Howls and Hallows: A Steampunk Fairy Tale (Steampunk Red Riding Hood Book 5)

by Melanie Karsak

  To my surprise, he winked at me.

  Ten fingers.

  “Cheeky,” I chided him with a chuckle then moved on around the circle.

  I rounded the room, inspecting the housemaids, kitchen boys, and others. One after the other, I found ten fingers. It occurred to me to ask to see their toes as well, but if there was a six-toed shifter in the group, they’d already know what I was looking for and this little exercise would out them well enough without having to embarrass the ladies by asking them to take off their stockings.

  “How will you catch whatever is out there?” one of the maids, a nervous looking girl with black hair and dark brown eyes asked.

  “Hard to say. Depends on what’s out there. But I believe we’re coming around to some conclusions,” I said, giving the girl a hard look.

  Ten fingers.

  I lingered before the girl. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. She was no shifter, but there was something here.

  “What’s your name, love?” I asked the girl.

  “Kerry, m’lady—er, Agent.”

  “Kerry, how long have you been working at Cabell Manor?”

  “Kerry has been with us two years, Agent Louvell,” Missus Carroll, the housekeeper, answered for her.

  “Are you from around here?”

  “Ye-yes. The village.”

  “Kerry’s mother is the village apothecary,” Missus Carroll explained.

  I raised an eyebrow at Missus Carroll.

  “She’s a shy girl, Agent Louvel,” Missus Carroll said.

  “And a sweet girl,” the head cook added.

  I smiled reassuringly at them all.

  “No need to worry,” I said, setting my hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I was just curious.”

  As I had gone around the room, I had slipped the silver knucklebuster in my pocket onto my hand. If the girl had been a shifter, my touch—and the silver—would have affected her. But it didn’t. She wasn’t a shifter, but she knew something. Maybe she was just a shy girl, but those dark eyes were heavy. They had seen magic.

  “Thank you all for your patience,” I told them. “Agent Harper and I will have the matter in hand in no time. But if anyone sees anything, or if you remember anything, please don’t hesitate to tell Agent Harper or me. We don’t bite,” I said, casting a glance around the room then back to the girl.

  She nodded but still didn’t look up.

  I turned to Mister Frances. “I’m sorry to worry you and to interrupt your work. I’m done here.”

  “Not to worry, Agent Louvel. Back to work, everyone,” Mister Frances told the others then motioned for me to follow him. We headed back down the hall away from the servants who erupted into a flurry of whispered conversation in my wake.

  “Don’t mind Kerry, Agent. She is a sweet young thing, just a bit timid.”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you need anything else, Agent?”

  “Yes. Any chance you can smuggle me back into the library. I have some work to do.”

  Mister Frances laughed. “Subterfuge is a servant’s expertise, Agent Louvel.”

  I cast a glance over my shoulder, back down the hallway toward the servant’s hall. Kerry was still there. Her eyes followed me. The cook clapped the girl on her shoulder.

  Kerry gave her a soft smile then looked back at me.

  I felt the weight of her dark eyes on me.

  “Indeed?” I replied to Mister Frances. “That’s very good to know.”

  He chuckled.

  The girl looked away.

  Well, at least some of the pieces were finally coming together.

  Chapter 14: The Night Shift

  I spent the night working in the library and doing my best to avoid Lady Charlotte. It was nearly ten when Harper finally appeared.

  “I thought you went to bed,” she told me. “Slunk back here and left me to Lady Charlotte, eh? Thanks for that.”

  “Well, we must all make sacrifices on behalf of the case.”

  Harper scanned the table. “Is that… Did you have more pudding?”

  “The cook was kind enough to send me a human-sized portion.”

  “And you didn’t ask for one for me?”

  I pointed to the second empty plate on the table.

  “That’s low, Louvel,” Harper said, frowning at me. She slumped into one of the oversized wingback leather chairs. “My head is blasting. Once the men joined us, everyone started drinking wine—again. The posh are such lushes.”

