Wolves and Daggers_A Steampunk Fairy Tale

by Melanie Karsak

  “Yes. We work under the auspices of Her Majesty on cases such as the one in which you find yourself the unfortunate victim.”

  She took another swig. “Those creatures… There are more of them, aren’t there?”

  “Yes.”

  “And they walk amongst us? Look like ordinary people?”

  I smiled softly, wondering how she would feel if she knew that it was her squash partner—a werewolf—who’d asked me to find her. “Yes. But they aren’t all bad.”

  “No?” she asked with a huff as if she didn’t believe me.

  “Well. I mean, most of them are bad, but not all of them.”

  She laughed lightly.

  To my surprise, the airship turned away from headquarters and began to fly in the direction of Buckingham. Only when an agent had made a horrible mistake did the Queen summon them. This shift in course did not bode well. As the ship neared the palace, I braced myself. Clearly, I was in for a lecture.

  The airship docked on the platform on the roof of the palace. A fleet of attendants arrived from the palace to steady the ladder.

  “Agent. Your attendance is requested,” the agent of the Rude Mechanicals told me and the professor.

  “Guess I’m out of a job,” I said lightly.

  “Hope it’s not as bad as that,” he said then extended a hand to help the professor down. I followed along behind her.

  I dropped onto the roof of the palace and looked around. The small crowd assembled was mostly comprised of palace servants. But amongst them were also two armed guards and a Society agent.

  “This way, Agent Louvel, professor,” the Rude Mechanicals agent said then led us into the palace.

  We walked down the narrow servants’ halls to a flight of stairs. We wound down one flight of stairs after another, after another, and after another. I soon realized that we were, in fact, underground. The air was crisp and had the distinctive perfume of earth.

  At the end of the stairs, the footman opened a door.

  I was surprised to find Agent Greystock waiting in the hallway on the other side.

  “Clemeny. At last. Are you all right?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Yes. I’m fine. This is Professor Paxton.”

  “Good evening, professor. My name is Agent Greystock. Are you well? Do you require any medical treatment?”

  “No, madame. I’m just… I’m just in a state of shock, I believe.”

  “That is to be expected. Please, come along,” she said then motioned for us to follow her.

  “Is there any word on Quinn? I sent a message back to headquarters. He was taken to a Doctor Murray in Mayfair,” I asked.

  Agent Greystock nodded. “I’ve had couriers there and back. He arrived in time to receive emergency medical attention. Doctor Murray, though retired, did what he could. Quinn is alive. In pain, but alive. Clemeny, how did you know about Doctor Murray?”

  “I didn’t. Professor Paxton did.”

  “I’ve studied some of his treatments, his essays on disease, his work with the late Master Hawking. He is well known in the medical community as the brightest surgeon in the realm.”

  “Agent Briarwood is lucky for your quick thinking and his quick delivery to the doctor’s address,” Agent Greystock said then raised an eyebrow at me.

  “I believe Agent Rose will be following up on that…complication.”

  “Indeed. I was saddened to learn about Agent Reid. He was a good man and a good agent.”

  “Fenton’s handiwork.”

  Agent Greystock frowned.

  “Has anyone sent word to Jessica?” I asked. “She will be worried about Quinn.”

  Agent Greystock nodded. “I’ve sent someone to fetch her. The Murrays have been very obliging,” she said then opened a door. “If you please,” she said then motioned for us to enter.

  Professor Paxton and I entered the room to find Agent Harper, Agent White, and Agent Fox. And Her Majesty.

  Professor Paxton let out a small gasp.

  Both of us stopped and dropped into a curtsey.

  “Yes, yes. Dispense with formalities, please. Agent Louvel and Professor Paxton, correct?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Professor Paxton and I said in unison.

  Victoria smirked then looked back down at the papers she was holding in her hand. “Agent Louvel, Agent Greystock has apprised me of the events leading up to the ruckus at Guildhall the other night. I’ve also heard the report on the events that took place tonight. All a bit murky, I’m afraid. Can you please tell me what’s happening in my realm?”

