Cris and Bertie resumed their seats.
“Lord Akeldama, thank you so much for joining us.”
“A pleasure, a pleasure, Bertie-my-peach. And you must be Sir Crispin?” The vampire had a way of moving his hands, fluttery and distracting, like baby birds.
“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Lord Akeldama. I’ve heard nothing but good things. Wicked, but good.” Cris opted to be as dashing and diplomatic as possible, in order to make a good impression and put the man at ease. Vampires were finicky creatures, but rumor had it that, as a rule, they favored flattery.
“All the best things are, of course, both wicked and good. Are you?” The vampire gave Cris a fanged smile.
Cris inclined his head. “Perhaps, but one ought to preserve some air of mystery upon first acquaintance. Don’t you think?”
The vampire tittered and subjected him to careful scrutiny. He seemed to approve of what he saw because a gleam entered his eyes and Cris felt as if he were one level above an extremely appealing platter of cheese.
“My, but aren’t you simply delicious.” Lord Akeldama leaned forward. “Bertie, dearest, you’ve been holding out on me. He works for you. Thus, he’s clearly innately secretive. His apparel is all grace and subtlety. Plus, he’s a knight. And he looks like a minor Greek god. Dionysus, perhaps? He should be mine.”
The vampire leaned even more towards Cris. “When you let that lovely dark hair grow, Sir Crispin, please tell me it curls?”
Cris was a little afraid the vampire might actually go for his neck. He fingered the ejection button on the deadly wooden spike that lived up his left sleeve. “Into ringlets, no less, hence my reason for keeping it short. A man of my age can’t have ringlets bouncing about. Lacks gravitas.”
“Ringlets, you say?” The vampire jerked towards him, eyes dilated.
The spike snapped out and down and Cris raised his arm fast, so the sharp piece of wood pointed at Lord Akeldama’s chin.
The vampire’s smile widened. “Oh, he definitely should be mine. You haven’t any artistic ability, have you, succulent boy? A secret penchant for the harpsichord, perhaps? A sketchbook full of salacious nudes?” His eyebrows waggled.
Crispin knew the creature was after creative talent, a sign of excess soul and the ability to survive a vampire’s bite. So, of course, Cris decided not to admit to having any artistic ability. He shook his head.
Bertie was sipping his tea and looking very bored. “Really, Lord A, you’re becoming predictable.”
The vampire reared back, seeming genuinely hurt. “Never. How cruel you are, Bertie-my-pearl.”
Bertie rolled his eyes. “Cris is nothing if not practical. He rowed and bowled for New College. He’s a sportsman, my dear sir. Outdoorsy. He’s even been known to gallivant about on horseback, even do a little bird watching on the side. Goes ambling through the woods voluntarily, breathing cold air and getting his boots muddy. He likes the countryside, Lord A. The countryside! Hopeless. Definitely not drone material.”
“Pity,” said Lord Akeldama, still looking at Crispin’s neck hungrily. “Explains why he’s so delightfully robust and rugged.” The covetous gaze moved over the rest of Crispin’s torso. Cris resisted a mad inclination to flex. It was nice to be appreciated, even if it was mostly as food.
“You box at White’s?”
“Of course.” Cris arched his brows, trying for coy. He still had the spike pointed at the vampire, though.
“Oh, put your little wooden toy away, do, stripling. I’m civilized. I’d always ask first. And clearly, you are not for me.”
Cris kept his weapon at the ready. The vampire was still tense about the eyes, and his hands were overly still. Cris never trusted a still predator.
But it took Bertie to put the nail in the proverbial coffin. “He likes women, Lord A. You know how they say – of the female inclination?”
Lord Akeldama sighed very loudly and pursed his lips. “Now that really is a pity. Can’t be influenced into experimenting?”
Now it was Crispin’s turn to roll his eyes. “I went to Eton, so clearly not.” He didn’t want to be impolite to the man, but he had no intention of being either meal or lover, and certainly not both. Sometimes even Cris had to be a touch rude to get his point across.
“Ah, well then. What a profound tragedy. So, it’s evident that you, gentlemen, can do nothing for me. What is it I can do for you? Or should I say, for the War Office?”
“For the queen!” crowed Bertie, full of pride.
“Yes, that woman.” Lord Akeldama tapped his cheek with one fine, bone-white finger.
Mrs Bagley appeared at that juncture. She had a solid looking, and appropriately dressed, young parlormaid with her.
The girl stepped forward, towards the vampire. Cris watched her demeanor carefully. He would not want her to be coerced. But she seemed genuinely eager.
“Bloody Mary, my lord?” offered Mrs Bagley.
The maid tilted her head to one side and pulled down her ruffled collar to show off her white neck.
“Are you sure, Mary?” Cris asked, even though it wasn’t his place as a guest in the house.
The maid glanced at him, not lifting her head, startled. “Oh yes, sir, it would be an honor.”
Cris nodded. So long as it really was her decision.
The vampire recoiled only slightly before recovering his equanimity. “No, thank you, dearest madame, I just ate.”
The maid looked disappointed. Mrs Bagley looked like Mrs Bagley.
Cris sheathed his spike, a little embarrassed now to have brought it out at all. Had that been too rude?
The two ladies left.
Lord Akeldama and Cris turned expectantly to Bertie.
Bertie showed his hand at last. “Baroness Ermondy, queen of the Nottingham Hive, has sequestered herself alone in—” He paused and cleared his throat. “A, erm, damp limestone cave.”
“A limestone cave, you say? How extraordinary of her. Do go on.” The vampire seemed genuinely enthralled.
Cris watched their visitor’s reactions with interest while Bertie continued.
“Her vampires are unsupervised, her household is in disarray, her servants have fled.”
“Going to Goth, is she?” Lord Akeldama’s eyes had narrowed slightly and he was very, very still. Cris suppressed the mad desire to twitch like a frightened rabbit in response.
“We believe there is a danger of Goth state, yes.” Bertie’s face was grave.
“Are they at the black velvet stage yet? I hadn’t heard of this! How have I not heard of this? Vampires going to Goth, within England proper!” Lord Akeldama rose to his feet, his hands resumed their fluttering. His outfit, Cris realized, did go very nicely with the vegetation and window arrangements of the conservatory. It might not match the door, but the vampire had dressed very well for the rest of the house.
Bertie explained, “We only learned of it recently and BUR has been keeping it under wraps. So to speak. But it appears that she has isolated herself. The hive is down to one drone and three vampires. Most, if not all, of the servants have fled. You know Lord Rashwallop died last year?”