Imprudence (26 page)

Rue frowned. “How much longer?”

“I don't know. Genevieve used one similar on her aunt, but that was decades ago. I'm sure both she and her son have made extensive improvements since then. It's possible it could hold a ghost interminably.”

Rue let out a sharp breath. “Useful little jobbie.”

“Very useful. The question is, why do the Lefouxs think such a thing needed in Egypt?”

Rue nodded. “Yes, that is the question, isn't it? Thank you for telling me, Mother.”

Lady Maccon looked almost sympathetic. “I take it that he didn't tell you?”

Rue wasn't going to give her mother that kind of insight into her relationship. So she smiled at her without commenting further.

Percy returned and they made their final goodbyes.

Once free of the hotel, Primrose took Rue's arm, pulling her close for private consultation.

“What was that about a ghost holder?”

Rue felt her skin prick, even though it was a hot afternoon. “Someone is going to die and Quesnel knows who it is.”

“And he never told you?”

“He never told me.”

Prim looked even more upset than Rue. “You don't think he intends to kill someone and stick them in there, do you?”

Rue winced. “The fact that he has been so secretive certainly doesn't bode well. Although we do have one advantage.”

“What's that?”

“There a good chance he's forgotten that one of a metanatural's
other
skill sets is exorcism.”

Percy bounced up and insinuated himself between the swishing skirts of the two ladies, taking their arms in his, in a crude imitation of a gallant escort.

“Percy, really, what has got into you? You're bubbly. It's horrid.” Primrose was sharp in her exasperation.

Percy didn't notice. “Lord Maccon had a letter for me, and a few bits of other post. I had my club send it on to Shepheard's just in case. It beat us here.”

Rue took offence on the
Custard
's behalf. “We've the fastest ship in the skies!”

Percy shrugged. “Post doesn't have to clear quarantine. Anyway, look at this!” He flapped a pamphlet against his sister's skirt. Rue realised he had been holding it the whole time.

“So tell us about it. We aren't going to stop in the middle of a public thoroughfare to
read.
” Prim tried to limit her encouragement, but she did love her brother.

It was nice to see Percy animated about something, Rue thought. But she wasn't really listening to him. She was thinking about the ghost holder. She and Quesnel were already estranged; now she was questioning ever trusting him at all. Thank goodness she hadn't allowed herself the luxury of falling in love. She was upset because, as his captain, he should have told her the tank's true function. Not for any other reason. Of course, not for any other reason at all.

Percy crowed. “
This
is a copy of a recent Royal Society Bulletin in which it is announced that my paper has been accepted and will soon be published. I shall be famous.”

“Your paper?” Rue was suddenly suspicious.

“Your paper about what?” So was Prim.

“Werelionesses!” Percy crowed.

Rue and Prim stopped dead in their tracks. A garble of outraged dialects met the three tourists impeding the walkway.

“Percy,” hissed Rue, “you didn't.”

“I most certainly did! Far more romantic and exciting than weremonkeys, don't you think? And I'm the
only
author.”

“Primrose, and I mean this kindly, would you be awfully upset if I strangled your brother?”

“Go right ahead.” Primrose's fine eyes were flashing. “Percy, how could you! Tasherit explicitly asked that her status as a supernatural be kept private.”

“I perjured myself in an official report to the
queen
by not mentioning her!” Rue added.

“We all agreed!” insisted Prim.

Percy came over truculent. “I didn't agree. And I couldn't very well let that insufferable inventor and his female confidante get the credit for the second most important discovery of the century.”

“Oh, Percy, Miss Sekhmet is going to be so upset.” Prim nibbled her lip.

“And that's what really concerns you, isn't it, sister?”

“I've no idea what you're talking about.” Prim began walking again and the other two were forced to keep up.

“As if I don't see those whiskers sniffing around—”

Rue could see where this was heading. “Stop it, both of you. Percy, you're insufferable. You did this to get back at Quesnel and there is good chance we might lose Tasherit because of it. We need her desperately right now. She's the best defence our ship has. Not to mention a fine friend and stalwart companion. How thoughtless of you.”

Percy narrowed his eyes. “Footnote doesn't like her.”

“You can't possibly tell me you feel the same? I thought you enjoyed Miss Sekhmet's company. Or at least tolerated her more than most.” Rue was not going to let him sidle out of a bad decision.

“Well, yes,” Percy muttered, “but this is a matter of academic pride and standing! Surely she'll understand the seriousness of my intellectual position.”

M
iss Sekhmet, as it turned out, did not understand the seriousness of Percy's intellectual position. This was made evident shortly after Rue and Prim marched him belowdecks to face Tasherit and confess all. If she had been a lioness at that moment, she would have gone straight for his neck and no gentle nibbles about it.

