The Zeppelin Deception Read online

  “As long as one doesn’t get assaulted while traveling to Whitechapel,” I said grimly.

  “Of course not,” he replied quickly. “I meant for you to remain here without venturing out at all. Traveling to or in Whitechapel is— Well, Mina, you mustn’t take the chance.”

  I wasn’t so certain of that, but for once, I was too tired to debate the point. “I suppose it’s for the best—that way I will be present should Pix somehow find his way back here.” I looked at Evaline. “Could I impose upon you to bring me some items from my home on the morrow? Namely, the mail and some money? Using hackneys to go to and fro across the city is quite expensive, and I’ve exhausted my funds.”

  Evaline agreed, and shortly thereafter, she and Grayling (along with a happy-again Angus) took their leave.

  Miss Stoker

  ~ Wherein Our Stubborn Heroine Goes On Her Own ~

  I didn’t care what Mina said. I was going to find Pix.

  Cosgrove Terrace was silent and mostly dark.

  From two blocks away, I could make out a single light flickering at the front entrance beyond the massive iron gate. Other than that, the windows of all four stories on the street-facing side were curtained and unlit.

  The black mourning banners decorating the estate fluttered and shimmied in the night air. A bit of snow was falling, but it wasn’t as ugly or messy as it had been yesterday, when I visited for tea. Though it was certainly cold.

  I was going inside.

  And poor Grayling—he thought he’d left me safely at Grantworth House. I smothered a grin. He and Angus had insisted on seeing me back home after we left Pix’s hideout.

  I slipped from shadow to shadow, taking care not to step on the few patches of ice that littered the walkway and considered my plan. I was still two blocks away, but the gates to Cosgrove Terrace were directly in front of me at the end of the street.

  From my previous visits, I knew the elegant home was on a rectangle of land. Though it was in town and not far from St. James, the property was quite large. It took up half a block in width, and was two blocks deep.

  The house itself was situated near the front of the plot on a small rise that allowed it to look down over the grounds. Its location left a large space in the rear for a sprawling, three-level terrace as well as lush, manicured gardens, walkways, a small pond, arbors, and a few fruit and flowering trees. Of course, it being winter, there would be little in the way of cloaking greenery except the pines and a few bushes. Though it would make my task more challenging, that fact didn’t bother me in the least.

  Two blocks ahead were the gated entrance and a sweeping driveway behind it. A tall stone wall overgrown with ivy enclosed the entire grounds and kept the gardens private. Beyond the copper and brass gateway, I could see the flat roof of the house with its decorative metal ornamentation. The copper and bronze decoration matched each of the ten balconies studding the sides of the building, which was constructed of dark brown brick.

  I would find a way inside—either over the stone wall, or through some side door—from the darkest, most distant corner of the grounds. And then one of the balconies would surely give me access to the inside of the house.

  I smiled in anticipation, my breath making a crisp white cloud.

  Finally, I was doing something.

  Then my smile faded. This wasn’t a game. It wasn’t an adventure.

  I was about to break into the home of a murderer. Not only did I have to get in without being noticed, but I had to somehow find Pix and get him out—if he was even there—without anyone the wiser. And the house was absolutely huge.

  And, knowing the Ankh, there was an excellent chance he might not be mobile. If he was even alive.

  I didn’t spend a lot of time wondering why I was risking my life to (possibly) rescue a pickpocket who might not be a murderer. Especially when I was about to marry one of the nation’s most esteemed bachelors.

  At the moment, my future didn’t matter.

  There wasn’t much of a moon tonight, and though the trees and bushes were bare and didn’t offer a lot of cover, I wouldn’t easily be noticed. I was dressed in dark clothing—for when Grayling escorted me home, I’d followed Mina’s lead and changed into more comfortable trousers and boots. I was quick and small and strong. No one would see me in the darkness.

