Alexia could understand what came next. He would get her in to the queen, he would arrange for her to touch Matakara, and she would die. So, too, would Alexia, as the other vampires in their pain and loss would kill her outright, and baby Primrose as well.
“Have you thought this through, Chancellor?”
“Yes.”
“You are cursing me to die with this last desperate gambit.”
“Yes.”
“You know, you could still borrow Prudence? She’s small enough to sneak in and out.”
“Too late, Lady Maccon.”
“I thought things were never too late for an immortal. Isn’t that the point? All you creatures have is time.”
Chancellor Neshi only led the way into the hive house.
Alexia followed. She couldn’t think of anything better to do.
It was much the same as before. A crowd of servants descended upon them to remove their shoes, and the chancellor went off to alert his queen as to Lady Maccon’s presence.
However, Alexia was much less welcome without her actor escort. She couldn’t understand what the other drones and vampires said to Chancellor Neshi when she appeared at the throne room entrance, but it was said very loudly and angrily.
Above them, Queen Matakara sat on and in and within her throne of blood and watched everything with tortured eyes.
Alexia inched toward her.
Chancellor Neshi went and retrieved Primrose from some hidden sanctum. The baby seemed perfectly unharmed. She waved chubby arms at Alexia, in one fist clutching a large necklace of gold and turquoise.
One of the drones noticed that Lady Maccon was moving toward his queen and launched himself at her. He was a slender fellow, but wiry and muscled, plenty strong enough to hold her.
Alexia thought of going for her parasol. She thought of diving at the queen, getting her bare hand to the woman’s exposed forehead. She thought of grabbing Primrose and running away from them all. She thought of struggling against her captor. She could probably break free; she’d had enough experience with that by now. For a proper Englishwoman, she was adept at the application of elbows and feet to delicate anatomy. She thought of doing many things, but she actually did none of them. She pushed herself back into the numbness and let it wash over her, for the first time in her life inclined to do nothing at all, to wait and see.
The arguing continued.
Then there was a tumult in the hallway and two drones brought in a struggling Madame Lefoux.
“Alexia! I thought you would be here.”
“You did? Oh.”
“It was the only logical explanation. Once I removed the idea that a vampire wants to live forever, I was left with the answer. Matakara started the plague, both times. First against the werewolves and later against the vampires and herself. And if she wanted to die that badly, she’d try to get either you or Prudence to touch her.”
“And how could you blundering in here now possibly help?” Alexia was confused but not angry. She didn’t have enough emotion left to be angry.
“I brought reinforcements.”
At which juncture a mechanical ladybug trundled into the room with Prudence riding atop it. “Mama!”
At that, Alexia did get angry. “Genevieve, what were you thinking! To bring my daughter into a hive of vampires, one of them a kidnapper who wanted her in the first place? A hive whose queen wants to die. A hive that will go mad if that happens.”
The Frenchwoman smiled. “Oh, I didn’t bring only her.”
Bustling in after Prudence came the acting troupe. The thespians wore identical expressions of seriousness and were armed with the stage swords and props of their trade. They were led by Ivy Tunstell and her husband. Ivy wore an undersized admiralty hat in white and black with a particularly large ostrich feather out the top, and Tunstell’s trousers, while tight, were made of leather for battle.
The practical part of Alexia thought that an acting troupe was hardly reinforcements against a hive of vampires.
The advent of this crowd of theatrical invaders caused a tizzy. There were colorful fabrics and people flying everywhere, as the actors employed stage fighting, tumbling, and, in the case of one young lady, ballet to dodge their opponents. There was a good deal of shouting and one operatic war cry from Mr. Tumtrinkle.
Tunstell began quoting Shakespeare. Ivy charged for her daughter, parasol wielded in a manner Alexia felt did her proud. The drone holding the infant stood with mouth slightly open for sufficiently long enough to allow Ivy to bop him hard on the head and yank her daughter away. Alexia half expected her dear friend to then faint at her own audacity, but Ivy Tunstell stood firm, child on hip, parasol at the ready. The tiny part of Alexia that was not numb was outlandishly satisfied.
With uproar continuing and the vampires and drones distracted, Alexia resumed creeping toward the hive queen. Matakara wanted to die. Matakara who had started everything. Matakara who was responsible for her husband’s death. Well, Lady Alexia Maccon would see her dead. And gladly!
Alexia made it to the base of the platform upon which the gruesome chair stood. She caught Chancellor Neshi’s eye and he nodded, encouraging her, before continuing his argument with one of the other vampires. Alexia wondered if anyone else even understood what was going on.
Just as she was about to climb up, a vampire grabbed her around the waist. He lost his strength upon contact but maintained his grip. He yanked her around and bore her down to the floor. As she fell, Alexia could see all was not going well for Madame Lefoux’s would-be invasion.
Ivy, clutching Primrose, was fending off two drones with her parasol, but soon enough their surprise at her attire would wear off and she would succumb. Gumption only got a girl so far. Tunstell had Prudence’s ladybug held high and was bashing it about. Mr. Tumtrinkle was faced off against a vampire and not doing well, as might be expected. Even all his fancy fencing tricks from Hamlet and the Overcooked Pork Pie—a Tragedy were not fast enough nor strong enough, or, quite frankly, deadly enough for an immortal.
A scream diverted Alexia’s attention. A vampire launched himself at Ivy, going for her neck. The drone attacking her fell back.
Alexia unhooked her parasol, took aim, and then realized she was out of numbing darts. She turned the middle nodule right and out popped the wooden stake at the tip. She began bashing about with it. She dared not use the lapis solaris; the acid would surely do just as much damage to one of her actor defenders.
Prudence, who had taken initial refuge from the kerfuffle under a small table, emerged at Ivy’s terrified scream. She charged the vampire attacking Mrs. Tunstell and beat at his ankle with her tiny fists. It was enough contact to turn her vampire, and him not. He was left gnawing uselessly on Ivy’s bloodied neck, and Prudence turned into a bouncing blur of excited infant with supernatural abilities. She was of very little help as she merely bucketed about, not knowing her own strength, hurling everyone aside whether vampire, drone, or actor. Behind her, Ivy crumpled to the floor, still managing to support Primrose but suffering from shock or loss of blood, or both.
And then, leaping up to the balcony from the street below and charging into the room via the open window came a massive beast. And atop the wolf, looking as dignified and butlerlike as might be possible for a man riding a werewolf, was Floote.
Alexia stopped trying to touch Queen Matakara and turned in a slow, ponderous manner. She felt as though she were seeing and experiencing everything underwater.
“Conall Maccon, I thought you were dead!”
Lord Maccon looked up at his wife from where he had his jaws about a vampire’s leg, let go, and barked at her.
“Do you know how I’ve been suffering for the last week? How could you? Where have you been?”