Lacking cat form, Miss Sekhmet used language to eviscerate instead. “Idiot child! Have you any idea what you've done? The danger you've brought down on us?” Even lounging in a chair, she seemed to loom, vibrating like an ill-struck chord.

Percy was defensive. “
The
Spotted Custard
has weathered worse. You'll be safe here.”

Tasherit bared her teeth, square and human but still menacing. “That is not the
us
I'm worried about. You can't possibly have thought me the last of my kind?”

Percy looked guilty. “Well…”

“You have endangered my pride. What little is left of it.”

“I don't understand.” Percy, being a frightful booby, was never one to take his cherished book learning and actually apply it to reality. Presumably, he would find such a logical step quite silly.

“Werecats have been safe, forgotten, lost to antiquity, free of the concerns of you paltry mortals with all your petty wars and sad little dynasties. Our safety is in anonymity, not numbers. And what now? Now your ships with their nets and sundowner guns will be after us.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Supernatural status is a legal right, one that needs to be granted, not assumed. Without the Crown's protection, we are the world's most exciting big game. Did you forget your own past? Your Dark Ages, before werewolves were part of society? Perhaps you should go and discuss history with Lord Maccon. I am certain
he
has not forgotten. You wanted academic credit, Percival Tunstell? Now your name will be recorded for all posterity as the architect of werelion genocide. It wouldn't take much. We haven't many breeding males left.”

Percy was white, his freckles popping out like currents in a fruitcake. “How do you know?”

Tasherit slapped both hands to the table and leaned forward. “Muttonhead! It's what the British Empire does. You couldn't possibly think your expansion a glorious, enlightening, civilising force? All those books and you never once realised that is the song all conquerors sing?”

Primrose was moved to speak. “Now, now, I wouldn't take it so far.”

Tasherit, colour high, eyes fairly shooting sparks of disgust, turned on her. “Wouldn't you? And how might the Tasmanians feel about that? Wait, we will never know, will we? There aren't any of them
left
. Or the rubber-workers of the Putumayo? And both are peoples classified by your government as
human
. Without any protection at all, my people are mere animals.”

She turned back to Percy. “Collectors. Explorers. Hunters. It doesn't matter what you name them. You – you insect! – have let them loose on my people. Mine. I was a fool to trust you. Any of you.” She glared, including both Prim and Rue in this statement.

Rue could not argue; the werecat's anger was justified.

Primrose looked miserable.

Even Percy was cowed.

But Tasherit's statement made Rue think. “Percy, did you send your paper to an academic review committee?”

“Naturally. Why do you think it took them so long to announce the finding? Shockingly bad form to delay, if you ask me. But they wanted verification.”

“So people outside the Royal Society know, likely
have known
, since before we left London?”

Percy was not interested. “I suppose so.”

Miss Sekhmet sagged, her face drawn, cheekbones even more prominent.

“You can be quite the insufferable nib, Percy. You know that?” Rue scrubbed her face with her hand and began to pace.

Primrose followed Rue's reasoning. “You think the attacks back in London and during quarantine are related to Percy's paper, not Quesnel's tank?”

Rue nodded. “Our attackers are likely after Tasherit. If Percy used her as the only known example and if he reported her presence in our crew as proof.”

“Only to the review committee,” interjected Percy. “As evidence. I didn't need it in the paper proper for publication.”

“Committees talk.” Rue squeezed one hand with the other as she moved.

“You think they attacked in order to get me to change shape?” Miss Sekhmet put effort into calming herself. Long practice, Rue suspected, from an old supernatural creature.

“I think the presence of a pet lioness fighting smart to defend
The
Spotted Custard
is awfully substantiating.”

“They're after me?”

“You'd make a pretty nice addition to any unscrupulous natural historian who wanted to collect the world's only known sample of werecat. Caged on display or pinned like a butterfly to velvet backing, I imagine they care not which.”

Prim scooted closer to Tasherit and put a cautious arm around the werelioness's shoulders. “Oh, Percy, how could you?”

Tasherit didn't shrug her off.

Rue paused at the head of the table. “I thought they were after Quesnel's tank, but Mother tells me that it's an established invention with patents. It makes more sense that they are after you. The weremonkeys have a treaty and the werecats do not. Which makes them fair game by empire law.”

Percy looked as if he would protest, so Rue held up a forestalling hand.

“British policy doesn't recognise supernaturals as people, not in the broader sense. We've only legislation to cover vampires and werewolves specifically. I made a cock-up, as far as the queen was concerned, with weremonkeys when I granted them legal standing.”

