To Catch A Rogue (London Steampunk: The Blue Blood Conspiracy Book 4)

by Bec McMaster

  What the hell had he meant by that?

  "Gemma and Obsidian are mine," the woman said coldly, her voice dragging Lark back into the present. "They killed Ghost and I want—"

  "You will do as you are told, Dido," Balfour interrupted. "Ghost's arrogance is what got him killed. He thought he could take matters into his own hands instead of sticking to the plan, and now he is dead. And I'm not done with Obsidian yet."

  Lark pressed her ear frantically against the cabinet door. Obsidian? What did he have to do with all of this?

  "He's my insurance against certain arrogant princes who think they can control events. And speaking of arrogant aristocrats.... How is my good friend Malloryn holding up?"

  "Malloryn's tucked away nice and safely where they'll never find him," Dido replied.

  "You're keeping a tight leash on Jelena?"

  "Malloryn's a blue blood, Balfour. He can survive a great deal."

  "Good. Because I want him to live to see me crush everything he's ever built. I'd love to pay a visit, but circumstances being what they are.... Do give him my regards."

  "Oh, I shall." Dido's heels marked her as striding toward the door. "Have fun with your little schemes here."

  The door clicked shut, presumably behind her.

  Crystal chinked as Balfour poured himself a brandy. "There's nothing little about them, my dear."

  "That was spectacularly close," Lark whispered, as Charlie opened the cupboard she was tucked inside and helped her unfold. Every nerve in her body was on edge, and her vision ran a little dark around the outside, as if the hunger of the craving had awoken within her.

  "I thought he'd never leave."

  Balfour had rifled through some papers and drank his brandy before finally leaving. Lark had practically held her breath as she listened to the odd step-thump of his cane as he left the room.

  "Well, at least we know Malloryn's not here at the palace," Lark pointed out. "That's a start."

  "And he's still alive."

  Lark heard the rough edges in his voice. "You weren't certain?"

  Charlie eased out a breath. "Obsidian said they wouldn't kill him, but I had my doubts."

  She opened her mouth, and then swallowed. "What was Balfour saying about Sergey Grigoriev? And Obsidian?"

  Charlie waved a hand at her, cocking his head as if listening to something. Stillness settled over her. All she could hear was her own heart pounding.

  He strode to the window and shoved the curtains wide. "It sounded as though Dido was going to pay Malloryn a visit."

  Later. You can ask him later.

  Right now, she needed to focus on the immediate danger.

  "Any sign of her?" Lark joined him by the window.

  Charlie shook his head. "No. But she's only got a ten-minute head start on us. Why don't we go see if we can discover where she was going?"

  There was no time to alert the others.

  Lark and Charlie slipped through the palace, searching for the pale, blond dhampir agent. Dido wouldn't have gone through the gardens; half the ball was gathered on the back terrace still viewing the fireworks.

  "Here." Charlie slipped an earpiece out of his pocket and tucked it in her ear, sweeping several loose curls down over it to hide it. He clipped the other piece to her necklace, where it glittered like a pendant. "Ava, can you hear us?"

  Nothing but static came through the earpiece. Lark winced. "I've got nothing."

  "Ava?" he called softly.

  "Charlie?" a startled voice asked.

  The young woman was shuttered in her room with Kincaid, using the device the Rogues' resident weapons-expert in London had created to keep track of them all. She could only listen to one communicator at a time, and the range was limited, but it was better than nothing.

  Lark breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. "Got her."

  Charlie swiftly relayed what they were up to.

  A few low-pitched whining noises came through the earpiece, and then Ava was back. "Kincaid saw her heading for the stables. The servants have been readying a steam carriage."

  "We're going to see if we can plant a tracking device on the carriage," Charlie said. "Tell Kincaid to keep an eye on her from a distance."

  "Stables are this way." Lark strode toward the eastern end of the house, unhooking the bottom half of her gown as she went. She wore a thin pair of tight breeches beneath them, though the bustle remained. Flipping what was left of the skirt around, she turned it into a long, dark cloak.

