stylish masculine garb.

Alexia noted a certain undercurrent of wariness, as though they were two vultures circling the same carcass.

“Well, there is no accounting for taste,” said the Frenchwoman softly. Lord Akeldama appeared about to take offense, but the lady added, turning slightly to the side, “Scotland, Lady Maccon, are you certain?”

A flash of wary approval crossed the vampire’s face at that. “Do sit,” he offered. “You smell divine by the way. Vanilla? A lovely scent. And so very feminine.”

Was that a return jibe? wondered Alexia.

Madame Lefoux accepted a cup of tea and sat on another little settee, next to the relocated calico cat. The cat clearly believed Madame Lefoux was there to provide chin scratches. Madame Lefoux provided.

“Scotland,” replied Lady Maccon firmly. “By dirigible, I think. I shall make the arrangements directly and depart tomorrow.”

“You shall find that difficult. Giffard’s is not open to nighttime clientele.”

Lady Maccon nodded her understanding. Dirigibles catered to daylight folk, not the supernatural set. Vampires could not ride them, as they flew too high out of territory range. Ghosts were usually inconveniently tethered. And werewolves did not like to float—prone to terrible airsickness, her husband had explained the first and only time she intimated interest in such a mode of transport.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” she amended, “but let us talk of more pleasant things. Lord Akeldama, are you interested in hearing about some of Madame Lefoux’s inventions?”

“Indeed.”

Madame Lefoux described several of her more recent devices. Despite his old-fashioned house, Lord Akeldama was fascinated with modern technological developments.

“Alexia has shown me her new parasol. You do impressive work. You are not seeking a patron?” he asked after some quarter of an hour’s talk, clearly impressed with the Frenchwoman’s intelligence, if nothing else.

Understanding fully the unspoken code, the inventor shook her head. Given Madame Lefoux’s appearance and skills, Alexia was in no doubt she had received offers of a similar nature in the past. “Thank you kindly, my lord. You