The Queen Is Dead (The Immortal Empire) (4 page)

Fang me, was the prince courting her? She smiled at him–a terrifying sight. A goblin baring its teeth was never pretty, though the prince certainly seemed to like it. He smiled back. My stomach trembled, then growled.

This was so buggered up. “You had something to show me?” I prodded. The sooner he shared, the sooner I could leave. I wasn’t ready for goblin mating rituals.

“Hungry is our lady.”

And I wasn’t ready to witness traditional goblin dining again. I’d seen what they did to Church.

What
I’d
done to Church. I swallowed the bitterness that coated my tongue. “I’m fine.”

The prince barked–literally. It was a deep, sharp sound that got my heart kicking at my ribs. Seconds later, a small gob with horn-shaped barrettes on her head and metal rivets in her pointed ears appeared with a tray laden with fruit.

A similar tray had been offered to me the first time I came down here, and I’d resisted the temptation. It was a universally ignored fact in this city that goblins were also dealers of opium–junkies weren’t usually missed when they disappeared. They owned a couple of legal dragon dens as well, but I reckoned most of their funds came from private deals and their little “soirées”. I should probably be horrified, but I wasn’t. You want to play goblin roulette with your life? That’s your business. And your short little existence.

“It will not harm you,” the prince said, as though reading my thoughts. He wasn’t stupid, and my wariness was telegraphed so loudly Vex could probably feel it in Scotland. “What we give to the meat this is not.”

Ah yes, the meat. My stomach growled again and I shrugged. I didn’t want to offend and I was starving. Plus there was the dismal reminder that the goblins were the only friends I had. I might not be the brightest candle, but I wasn’t completely daft. And I needed all the friends I could get.

The cherries looked bloody delicious. I took the entire
bowl from the tray. It had to weigh a couple of pounds. “Thanks.”

The little goblin grinned. Sweet baby Albert, I hoped that stuff in her teeth was cherry pulp.

I ate as the prince led me from the great hall to the torch-lit catacomb corridor. I suspected this maze was mostly Roman in origin, but it was hard to tell in the dark. They might have been nineteenth-century tunnels or seventeenth-century sewers. I had no idea. The underside of London was such a hollowed-out thing, it was amazing the entire city hadn’t fallen in on itself. There used to be a plague pit near here, but I had a sneaking suspicion that it was humans who’d been killed rather than mutated by the plague who made up a great deal of the furniture in the den.

“How big is this place?” I asked, glancing around at the rough stone and high ceilings.

“Big,” the prince replied lightly as he stole a cherry from my bowl. “The pits, save them, please.”

I spat the one in my mouth into the bowl. It was my spit, so I didn’t care. The prince put his in his pocket.

“Thank you for accommodating me, I know you had plans for the evening.”

I frowned, chewed on another cherry. It split crisply between my teeth, sweet, wet tang flooding my mouth. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to me.”

“The lady feels obligation, that is why she is afraid to come underside, afraid her prince will expect her to wear the crown.”

He was either terribly astute or I was simply transparent. “Yes.”

The prince shook his shaggy head. “You are queen whether you want to be or not. We are yours whether it is pleasing or not. Only the lady does not seem to understand. Accept your crown or do not, it changes nothing.”

“You’d swear fealty even if I didn’t want it?”

His muzzle twitched. “Already sworn.”

What the ruddy hell was I supposed to do with such blind devotion? I didn’t even have a pet; how was I supposed to contend with several dozen killing machines determined to serve me?

“I’m sorry.” It was all I could think of to say, bloody genius that I was.

“So much breath you waste apologising.”

Really? I often thought I wasn’t sorry enough. I bit into another cherry.

We turned left, and then right into a large room that made my jaw drop. Almost every inch of wall space was covered in screens of varying sizes. Instead of VBC channels, however, the images were of London streets and buildings.

No wonder the goblins knew so much. They had more eyes on the city than MI-bloody-6. Four goblins were in the room, watching the screens and recording information. A low-pitched alarm sounded and a small light flashed beside a monitor halfway down the far wall. One of the goblins immediately went to it and recorded what was on the screen. It looked like two men having sex in an alley.

“What is this?”

The prince stole another cherry from my bowl. “Knowing cobbleside business is necessary for the plague. We were ignorant once. Never again.”

He was referring to the Great Insurrection, obviously.
Humans invading their territory en masse must have been a great surprise–one they hadn’t seen coming. “Impressive.”

“Plague knowledge is our lady’s knowledge.”

Ah, he knew how to play me. Imagine the things I could be privy to with this sort of set-up at my disposal. I peered at one monitor. “Is that the palace?”

The prince made a chuffing noise. Laughter? “Our lady’s brother seen last when?”

“Two nights ago. He left his rotary at Freak Show.”

It might have been my imagination, but the prince went very, very still at the mention of the club. “Roderick,” he said.

A male goblin–and I could tell it was male not because of his name, but because he was very well endowed–strutted over to a large bank of buttons, switches and inlaid monitors. Had he never heard of trousers?

The prince inclined his head at the gob and I took the hint to approach. I kept my gaze firmly on Roderick’s furry head. He bowed when I reached him. “Lady,” he rasped. He didn’t meet my gaze, simply gestured to one of the flat screens set into the console. As I watched, grainy footage of Freak Show’s front and back e tht and bntrances appeared side by side. A large furry hand with long-clawed fingers turned a knob that increased the speed of the images.