  In the distance, Big Ben chimed half past one, the warning echoed by the less melodious bells in the Oligary Tower…which, of course, reminded me that in three weeks I’d be in that very building on the Tower Penthouse at my own wedding.

  The thought settled unpleasantly in my lower belly. I ruthlessly shoved away the reminder. I would worry about that later.

  I stuck to the shadows of nearby houses and occasional trees, avoiding the gaslights that cast their small golden glow over the walkway. I was still more than a block from the Cosgrove-Pitt gates when a strange noise caught my attention. It was a sort of low, rumbling hum, followed by a pronounced hiss…and it caused me to look up.

  My body turned to ice.

  Above the rooftops, sliding through the night like an unpleasant shadow, was the sleek black airship. It was lower in the sky than I’d ever seen it, barely clearing the chimneys below.

  It was coming this way.

  This way.

  I flattened myself against the rough bark of an oak tree and watched, my heart in my throat, as the airship cruised closer and closer…the rumbling becoming more distinct as it slid through the night…nearer and nearer.

  Tonight there was no beam of white light shooting down. If I hadn’t been outside and heard it, I probably wouldn’t even have seen the thing. In the cloudless night sky, it was nearly invisible.

  The soft hiss of steam cut through the night as the vessel slowed…

  …and then came to rest, floating in midair, just above the roof of Cosgrove Terrace.

  I could hardly believe my eyes.

  My hands were ice-cold, and it had nothing to do with the weather. I realized I was hardly breathing, and I couldn’t look away as the airship began to sink lower and lower toward the roof of the house. I was afraid it was going to crash onto the roof…but then it finally disappeared.

  I goggled, staring, trying to make sense of what I’d just seen.

  Had it been an apparition? Some sort of trick of the eye? It was there, then it was gone.

  Then I realized the zeppelin had landed on top of the house. The walls of the building must be taller than the roof—creating a clever place for the airship to hide. No one would be able to see it from the ground.

  This probably meant it wasn’t the first time the airship had landed here.

  We have no reason to connect the airship with the Ankh, Mina had said earlier tonight.

  Well—ha! For once, I was right and she was wrong!

  Now I had a second reason to get inside Cosgrove Terrace.

  Keeping my eye on the mansion beyond the gates in case the airship began to rise again, I slunk closer to the grounds. Despite the landing of the zeppelin, there seemed to be no disturbance anywhere. No different sounds, no additional lights, and certainly no people.

  I wondered briefly whether the occupants of Cosgrove Terrace even knew the vessel had arrived. I supposed it was possible they didn’t—that it was some sort of surprise attack or visit…

  There was only one way to find out.

  Aware that the arrival of the airship could cause an alarm or otherwise awaken anyone in the vicinity, I kept to the shadows even more closely as I approached the edge of the Cosgrove-Pitt property. I stayed far from the illuminated gated entrance.

  Yet the night remained silent and still as I picked my way along the perimeter of the stone wall, looking for a doorway or other entrance to the grounds. All the while, I kept my eye on the top of the house, waiting to see whether the airship would rise again or whether something else would happen.

  It took me longer than expected, but I did a complete circuit of the property without finding any other means of entrance.
That meant I was going to have to go up and over the wall.

  Despite what Mina might think, I was fully prepared for any situation. At least tonight. I had a strong rope and a grappler hook that would (I hoped) cling to the decorative edge of the top layer of brick.

  I was just looking for a good place to sling it over the wall when a creaking noise along with a gentle scraping sound drew my attention.

  It was the front gate. The doors were sliding open. Sticking to the shadows and near the wall, I bolted toward the entrance as quickly as possible. This could be my chance to slip inside without being noticed…

  But who was going out or coming in at this late time? There were no vehicles on the street. I paused, hiding behind a snow-covered bush.

  And then I saw it: the small pool of golden light cruising down the curved drive. It was accompanied by a quiet rumble and a purring roar, very different from that of the airship.