  "Nice," Charlie mused.

  "Gemma provided it, after all. There are all sorts of modifications to her gowns."

  Pressing her back to the wall, she surveyed the stable yard and started using sign language so the dhampir wouldn't hear them. "Two footmen near the stables. The target's pacing by the carriage. Another guard watching over it."

  "No chance of getting near that carriage then?"

  Lark flashed him a grin. She was starting to feel like her old self again. "Dare me?"

  His hand snagged around her wrist, his face suddenly serious.

  "Charlie."

  Leaning closer, he brushed a curl behind her ear. "Maybe it's not worth it. There'll be other chances."

  "Who are you and what have you done with Charlie?" Lark breathed, turning her face close to his ear. "The boy I knew would be flipping a coin to race me."

  His thumb stroked lightly across the inside of her wrist, as he barely dared whisper, "The boy you knew died the night he rocked you in his arms, begging you to start breathing again."

  The revolution.

  The night Tin Man died.

  Slowly, her smile faded, her heart stuttering to a halt. That night had torn her entire life apart, but perhaps she hadn't been the only one. There was a look in his eyes, far too serious for her to recognize.

  "I'm not going to be hurt," she signed, her heart starting to beat again. "I promise. Look. There are only four of them. Do you have that tracking device?"

  Charlie passed it over. "We're not going to be able to get near that carriage."

  "You're not. You're too big and noticeable. Which makes you an excellent diversion."

  "Lark."

  "Go." She shoved him in the back. "I'm faster than you. I'll have the beacon attached to the bottom of the carriage before you can even blink."

  "As you wish."

  Then he was vanishing into the shadows.

  Pressing her back to the arch, Lark cocked her head and listened. There was a part of her that mourned the loss of the boy he'd been. She wasn't quite certain she knew this new Charlie, with his thoughtful eyes and pensive expression.

  And she wanted to.

  "He's half in love with you," Gemma had said.

  Lark closed her eyes. Don't be a fool.

  The seconds ticked out.

  Then a minute.

  Lark couldn't hear a damned thing, but the hounds in the stables started baying. The guard stood to attention, focusing on the back of the stables.

  "What the hell is going on?" Dido strode toward the stables, a glint of steel flickering in her hand.

  Lark was never going to get a better chance than this.

  The sound of the boilers on the steam carriage masked any sound she might make. Lark crept forward just as a horse bolted from the stables.

  "God's eye!" One of the footman cursed in Russian.

  Nobody was looking in her direction.

  Lark burst into a run, sprinting toward the carriage. She threw herself beneath the wheels, rolling until she was well beneath it. Steam hissed from the back exhaust, providing some cover.

  Where the devil was the best place to plant it?

  Ava had said there was a two-mile range on it.

  Hooves clattered on the cobbles. Another horse streaked past, and now both footmen were yelling. The yard was a cacophony of excitement as horses milled and snorted, on edge enough to make catching them difficult.

  Lark attached the device carefully and pressed her fingers to the communicat
or. "Tracking device is in place, Ava."

  "Are you clear?" Ava replied.

  "Enough of this nonsense!" Dido appeared out of nowhere, her boots visible from beneath the carriage. "Are the boilers ready?"

  Shit. Lark dragged herself up beneath the underside of the carriage, hooking her legs up. This was not ideal, but the dhampir was faster and stronger than her, a trained assassin who wouldn't hesitate to cut Lark down if she caught a glimpse of her. She braced her shoulders in the narrow gap beneath the rear axle and the floor, the pressure on her arms relaxing.

  "Yes, mistress," stammered a nervous footman, jerking the carriage door open.

  "Then get me the hell out of here."

  Lark glanced toward the stables. There were three sets of boots in her view. The carriage rocked as Dido leapt up into it. The door slammed, and then one of the footmen climbed up on the back of the carriage.

  This... might be a problem.

  Lark ground her teeth.