  “Your Majesty, I can only tell you what I have observed. There is a werewolf amongst the packs I have never seen before. He is old—even for a wolf. The others call him Doctor Marlowe. He appears to have some skill with mage work in addition to the lupine affliction. He is the one behind this mess.”

  “Him. Not Cyril?”

  “Is Cyril—pardon my interruption, Your Majesty—a huge man with red hair?” Professor Paxton asked.

  “Indeed he is,” Victoria replied.

  “He was there at the factory. He was working with Doctor Marlowe, but the doctor was the one organizing our research. Cyril, I believe, was the person who captured the gentleman you called Constantine.”

  “So this Doctor Marlowe is using the packs for muscle. Any sign of Constantine after all this mess?” Victoria asked Agent Greystock.

  “Not since he delivered Agent Briarwood.”

  “Make sure Agent Rose follows up. The wolves lifted Constantine from his castle in Scotland. We must make sure all our other assets in that division are secure.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Agent Greystock said.

  “I know Agent Rose will be keen to join Agent Louvel and murder every wolf in the city—not that I blame her—but let’s make sure she stays focused on looking after her own charges.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” Agent Greystock said with a nod.

  I chewed the inside of my cheek as I watched Her Majesty flip through the papers. I was shocked to see that she knew all our names, our assignments. I had always assumed that working as part of Her Majesty’s Secret Intelligence Service was really just a title. In this case, it seemed the Queen did know who we were and what work we were doing.

  “Professor Paxton, perhaps you can enlighten us on what, exactly, Doctor Marlowe had you working on.”

  “Alchemy, Your Majesty. He had us studying the interactions between various metals and flesh and blood.”

  The Queen’s forehead furrowed. “Whatever for? A philosopher’s stone?”

  The professor shook her head. “He’s not after gold or even the transmutation of metals. He had us studying silver,” she said then frowned. “I didn’t understand why at the time. But I think… I think he was looking for a way to use an alchemical formula to fortify the blood—their blood—against silver. But it was no use. I was able to make some headway in determining the weakness in their humours, those peculiarities that make them particularly susceptible to silver, but without Doctor Jamison’s work on the alkahest, we were able to do little.”

  “That’s unfortunate then,” Her Majesty said.

  “Unfortunate? Why?” I asked.

  “Because Professor Jamison was abducted from the safehouse on the Isle of Dogs earlier this evening,” Her Majesty said.

  “Werewolves’ longevity is only cut short by two things, a natural death many hundreds of years in the making and silver. If the wolves can find a way to become immune to the effects of silver…” I said.

  The Queen nodded. “Then we have a very big bad wolf problem,” she said then turned to the professor once more. “Can it be done?”

  “Perhaps. Like an inoculation. Our research in the course of disease is insufficient, Your Majesty. Based on Doctor Jenner’s research in smallpox, we have applied the theory of inoculation to many forms of disease control. But it’s still quite far beyond our understanding. And yet…”

  Her Majesty raised an eyebrow at the professor
.

  “And yet, Doctor Jamison’s study from an alchemical point of view, using the theories of the Magnum Opus and the four pillars of alchemy is something I have not explored, but it does offer possibilities.”

  “Your Majesty,” Agent Harper said, rising. The stack of books before her was so tall that I had nearly forgotten she was even there.

  “Yes?”

  “This Doctor Marlowe. Clem—Agent Louvel said she had not seen him before. We have record of a practicing mage, Kit Marlowe, who banished by the Rude Mechanicals in 1593. Our records indicate he went into exile in Italy and hasn’t been seen in England since.”

  “Kit Marlowe… Christopher Marlowe, the playwright?” Agent Greystock asked.

  “The same,” Agent Harper answered.