  A steam-car came into view, and I nearly swallowed my tongue. Sir Emmett?

  I definitely recognized the vehicle. I flattened myself against the cold stone wall, shivering as ice dripped onto my head and inside the back of my coat, and edged closer. I needed to see who was inside.

  The vehicle crunched out of the driveway and turned in the opposite direction from where I was hiding. I couldn’t see who was inside, thanks to its tinted windows and the darkness.

  I wavered for just a minute. Then, when I realized the gates were rolling closed, I made a dash for it, uncaring that a lamp was illuminating the entrance.

  I barely streaked through. I had a moment to be grateful I wasn’t wearing my cloak, because I’m sure it would have gotten caught as the gates swung shut. Only a little out of breath, I backed up against the wall between a leafless tree and an arborvitae and waited to hear whether an alarm would be raised.

  The house appeared quiet. The night was still except for the quiet clatter of bare branches against each other and the ever-present whoosh of steam.

  No alarm. No shouts.

  No one had seen me.

  I waited another few minutes just to be certain, but the world remained quiet.

  Now I had to figure out how to get inside. The four stories of the mansion reared above me with a smooth face interrupted only by windows that overlooked the drive. The lamp at the front door remained lit, and I could see no other movement inside the house.

  That was interesting, for if someone (Sir Emmett?) had just left, wouldn’t the butler or even Lady Isabella have seen him to the door?

  And what was he doing here so late at night?

  Or had he been inside the airship?

  That thought stopped me cold.

  And then I remembered what Ned had said—that his brother had left for Paris on the same day I told him I’d seen him here at Cosgrove Terrace.

  If that was true, could the airship have taken him to Paris? And brought him back?

  And if that was the case…had Lady Isabella been with him?

  Was that why she hadn’t responded to my message from earlier today?

  Those wild, complicated, messy thoughts made my brain feel as though it was too full—and getting fuller.

  Too many ideas, too many possibilities—and all of them were strange and shocking. And most of them seemed impossible.

  How did Mina do it? How did she organize all those thoughts and clues and ideas and make sense of them? And was nearly always correct?

  I shook my head and, in doing so, dumped an icy clump of snow from the arborvitae into the back of my coat. I should have worn a hat, drat it. At least the brim would have kept some of it from dripping down on me.

  But the shock of cold had the effect of straightening me up and jolting me from the confused thoughts. I could think about what it all meant later. I had things to do now.

  I was just creeping out from my hiding place when the back of my neck prickled. It was an eerie sensation, a familiar one.

  Blast.

  An UnDead was near.

  I grumbled to myself but dutifully dug out the stake from my coat pocket. I really didn’t have time to mess around with a vampire. I wanted to get inside, to see if Pix was there, and to take a look at that airship.

  Besides, a fight with an UnDead would probably draw attention to me. At the very least, the smell of vampire ash—once I staked it—would fill the air and cling to me like a nasty odor.

  By now I’d managed to approach the house itself by staying in the shadows and skirting around the edge of the front landscaping. I had the stake in my hand. The back of my neck was still cold and prickly, and my nose was as frozen as a little icicle.

  I eyed the front door, wondering if there was any chance I might be able to simply open it and walk in. After all, the huge gates would keep out the riffraff and provide security. Why lock the door?

  With this optimistic thought, I climbed up onto the long, wide porch from the darker side. The door, hidden behind the shivering mourning banner, seemed accessible enough.

  Aware of the growing intensity of the chill at the back of my neck, I reached for the latch, the stake gripped in my hand and ready.

  To my surprise and delight, the door handle moved, lifting slightly. So much for security.

  Smiling, I unlatched the catch and pushed the door open. I was just about to step inside when a shadow fell across me.

  From behind.

  I spun, just in time to see the glow of red eyes before the creature lunged for me. He was a big man with a gaunt face. His fangs gleamed a dull white as I dodged, ducking beneath his outstretched arm to come up behind him.

