Long Live the Queen (The Immortal Empire) (24 page)

I glanced out of the large window at the bank of refrigerated units along the far wall. “Maybe they were already here, waiting.” I pointed through the glass. “Could someone hide in there?”

Dr Quincy recoiled. “I think you watch too many films.”

I rolled my eyes. “Could they?”

“Yes, they could, of course, but—”

I pushed my chair back and stood up, ignoring her. I walked out of her office and sniffed.

I sneezed. The chemicals used to clean these places were murder on a sensitive sense of smell. So much bleach. I shook my head and rubbed at my tingling nose. I sniffed again. There it was – a familiar scent.

The smell led me to the refrigerator units. I opened one just right of the middle, about one down. It was empty now, but when I leaned in for a sniff, I knew who had been in it not long ago.

And I knew how she had managed to come and go undetected. I looked over my shoulder. Avery stood on the threshold of the doctor’s office, a worried frown on her face. She didn’t have to speak. I nodded, and she immediately rubbed her forehead with the ball of her hand, in exactly the same way I did. I didn’t blame her – I could have cheerfully slammed the heavy steel door on my own head several times.

Ali had been here, and if my instincts were right, she had worn the face of someone who worked here. They were getting more brazen using her in such a public way. Either she had learned to control her urges, or they had strengthened their control over her.

Either way, my father was missing and we were fucked.

It was too much to ask that the bastards who took my father would forget who I was and drop him down a Met tunnel as goblin kibble. At least then I’d know what had happened to him and be able to return his body to the funeral home. But the purpose of taking him had been to make certain no one could prove that he’d been murdered.

Because stealing a body didn’t raise suspicions at all. Fucking idiots.

Ripping him up was easy to blame on an out-of-control creature such as Ali. Poison was a bit more… personal?

I was never going to get how he died out of my mind. I don’t know how Vex was going to get it out of his carpet, or bedclothes, or curtains. My father’s blood had seeped into the walls, I’m certain of it.

It had been intentionally cruel to kill him like that. Cruel
and unnecessary. A message to sit down, shut my mouth and behave.

Right. Because that always worked so well on me.

I had accompanied Avery back to the house and had coffee with her. I think we both were a little numb, somewhat automatonic. Emma was at work, but my sister had been told to let Victoria know when she felt ready to start at the palace. The position would be held for her.

What a lovely, considerate employer the Queen was. I snorted at the thought, but kept my mouth shut. Avery was paranoid enough without me adding to it. It would be a good paying position and look good on her record. And while my sister might be a little silly at times, she was not stupid.

If Victoria was hiding Ali, Avery would find out. And unlike me, she wouldn’t charge in on her own. She’d call for backup.

After leaving Belgrave Square, I returned to my house in Mayfair – cobbleside. Let the Human League take a shot at me at the gates. Let them throw their bombs and bags of shit.

I was disappointed. There weren’t many protesters there at all. The gates were shut tight, black wreaths draped on the front in respect for my father. The sight was touching. I walked up and rang the buzzer. The humans there didn’t speak to me – didn’t utter a sound. They just stared at me. It was unsettling.

One gate opened, and an RG came out. I recognised him from the Academy.

“Morning, Ross.”

He actually bowed to me. “Your Highness. The Royal Guard sends you its deepest sympathies.”

“Thanks.” I cleared my throat of the damn lump. “You need me to give a sample?”

“Unfortunately, with this… problem running about, I do.” He offered me the small device.

I smiled half-heartedly. “Don’t worry about it. I’d rather you do it than not.” I poked my finger with the sharp, and the screen on the device immediately popped up with my proper identity displayed.

Ross removed the tip from the device and discarded it. “Have a good day, ma’am.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, Ross. Thanks, though.” I walked through the gates and slowly made the meandering trek home.

It was cold, with the smell of snow on the air. It felt… nice.

My house was empty, save for a small platter of fruit on my kitchen table. Dark ripe cherries and fat indigo grapes. The goblins had brought me their equivalent of a casserole.

Unexpected tears burned my eyes. My throat closed as my vision blurred. I sat down at the table with my head in my hands and bawled and snotted until I had nothing left inside me and I’d gone through almost an entire box of tissues.

My eyes burned like coals tossed into snow, and my head felt as heavy as a brick, but my heart… my heart was a little lighter, I think.

I went into my bedroom, changed my pumps for a pair of black boots with a sturdy hourglass heel and lacing up the outside, and snatched a hat out of my cupboard. I was already wearing black clothes as a sign of mourning, so I needed nothing else but a little concealer and mascara to make me feel more presentable.

Then I took the lift down to the platform, but I didn’t go to the den. Instead, I made my way to one of the tunnels and then made the short walk south to Buckingham Palace.

It was an uneventful walk. Had I expected ninja assassins to wait in the shadows? Did I think the tunnels would be suddenly filled in? That wasn’t likely, since they were her only escape route from the palace.

I had to be silent as I emerged cobbleside from the door at the side of the palace. I stuck my head out first to make certain there were no guards too close, and then slipped out into the early evening. The grounds were already lit – another deterrent against human invaders, but I managed to keep to the shadows tight against the base of the building. I leaped on top of a guardhouse, then up on to a windowsill – mindful of the alarm – and from there scaled my way to the roof.

When I broke into Bedlam asylum months ago while looking for Dede, I had discovered that I was a champion climber. So long as there were crevices for my fingertips and toes, I could ascend almost anything. I reckoned goblin strength had a lot to do with that, but I preferred to think that I was simply extremely talented.

I had to have
something
.