  Once they were out in the countryside she'd be able to roll clear and hope the footman was distracted.

  But right now....

  "No, I'm not clear," she whispered, and hoped Ava might be able to hear her. "I'll jump free as soon as I can."

  And then the carriage rolled forward, and Lark clung on for dear life.

  Chapter 9

  "Lark?" Charlie whispered.

  There was no sign of her as the brakes squealed and the steam carriage rumbled past his perch in the hayloft of the stables. He peered out the window. He'd been watching ever since he set the horses loose, and she hadn't reappeared.

  She was under that carriage still.

  He just knew it.

  That left only one option.

  He had to go after her.

  It was six miles to the outskirts of Saint Petersburg, and Lark had little choice but to remain where she was, thanks to an outrider that had joined the column as they left the palace grounds. Imperial guards lingered at checkpoints into the city, smoking cheroots and stamping their feet, as the carriage rolled past. Clearly, they recognized the golden embossed marque on the doors proclaiming the House of Feodorevna and didn't dare stop them.

  By the time the steam carriage hit the cobbled streets and slowed, she was shivering with cold. Only the heat coming from the rear boilers kept her from falling loose.

  Charlie would follow. She had absolutely no doubt about that. There was a tracking device, and if he managed to keep within a two-mile radius, he'd find her. He'd get past the guards, because he knew how to avoid eyes.

  Right now, she was undetected, and as long as she stayed that way, she'd be fine.

  The outrider surged ahead all of a sudden and Lark saw her chance.

  Lowering herself slowly, she caught a glimpse of a carriage coming in the other direction.

  Hitting the ground, she waited until the carriage rumbled on, and then she rolled into the nearest alley. It was all over in seconds, and as she sat there panting, she listened for the sound of outcry.

  Nothing.

  Hauling herself to her feet, she caught a glimpse of the steam carriage turning a corner. Time to finish tracking Dido from a safer distance.

  "I thought you'd never catch up," Lark called, and Charlie hauled his horse to a halt in the streets as she stepped out of nowhere, shivering beneath her brown skirt-cloak.

  "Are you... insane...?" He could barely catch his breath. He'd been galloping the horse hard, trying desperately to track the carriage before he lost sight of Lark.

  His heart was pounding fit to burst out of his chest, and all he'd been able to picture was Dido getting her hands on Lark.

  And here she was, looking none the worse for wear.

  He was going to kill her.

  Or maybe kiss her. He wasn't quite certain.

  "Of course I'm not insane. I stayed with the carriage until several streets back, and then slipped away when I sensed they weren't looking. Then I tracked them here. We couldn't afford to lose them." Lark glanced at him. "When did you learn to ride a horse?"

  It wasn't the sort of education one gained in the rookery. "My father paid for lessons when I was younger."Swinging down off the gray gelding, he patted the big fellow's sweaty flanks and started leading him to cool him down. "Which way?"

  "That house right at the end of the street, near the canal. Dido's carriage vanished under the arch into the stable yard and nobody's left the building since."

  Charlie considered the place. It was painted a salmon pink color, but all the windows were dark. He'd long since learned what an empty house felt like. "Ready for a little breaking and entering?"

  "I don't exactly have my tools."

  He tugged his waistcoat open, revealing his lock pick set in an inner pocket. "Amateur. Let me stable the horse so he doesn't get a chill from his sweat, then we'll do a little reconnaissance."

  "I'll wait by the Bridge of the Four Lions. Make sure no one leaves."

  It took him nearly ten minutes to find a place to leave the horse. The boy who took his coin understood only every third word he clearly mangled, but at least he was gentle with the horse.

  And if he stole it, well... it belonged to Balfour anyway. Good luck to him.

  By the time he returned to the bridge, guarded by its marble lions, there was no sign of Lark.

  A pebble hit him in the back of the head.

  He spun around, and there she was, hauling herself up onto a nearby rooftop three houses down from their target.

  Charlie joined her.