  “Marlowe,” the Queen said with a sigh. “Seems his characters weren’t the only ones looking for a Faustian bargain. Well, Agent Louvel, the werewolves are seeking to enhance their immortality by dodging your silver bullets. And this time, they have a mage pulling the strings. Whatever shall we do?”

  “Whatever Your Majesty commands,” I said.

  Queen Victoria smirked. “I like this girl,” she said then turned and pulled out two sheets of paper. Snatching a quill, she jotted notes on both then melted wax and embossed each letter with her seal. She turned back to us once more.

  “Agent White will take Professor Paxton to our secure location in Nottingham for the time being,” she said then looked at the agent, who nodded. She handed one of the notes to me. “And that, Agent Louvel, is your license to use lethal force. The Britannia Accord is hereby suspended. Find that mage and kill him. I’ve had enough of Cyril and Fenton as well. Agent Greystock will send agents to keep a lid on the Lolitas and arrest every other werewolf we can find. And you, Agent Louvel, will deliver this letter on my behalf.”

  I took the second sealed letter from her hand. “To whom, Your Majesty?”

  “Lionheart. Go tell Sir Richard he needs to set aside his research for the moment. After all, God has waited this long for him to finish his quest. He can wait another fortnight,” Her Majesty said. “Tell him I call my Templars. They will help you. That is an order from his Queen,” she said then tapped the letter in my hand, giving me a knowing look.

  I nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Sir Richard? Do you mean Richard Spencer is…” Professor Paxton began, looking from Her Majesty to me.

  “Please, professor. Come with me,” Agent White said, motioning for the professor to follow her.

  “I… Okay,” she said then turned and followed Agent White from the room.

  “If you don’t mind me saying so, Your Majesty, Sir Richard has no interest in becoming alpha, nor does he have the temperament,” I said.

  “Indeed, he does not, but we shall leave it to him to find a peaceful solution to that problem.”

  Clever Queen. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  I curtseyed to her once more then turned to Agent Greystock.

  “With your permission, I’ll accompany Agent Louvel out,” Agent Greystock said to the Queen, who nodded then turned back to the papers on her desk. Agent Greystock motioned for me to follow her outside.

  “If you see Quinn, please tell him…I said to rest and not to worry,” I told Agent Greystock.

  “You know your partner well. I understand he was inquiring after you,” Agent Greystock said.

  “What’s there to worry about? I’m off to go work with a werewolf to take down a different werewolf. What could possibly go wrong?”

  Agent Greystock looked at me, the answer evident in both of our eyes.

  Everything.

  Chapter 11: The Knights Templar

  Once again, I took the tram back across town to Fleet Street. This time, however, I made a turn off the main thoroughfare through a small arch along the street, barely noticeable under the façade of a Tudor townhouse next to a bookshop. Given it was dawn, the shopkeep had just opened the curtains on the window of the little bookshop when I slipped through the arch.

  I emerged on the other side in Temple Square, the home—hidden in plain sight—of the Knights Templar.

  Of course, everyone knew the Kights Templar were long gone. The gardens, church, hall, and buildings of Temple Square were just remnants of a past history, of knights of both good and bad repute, the knights of the crusades. Such men, for better or worse, were long gone. Right?

  But the thing was, of course, that was about as far from the truth as one could possibly get. Some of the Templars had returned from the crusades, but not as they once were. Something had happened during their quest, and the Templars had changed, become afflicted with the lupine infection. The Templars still lived, but they were no longer just men.

  Taking a deep breath, I crossed into Temple Square. I eyed the grounds warily. Her Majesty might be right that the Templars would be inclined to follow any edict she set down, but such an edict delivered via a Red Cape might not be welcomed. As I passed through the square, I spotted one man headed toward Templar Hall, no doubt for his morning meal. He stopped mid-step and eyed me warily.

  Wolf.

  Another man who had just started work in the flowerbeds also gave me a sidelong glance.

  Another wolf.

  I felt eyes on me from above, looking down on me from the windows.

  The palms of my hands itched. I had literally walked into the wolves’ den.