“There,” I said after a few minutes, catching sight of my brother’s familiar face and build. “That’s him.”

The time on the screen told me that Val had arrived at Freak Show shortly after midnight. Roderick reached for another knob–this one controlled the view of the back exit. I leaned close to the screen, even though my vision was beyond excellent. I wanted to make sure I saw my brother when he left.

Images flickered by–like one of those books where you
flipped the pages to create a moving figure. I watched with narrowed eyes…

Fuck
.

“Stop!” My hand whipped out and caught the goblin’s arm. “Go back. There.”

On the screen, in a million shades of grey, was the image of two bubonic betties–humans who injected themselves with plagued blood to enhance their speed and strength, and ultimately died from it–leaving the club. And between them, looking directly into t
he camera, was Val.

What the hell had he got himself into?

Had Val gone with the betties willingly? They’d been known to attack halvies before, usually because that blood gave them almost the same rush with fewer side effects.

But Val didn’t look hurt. He didn’t even look concerned. It had to be part of his investigation, but what was he investigating? The betties? If they caught on to him, they’d kill him for certain. And they wouldn’t be quick about it. They’d drain him first, the bastards.

I was
not
going to lose another sibling. There was nothing I could do. This footage was from two nights ago. He might not even be with the betties any more if he’d managed to fool and arrest them. Then again, he might be a prisoner somewhere, his veins being slowly milked.

Rage washed over me, hot, sudden and uncontainable. I lashed out, punching the rough wall with enough force to send little puffs of dirt and debris into the air. Some of it stuck to the inside of my throat.

None of the goblins said anything, even though my rage could have damaged at least one of their screens. Thankfully, the only thing I seemed to break was my own skin. Blood dripped down my fingers.

The prince very casually took my battered appendage in his, lowered his head, and before I could squeak in distaste, licked the blood from my skin. His tongue was warm, and slightly rough. It was like being licked by a big wild dog.

“Um, thanks,” I said when he had finished. Would he be offended if I wiped his spit on my stockings?

“Healing has been quickened,” he replied. I glanced down; the knuckles that had been torn up just seconds before already appeared to be mending themselves.

Creepy, yet freaking amazing.

Roderick appeared at my side, offering a photographic printout of the betties and Val. It wasn’t terribly clear, but it gave me a place to start.

I slipped out of the monitoring room, pressed my forehead against the wall, and forced a det sep breath into my lungs. Anger came in quick breaths, fear in shallow puffs. If I gave in, I’d gob out, and people tended to get hurt–or die–when I let my goblin self take over. I didn’t want the prince to see me out of control.

Thoughts of Val filled my mind–from when we were children, growing up at the courtesan house, where our mothers had lived, to the Academy and later. He was my only brother–older than me by almost two years. He was one of the few constants in my life. It didn’t matter that he was pissed off at me.

I couldn’t lose him too. I just couldn’t. I knew I was getting ahead of myself, but I couldn’t help it.

A warm paw came down on my shoulder. I lifted my head and turned it to look at the prince. It was difficult to think of him as a monster when he showed me such kindness.

“Not the first halfing taken from the Freak Show,” he told me. “The first to go willingly. Do not fear for him yet.”

I placed my hand over his. My knuckles tingled, the wounds I’d inflicted continuing to heal. His fur was soft and thick. “Thank you. For everything.”

He nodded. Sometime during this he had taken the bowl of cherries from me, and was carrying them against his ribs. We walked back to the great hall in silence. I didn’t go in. I wasn’t in the mood for music or a crowd.

“Your plague,” the prince said. “What do you require of us?”

I folded the photo and stuck it inside my corset, just under my arm. “Nothing. You’ve already done so much.”

He snorted–a sound that was a cross between a growl and a yip. “We serve our lady.”

They weren’t all keen on serving me, I reckoned. I hadn’t asked to be their queen. Of course I hadn’t turned it down either.

“I’ll let you know if I need assistance,” I told him. It was the best I could offer, even though he’d pledged his allegiance to me. Val could turn up at Avery’s tomorrow for breakfast and this fretting would have been for naught.

The prince nodded. It was unnerving how well he seemed to understand me. “Grace us again soon, pretty.”

“Pretty” had started out as a nickname, but now it felt more like a position, or a term of respect. A title, even.

My looks were camouflage. The realisation sent a little shiver down my spine. What carnage would follow if all
goblins could come out of the dark? I’d been raised to have a little fear for humans, but goblins didn’t fear anything. They were predators, and I didn’t fool myself into thinking I’d be able to stop them if they wanted to treat the city as an all-they-could-eat buffet.

I left the den without making any promises. I hitched a ride back to Hyde Park Corner and exited cobbleside to a light rain. The neighbourhood lights brightened the night, blurred slightly by the wet. I ran across the street, leaping on to the kerb a split second before a speeding taxi made me a bonnet ornament. I shook my head. All these thoughts in my head made it hard to think straight.

Eventually I was going to have to decide if I was going to wear that crown sitting in a box in my bedroom cupboard. I couldn’t be a goblin when it was convenient and then hide from it when it wasn’t. I either had to embrace the truth of my genes or walk away from it.

But I didn’t have to do it tonight, I told myself as I swung my leg over the Butler and started the engine. Tonight I would let A te would very know what I’d found out. Hopefully she’d ring me tomorrow and tell me Val was fine. If she didn’t, and it ended up that he was in real trouble…

Well then I reckoned I’d decide dead quick if I was a monster or not when I found the bastards responsible.