  "No guards on the roof," Lark whispered. "I've seen one man in the streets, but no one else."

  "So either Malloryn isn't here, or they're really good."

  "Preference?"

  He considered it. "Malloryn not being here."

  Because if the guards were good enough that neither he nor Lark had spotted them, then they were both dead.

  Both of them squatted in the shadows and watched the house for ten minutes.

  "Where?" Lark asked.

  "Third floor, fourth window across. Lock's old, windows are dusty, and there are cobwebs."

  "Excellent choice."

  He knelt by the edge of the roof and cupped his hands. "Ladies first."

  Lark ran at him and leaped into his hands. He tossed her up, and she flew through the air. The second she landed on the narrow ledge, she caught hold of the frame of the window.

  Sometimes he just enjoyed watching her in action. She'd always been half-cat, but now she was a blue blood, she took agility to new lengths.

  Then it was his turn.

  Lark rose up on her toes to peer through the window as Charlie inched along the ledge.

  "Want me to fetch a bucket for you to stand on so you can see through the window?" he whispered.

  She punched him in the ribs.

  "Hey! It's not my fault you stopped growing when we were fifteen." He clapped a hand to his side.

  "It's not my fault you shot up like a beanpole."

  Charlie shot her a mild look. "I filled out."

  Lark ground her teeth together. "So did I."

  And quite nicely too.

  "I've noticed."

  That earned him a long, slow look. Then she returned her attention to the job. "Do you get the feeling this is too easy?"

  Charlie started feeling the lock with the lock pick. "My guess is this is a shell. There's probably a tunnel beneath the house, leading elsewhere."

  "Or it's a trap."

  "Always the pessimist." The lock popped and Charlie froze.

  Nothing moved. No noise came from within.

  "Ready?"

  "When you are."

  Lark was right. Breaking in was easier than expected.

  Charlie slid the window up, and then slipped over the sill. He turned and offered Lark a hand.

  Her nose wrinkled. "What's that smell? It stinks like the fish wharves after a hot day in the sun."

  Charlie breathed in and instantly regretted it. "It smells like something died in
here somewhere."

  They shared a look.

  "Dead bodies," Lark whispered. "My favorite."

  They slipped through the upper story, silently searching rooms. Then they stole downstairs. The smell seemed to be everywhere, as if someone had dragged the body through the entire house.

  But why the hell would they—?

  Charlie stopped in his tracks in the middle of the foyer as the scent fused with his memories. The heat drained out of his face. "Oh, shit."

  "What?" Lark whispered.

  A door slammed shut behind them.

  Charlie spun around, flipping both razors into his hands. He could hear dozens of doors slamming shut throughout the house, and locks bolting as if the entire house was on some sort of mechanized timer.

  "It's not a body," he hissed. "It's a vampire."

  Heels stalked across the hallway at the top of the stairs, and moonlight glimmered on silvery hair as Dido strode into view. Claws skittered on the timber floors beside her, and Charlie swallowed when he saw what yanked on the leash at her side. He could smell it even from here, the rotten flesh scent almost making him gag.

  Dido had a vampire on a leash.

  Both of them took a step back.

  "What have we here, Ivan?" the dhampir woman purred. "Trespassers?" She stalked along the upper balcony toward the elegant stairs that curved down to the lower level. "Perhaps... a pair of eavesdroppers listening in where they shouldn't have.... Did you think I would lead you directly toward your precious duke?"

  It had been a trap from the start.

  Both Balfour and Dido must have known they were in the study.

  The vampire hissed as it caught their scent.

  "Charlie," Lark whispered in a hoarse voice.

  Charlie couldn't take his eyes off the creature. It wasn't the first time the Company of Rogues had faced vampires; when Byrnes and Ingrid were trying to track Zero, the first dhampir terrorizing London, she'd had several of them on leashes. They'd killed a number of them, but Byrnes had admitted they'd been lucky.

  Both of them wouldn't be able to escape. But maybe one of them could. "You need to run."

  "Like hell."