  I chuckled. “Quinn gave me a golden piece of advice. Never, whether pressured by the posh or when flirting with a brawny Scottish tapster, drink on the job.”

  Harper pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Now you tell me. Wait, a brawny Scottish tapster? That explains a lot,” she said then winked at me.

  I chuckled. “Why don’t you go up to bed?”

  “Are you just trying to get rid of me because you have another dessert coming?”

  “I would never do that.”

  “I don’t want to miss all the howling.”

  “You sure about that? If so, you better have a cup of coffee. But I suggest you go to bed. Go sleep so you can help me tromp through the fens again tomorrow. And we may need to take a trip to the village.”

  “What for?”

  “A trip to the apothecary.”

  Harper rose, her hand drifting to her stomach. “A trip to the apothecary sounds like an excellent idea. Ugh.”

  “Good lord, Harper. How much did you drink?”

  “Well, they served a glass with each course. And then afterward too.”

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to drink a full glass with each. Sip. Next time, sip. Now, go to bed.”

  “Sip.” She nodded. “I’ll remember that for next time. Oh! The servants. Did you find our six-toed friend?”

  “Well, there was no shooting and nothing is on fire, so not yet. But I do believe we have a magic user in our midst.”

  Harper wrinkled up her nose. “Doesn’t mean they’re connected to the case. Who?”

  “A kitchen maid.”

  “Could be she’s just a medium or something. Did you ask?”

  “No, not in front of the others. The girl looked like she wanted to jump out of her skin.”

  “Even out here, the Red Capes would be feared by anyone trying to stay out of sight. You know better than anyone that not all preternaturals are bad.”

  No, they weren’t all bad. Some were quite the opposite.

  “True. Either way, she’s one to keep an eye on.”

  “Clemeny, is the room spinning?”

  I chuckled. “No. And you’d better sit down before you vomit all over the Cabell’s fine Turkish rugs.”

  Harper nodded in agreement then dropped back into the chair.

  I shook my head then turned back to my notes. There was something here, something just out of my grasp. What was going on here?

  “Clemeny, if I die, take my body home to my mother,” Harper said a little while later, her voice a half-groan, half-whisper.

  “Want to know the worst part?”

  “Huh?” she replied weakly.

  “You’re going to live.”

  * * *

  I sipped coffee and listened to Harper snore as I looked over my notes and waited for time to pass. What I didn’t understand was why the Cabell family had gone from accepting a tithing from the settlement six months before the incident in the sixteenth century to murdering everyone living there. After hundreds of years of getting along peacefully, did Lord Cabell just wake up one morning and decide to torch all his tenants? It wasn’t as if he did anything with the land afterward. Was it purely religious fervor or had something else happened?

  The thought was playing through my mind as my eyes slowly drifted closed. I could ask Lord Cabell in the morning. Maybe he would know something more.

  I must have fallen asleep then because the clock in the library had just struck three when I woke. Harper was sprawled haphazardly on the chair, h
er pretty dress heaved in every direction, arms and legs flung out, her mouth open wide.

  As I came around, I realized the time. I was just rising, digging my pistol out of my dress pocket, when I heard the first tell-tale yowl outside.

  Casting a glance at Harper, who looked like she would sleep through a dirigible air assault, I left her there then headed toward the back of the house.

  Everything was so silent save the howl across the fen.

  I worked my way through the house once more, digging my night goggles from my bag and slipping them on as I went. I cursed the stupid dress I was still wearing. Why hadn’t I gone up to change?

  I pushed through the ballroom, which was even more decorated than it had been the night before. The empty, dark eyes of the jack-o-lanterns stared out at me. I slipped out the back door and onto the garden terrace just as the creature howled once more. This time, it was definitely in the garden itself.