The roof of the palace had security measures as well, but those were designed to keep out humans, not someone with enough aristo blood to possess increased agility and vision. They should fix that My sensitive eyes took in the infrared scanners and pressure pads with a quick glance. Rather than walking on the roof itself, I moved along the balustrade that ran the entire perimeter of the building until I reached where I thought I needed to go.

On the front of the place, just beneath the roof, there were three large triangles made of stone. The centre one held the royal crest, while the other two each had circular windows. It
would be practically impossible for a human to get into one of these windows, given the angles and the security, but it wasn’t difficult for someone like me.

I didn’t have to break the glass, the bloody thing actually opened. Perhaps opened was the wrong term – I was
able
to open it with a bit of a tug.

I looked for sensors – none, just as I thought. I slipped into the dark interior and replaced the window.

The attic of Buckingham Palace. It should be a veritable treasure trove, but it was decidedly disappointing. Boxes, trunks, furniture – all the things you might see at your nan’s or auntie’s, and covered in the appropriate dusty shrouds. I’d probably find some interesting bits and bobs if I went looking, but that wasn’t my reason for breaking and entering, so it would have to wait for another time.

I managed to find the door, and had to break the lock in order to get out. It didn’t take much, just a sharp twist. Once I entered the deserted corridor, it was a matter of following my nose down some stairs and a little creeping along to find the right room.

I sniffed again. Smelled like she was alone. I opened the door.

“I must commend you on your stealth, Alexandra,” she said as she turned from the dressing table to face me. She was adorned in diamonds that sparkled dizzily in the lamplight. “I didn’t know you were here until I heard the knob turn.”

Was it wrong for me to be impressed with her when I suspected her of killing my father?

“I’ll be quieter in the future.”

“In the future, I would hope that you would simply call ahead, or send a note if you wish to talk.” Then her expression
changed. “I am very sorry to hear of your father’s passing. Vardan was a good man, and a good friend.”

I frowned. She sounded genuinely sorry. I stomped over to her and took a sniff. It was really her. Ali hadn’t taken her place. “Don’t play games, Victoria. It insults us both.”

Now she scowled, and rose to her feet. “Sniff me again and I will bite that keen nose of yours right off. Now, what the devil are you talking about?”

“The other night a few of us with sharp noses decided to track the laboratory escapee. Her trail led here.”

The little woman drew herself up in indignation. I hadn’t known it was possible for her spine to get any straighter. “I know that. If she came here, then she came of her own accord. I know nothing of it.”

“Really? That’s all you’re going to say?”

“There’s nothing else to say, you impertinent baggage! I’m fairly certain it would have made the news if the creature had showed up on my doorstep, or was brought here. Have you noticed the legion of press skulking by the gate?”

“They wouldn’t know a thing if you covered it up like you tried to with my father’s murder.”

Her nose lowered a bit, so she wasn’t staring so imperiously down it at me. “Your father’s death is a tragedy that affects us all, but why would I seek to conceal any of it?”

“Because he was healing until someone poisoned him.”

Her jaw dropped. “What? How?”

“With poison. That’s generally how poisoning is done.” Yes, I was being a bitch, and it felt good.

“I don’t know how you survived this long with that mouth of yours,” Victoria remarked. “What manner of poison?”

“I don’t know. It disappeared. We do, however, have another
blood sample.” I wasn’t about to tell her how we got it or where it was.

“When you know for certain, you must tell me.”

“No, I mustn’t. In case you haven’t been listening, I don’t trust you. In fact, I just accused you of having been involved in my father’s murder.”

She waved a hand at me. “You don’t believe that. Besides, Special Branch has notified us of their key suspect. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Oh, you foolish girl. That woman thinks of you less than I do.”

My heart gave a little jump. “A suspect? Who?”

“You haven’t heard?” When I shook my head, I could have sworn she said “fuck” under her breath. “Alexandra, do you never watch the news?”

“It started to feel a little narcissistic, what with how often I’m on it.”

“Well, so am I, but as queen, I still feel the need to be on top of current events.”

“Are you going to lecture me on monarch etiquette right now? Because really, I would just like to know who the fucking suspect is.”

Colour bloomed in her cheeks. “Take that tone with me again and I will disembowel you with my bare hands.”

She was full of threats today. I had no doubt she meant every one. And this time I didn’t kid myself about whether or not I could take her. She was older, crafty, and if she had spent that much time with Church, she knew how to fight.

I swallowed my annoyance, and my pride. “Would you please tell me who the suspect is?”

She didn’t pat me on the head or acknowledge my forced politeness. “Your mother.”

“What evidence?” I asked a little while later over a plate of chocolate-dipped biscuits and a floral tea that tasted divine. Food was such a driving force in my life. Victoria seemed to share the feeling, as she shovelled the biscuits away as fast as I did.

She’d dropped that little announcement about my mother and then rung for refreshments rather than elaborate. All she would tell me as I growled my frustration was that there was “evidence” against Juliet. Then she’d asked me if I liked chocolate.

Now, however, it seemed she was finally ready to enlighten me. “There was her little appearance on the chat shows a few days ago, for a start. She’s been quite vocal of late about her feelings toward the aristocracy – me in particular. Bertie told me that she looks after half-bloods who have been rescued from laboratories, and that she blames aristocrats for their deplorable physical and mental states. She apparently suspected that your father was involved with these horrible crimes. I know Vardan rang her not long before he was attacked, and that his wounds were consistent with a were attack. How much more evidence do you want?”

I paused, and the dunked bit of my biscuit broke off into my cup. Fuck. I hated finding soggy bits at the bottom of my tea. “It’s all circumstantial.” I didn’t mention that I trusted Bertie’s word about as much as I trusted Rasputin. “His body disappeared; how could any such information be determined?”