  My stake raised, I was about to plunge it down when he twisted around suddenly. I nearly fell off the porch trying to evade his grasp, but managed to catch myself at the last second by hooking an arm around the porch pillar. Using the column for leverage, I spun and whipped my foot into his torso in one smooth motion.

  The vampire grunted and staggered, and it was my turn to lunge, stake in hand, as I plunged it into his chest.

  He cried out once, breaking the silence of the still night, then evaporated into the foul ash that proved I’d done my job.

  I wasn’t terribly out of breath. It had been exhilarating, doing what I was meant to do—the first time in months—and I paused for a moment to brush off the dust that exploded onto me.

  “Brilliantly done, Evaline,” came a female voice behind me…just before something crashed into the back of my head.

  Everything went blank.

  Miss Stoker

  ~ A Rude Awakening ~

  I opened my eyes to find several strangers standing over me.

  “Are you all right, then, sir?” one of the strangers said. Another of them, a woman, was gently patting my cheek, as if to rouse me. A third stood behind them. For some reason, he was holding two milk cans.

  And apparently, I was “sir.”

  I was cold and stiff and wet. I was also, somehow, sitting propped against a lamppost near the street, and my head hurt. When I realized I still wore trousers and a man’s coat, I understood why they were calling me sir.

  I blinked, looking around. I wasn’t certain where I was. None of the houses seemed familiar. It was no longer night, but barely light enough to be considered morning. It was lucky that snow hadn’t fallen overnight, or I could have been buried in it. Or turned into a living icicle.

  “Sir? Should we call you a doctor?” asked another of the strangers.

  “Can ye stand up there, sir?” asked the milkman.

  “Yes,” I said, and batted away the woman patting me in the face. “I can stand.”

  “All right, then, sir… Well, bless my soul, it’s a girl.” The first stranger must have noticed my sagging bundle of hair. “Are you certain you’re all right, then, miss? What happened?”

  I brushed them away with a curt thank you as I struggled to contain my frustration.

  I couldn’t believe it. I’d been caught red-handed trying to break into the lair of a murderess, and instead of being captu
red and held prisoner—or worse—someone had bonked me on the head and dropped me off on the street.

  I hadn’t even set foot inside Cosgrove Terrace, and I had a bump on the back of my head.

  Despite my grumbles, the cluster of strangers—they turned out to be a milkman, the baker’s wife, and a cog-cutter, all on their way to work—insisted on helping me to find a hackney.

  “Can’t leave a young peach like yerself wandering ’bout all disgruntled like that,” said the baker’s wife. “Do ye remember where ye live, then, miss?”

  “Yes,” I replied shortly, then remembered my manners. “Thank you very much.”

  It turned out that whoever had dumped me in the street had gone through the trouble of taking me several blocks from Cosgrove Terrace—as if to try to confuse me about where I’d been.

  More angry with myself and the situation than injured, I climbed into the horseless taxi and settled in to sulk on my way home. Thankfully, since it was just barely dawn, Florence would still be abed.

  That would be the last thing I needed—for her to catch me coming in so late and dressed in men’s clothing.

  The very thought of how she’d react made my head pound more sharply. I closed my eyes, tipping back against the seat until a sharp pain reminded me that I had a knot at the back of my head. Ugh.

  Because there wasn’t much traffic this early, the hackney was able to rumble so fast on the cobblestone road that it jolted and jittered me, making the headache even worse.

  There was one good thing about this entire situation, however.

  I could contact Mina and tell her all about it instead of trying to figure it all out alone.

  And even though she would surely annoy me to no end with her incessant lecturing and pontificating, at least this time I could tell her I’d been right—and she’d been wrong.

  That alone was worth the disappointment.

  I’d forgotten I had the final fitting for my masquerade costume this morning. Mrs. Glimmerston, the designer, was very busy and very popular, and I knew there was no chance of rescheduling. Especially since the ball was the next day.