  I pulled my weapon, adjusted my goggles, and began to move slowly through the mist into the elaborate garden. It was unearthly silent. Not a frog croaked nor a night bird called. Everything in the heavy mist was still. Whatever was out here with me was moving slowly, hunting. I scanned around, letting my mooneye do the hard work. Once again, I spotted apparitions in the mist, spirits appearing then disappearing. Some moved through the dense air back toward the house, others passed by then faded to nothing, mere wisps. The palms of my hands and bottoms of my feet tingled.

  Deep in the garden, I heard a low growl.

  I followed the sound, and for the briefest of moments, spotted the flash of ruby red eyes.

  Werewolf.

  “Come along now,” I called lightly. “A bit rude to be skulking around like this. Why don’t you come out, and let’s have a chat. I came all the way from London to see what you were about, after all.” I waited for any reply, but there was none. I felt the eyes of the beast on me. I had to remind myself that I was not in London anymore. While the werewolves I knew were refined enough to teach at a college, it didn’t mean a rustic wolf would be anything of the sort. Hell, out here, maybe the creature was as lawless and wild as werewolf packs had been in the past.

  I pulled my knife and readied it, my pistol in my other hand.

  Well, if whoever it was didn’t want to come along quietly, there was always another way to handle this problem.

  “Agent Louvel?” a voice called from the veranda.

  Lord Cabell.

  The bushes not far from me rustled, the mist swirling in a quick movement.

  “Agent Louvel?” Lord Cabell called once more.

  “Hell’s bells,” I whispered then raced toward the house. “Edison, go back inside. Edison, go inside now!” I shouted through the mist.

  Racing quickly, I pushed past the statues of the stony-eyed angels. Under the light of the nearly full moon, I could just make out the silhouette of Lord Cabell standing at the rail of the terrace looking over the garden. And then I spotted a dark shape moving toward him—fast.

  I aimed and fired.

  The sound of the gunshot echoed loudly through the night.

  The creature slid to a stop. It turned and looked back at me, red eyes blaring. I could barely make out its shape, but something about the beast looked different. The shape of its ears or size… I wasn’t sure what, but something was off.

  “Come on,” I said, calling it in. “Come to me now.”

  The monster snarled at me then turned and rushed toward the house.

  “Edison, go inside now!” I screamed through the mist.

  The werewolf and I rushed toward the veranda. Instead of listening to me, Lord Cabell stepped into the garden.

  “Agent Louvel?” he called.

  “Dammit,” I whispered, pushing myself hard.

  I was going to make it. I was going to make it.

  I saw red eyes flash as the creature wove around the statues, approaching Lord Cabell on his left flank.

  I raced up the steps.

  “Agent Louvel,” Edison said, moving toward me.

  I heard a low growl then turned in time to see the monster rushing toward us. Its body was still partially hidden by the mist, but the glowing red eyes told the tale.

  I pulled my knife, grabbed Edison, and thrust him behind me. I readied myself.

  At that same moment, the door to the ballroom opened, and Harper appeared.

  “Holy shit,” she said, taking in the situation.

  Lifting her gun, she fired. The wolf had just a split second to anticipate the shot before leaping off the balcony and out of sight.

  Without delay, Harper turned and rushed after the werewolf.

  “What was that?” Edison whispered. “Was that a hellhound?”

  “Close. Now, would you kindly go back inside,” I said. “I need to help Harper find that thing before it gets away.”

  “W-what was that?”

  “Inside, Lord Cabell. Now.”

  He stared out into the mist. “Right,” he said then finally headed back inside.

  I turned and ran after Harper.

  On the far side of the garden, the wolf let off a low howl. He was retreating to the fen.

  “Oh no you don’t.” I raced in the direction of the sound.

  I was startled by the sound of a gunshot. Then another.

  “Harper,” I called, my stomach tying into a knot of worry.

  I reached the edge of the garden to find Harper there, her pistol poised before her, glaring toward the misty treeline.

  “There,” she whispered, pointing. “I missed—stupid rummy head—but the wolf is just there. Look.”