Primrose nibbled her bottom lip. “So Miss Sekhmet is right?”

“Yes. Percy has let the cat out of the bag in a big way.”

Tasherit looked up, her almond eyes wide with fear.

“Oh, mercy.” Prim finally understood the full scope of the implications. There were fates worse than death, especially to immortals.

Percy squinted, confused. “Rue, are you worried people will want werelions for pets?”

Miss Sekhmet curled a lip at him.

“No, you idiot!” Primrose lashed out at her brother, almost physically, shaking in repressed fury. “She is saying they will want them for slaves.”

Rue sat heavily, slumping forward in a manner most indecorous for a young lady. But such a situation as this warranted bad posture. “Recriminations are all very well but what's done is done and Percy will have to answer for it. I leave the manner of his punishment up to you, Miss Sekhmet. Meanwhile, we have a responsibility to your people. How can we help protect them?
The
Spotted Custard
is at your disposal. We will do whatever we can to fix this.”

Tasherit took a long, shaky breath. “We must get to them
first
.”

Rue nodded. “We run the risk of being followed and leading the enemy straight to them.”

“Do you, or do you not, have the fastest ship in the British Empire?”

“So they tell me.”

“Then prove it. It's most important to warn them. At this juncture, the British are coming. We simply must to beat them there.”

“Very well.” Rue assumed her captain voice. “Primrose, please check we've restocked sufficiently for a long journey and ascertain the whereabouts of the crew. I know some are on shore leave. We must get them back as quickly as possible. Percy, you'll have to consult Miss Sekhmet as to our course. I'm sorry, Tasherit, but he's the best we've got. I advise planning it in such a way as to make it look as if we are tourists. The longer we remain innocuous the better. Is that practicable?”

Tasherit nodded.

Everyone was somewhat emboldened with the possibility of action.

Rue turned to mobilise the remaining crew for departure. It would be best if they were ready to move as soon as the last straggler boarded. Then she thought of something else.

“Percy, after you've done all you can to get us ready, I want you researching that treaty of ours with the weremonkeys, plus any supporting texts. See if we can't graduate other species in or use it as legal precedent to get the werecats a similar treaty. You're the closest we've got to a solicitor, and you've amends to make.”

Percy sputtered a protestation.

Rue cut him off. “I don't care if your brain rots reading while airborne. You'll take that risk or I'll jettison you in the middle of the nearest desert. Don't test me.”

She left the buzzing atmosphere of confrontation for the slightly less oppressive heat of the upper deck. Most of the decklings were slumbering in their hammocks. Rue hated to rouse them, but rouse them she did.

“How many are off on leave?” she asked once they'd rallied round.

“One of the deckhands and four of us, including Spoo,” piped up a sleepy voice.

“And the staff?”

Another deckling wrinkled his nose. “We don't much steam with those belowdecks but Cook certainly sent a few off to the market.”

Virgil chivvied up at that juncture. “What ho, Lady Captain? Himself is in a tizzy and has me running all sorts of places. What's flipped his pikelet?”

Rue sniffed. “
Himself
has put us all in a bit of a bind. We float out as soon as full complement is aboard.” She returned to the patient decklings. “I'm sorry, you lot, but all leave is cancelled. Plus you'll have to spread the word to the other unluckies all over the ship. I want us ready to go as soon as may be. Double shifts and double pay if you can get us ready by sundown.”

A chorus of groans met that.

“Now, please.”

The decklings scampered off, with a little less enthusiasm than usual given the oppressive heat and curtailed fun.

Virgil turned to go about whatever business Percy had set him.

“You keep an ear to most things aboard ship, don't you, Virgil?”

Virgil grinned.

“Who else of ours is loose in Cairo?”

Virgil considered. “Steward took a log, so Miss Tunstell should be able to get the details for you. I'd guess about half the sooties and two greasers went off to explore. Old Aggie is still flapping below, though, so we won't fall out of the sky.”

“I certainly hope not.”

Virgil turned to go, giving her a final tidbit over his shoulder as he moved off. “And your Mr Lefoux left about an hour ago.”

“Did he, indeed? And where, exactly, did he go?”

“Search me.”

About an hour or so later, Rue went to visit Percy in his lair.

“Come to yell at me again, have you?”

“No. I think you know well enough what you've done.”

Percy sighed. “I do now. Rummy business. I didn't consider it from Miss Sekhmet's perspective. I thought her wanting to stay undisclosed was a whim.”

“Percy, she's hundreds of years old. Does anyone with that much experience have
whims
any more?”