  I followed her gaze. On the other side of the trees, back out in the fen, I spotted the telltale red eyes.

  The creature growled.

  “He’s luring us,” I whispered, well aware that the beast would hear me if I spoke too loudly.

  The wolf turned then loped out of sight, back into the mist.

  “Right,” Harper said.

  “Well, at least we’ve one advantage. We know where he’s headed,” I said.

  Harper lifted a finger. “Sorry about this,” she said then turned and gripped the trunk of a nearby tree. A second later, she vomited violently and loudly.

  I shook my head then stepped toward the fen.

  “Oh my god,” Harper whispered after a moment.

  I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and handed it to Harper. “Here,” I said, patting her on the back, which only made her vomit again.

  After a moment, she said, “Don’t tell Agent Hunter. Promise me,” Harper said. “I’d die of embarrassment.”

  I chuckled. “I won’t, but you need to head back to the house and see to Lord Cabell.”

  “And where are you going?”

  I cast my eyes back out on the moor. “Out there.”

  Chapter 15: Of Romans and Druids

  Retracing the path we had taken with Mister Aaron, I headed out the back gate and onto the road. At three in the morning. In a bank of fog. Chasing a werewolf who did not appear to be entirely friendly. Or dapper. Or charming. And probably didn’t smirk.

  I thought about slipping my night optics on but knew their green glow would give me away in the darkness. Relying on the dim light of the moon penetrating the mist, I headed out onto the moor.

  My heart beat hard as I made my way, listening to every rustle in the brush, feeling the world around me with my senses. Working in the city was one thing but working in the country was quite another. I was used to the occasional tart popping out of an alley or a thief thinking he could make a go for my pockets, but a bolting deer or a rustling bunny somehow sounded just as deadly when you couldn’t actually see what was out there—knowing still that something in the mist wanted to kill you.

  As I walked, I felt the presence of the otherworld swimming around me. There was something heavy in the air, a strange sort of energy I had never encountered before. For the briefest of moments, I felt confused, lost. Part of me wanted to turn back. There wer
e strange, ethereal voices in the mist whispering to me.

  “It’s here.”

  “Turn here.”

  “Turn now.”

  “Come.”

  “Too far.”

  “Go back.”

  “Turn left.”

  “Turn right.”

  I couldn’t tell if the voices were speaking aloud or if I heard them in my own head. But what I did know was that strange power that lived inside me resisted their instruction. The deep, secret thing within me kept my feet firmly on a steady path forward. Yet the further I walked from Cabell Manor, the more the whispers spoke, giving me repeated and contradicting instructions.

  I paused a moment in the swirling mist and gazed around me. The shadowy fingers of dead trees were silhouetted in the moonlight. Everything had an eerie bluish glow. From somewhere across the fen, a creature barked—a fox? Its strange voice reverberated through the mist.

  Maybe this was a bad idea.

  It wasn’t that I was frightened, but there was something happening here I didn’t understand. My skin had risen in gooseflesh, my palms and feet tingling. The magic here was so heavy, so thick, I could almost taste it.

  “Go back,” a voice said. This time, however, the voice did not hold the same ghostly quality. It was firm and strong.

  I turned and watched as a woman in a long robe, her face mostly hooded, appeared from through the fog. She walked with a tall, hooked staff. She had a strange silvery glow about her. All the hair on the top of my head rose, and a shiver snaked through my body. As the woman drew closer, I realized I could not hear the sound of her footfalls. The mist parted before her.

  I lifted my gun and aimed at her.

  “Go back, Agent Louvel.”

  “Who are you?”

  “No one. But you must go back. It is only that light living inside you that is keeping you safe from the whispers on the wind. The heavy magic here is intended to confuse. It’s working its charms on you. For the moment, it’s failing. But only for the moment.”

  “Confuse me? Why?”

  She chuckled lightly. “It’s nothing personal. The charms are meant to confuse anyone, really. But they were originally intended for the Romans.”

  “The Romans.”