  Well, I’d made the first move. We’d see what would happen next.

  Just off the square was the Templar church, a small building distinctive for its rotunda. While the church was nothing to boast about in comparison to the grandeur of Saint Paul’s, it must have been considered an awe-inspiring structure in the twelfth century when it was built. I opened the wooden door of the church and entered. The place was completely still. Slants of light shone in from the windows high above. It did not escape my notice that the church appeared to have had some newly refurbished architectural pieces. I passed the massive pillars and went under the dome in the round part of the cathedral. Here, the tombs of Templar Knights lay on the floor. I paused to look down at the regal figures immortalized in stone. The Templars had gone off to fight at the behest of their monarch. They were from a different time and under a different set of circumstances. But were they really any different from myself? They were the crown’s warriors. And so was I.

  A door at the back of the chapel opened.

  I inhaled deeply and waited as the sound of footsteps approached me.

  “You do know it’s very uncomfortable for me to come in here,” Lionheart said.

  I looked up at him.

  He was visibly clenching his jaw.

  “Yes. I do know that. That’s why I’m here. I figured it would be the safest place in the square.”

  “If you wanted to be safe, Agent Louvel, then coming into pack territory was probably not a wise idea.”

  I pulled the paper the Queen had given me and handed it to Lionheart. He looked from the paper to me then frowned and opened the missive. I watched his face as he read it over, his features darkening.

  When he was done, he looked up at me.

  “Her Majesty formally requests the assistance of the Templar pack. She has asked that you set aside your research and aid me in ending Cyril’s reign, tracking down and murdering Fenton, and destroying a wolf mage by the name of Kit Marlowe who, apparently, is attempting to use alchemy to develop a tolerance to silver. Her Majesty has revoked the Britannia Accord and threatens to expel all werewolves from London. Unless, of course, you can assist me in getting this situation under control.”

  Lionheart grunted in a very wolf-like manner, a sound I had never heard from him before. The veneer of the college thrown off, I was starting to see that Sir Richard Spencer was far more wolf than he let on. He shook the paper in his hand as he considered my words, and those of Her Majesty.

  “Byrony Paxton is safe. She has been taken to a secure location. Your brothers had her chained up, forced
her to carve up goblins, my partner, and a fang named Constantine. Ever heard of him?”

  “You must be joking.”

  “And, I believe, that mage also had some designs on her person. I was able to recover her from your brothers, but not without losing Agent Reid. And Agent Briarwood has been seriously wounded. Did your brothers tell you the scope of the activities they were planning under their new mage?”

  “They are not my brothers,” Lionheart said, temper flaring. “These are my brothers,” he said, motioning to the men entombed before us.

  My ruse had worked. “The Templars did the bidding of King Richard. You were agents of the crown. I do the bidding of Queen Victoria as an agent of the crown. I know you to be royalists, but do you still consider yourselves Her Majesty’s agents?”

  “Of course we do,” he said hotly.

  “Very well. I guess that makes us brothers then. So, no more research for now. Now, we work together.”

  “She has called her knights. We cannot say no. So, Agent Louvel, how do you suggest we begin?”

  “We need to find Cyril, Fenton, and Marlowe. The Red Capes will be arresting everyone else they can get their hands on today, and Lolitas will be locked down.”

  “In that case, you need to give me a couple of hours. I need to meet with my pack.”

  “Very well.”

  “You mentioned the vampire Constantine. I have had some dealings with him in the past. I cannot believe Cyril would be foolish enough to move against him.”

  “Foolish or not, that’s exactly what he did. Many Lupercal pack members paid the price for that mistake. But, I believe, the vampire has retreated.”

  Lionheart shook his head. “I doubt that very much.”

  “We shall see. Very well, Sir Richard. You talk to your pack, and I’ll meet you at one o’clock at The Mushroom.”

  “The Mushroom? Why there, of all places?”

  “Because if you want to buy information, you need to know the best place to shop.”

  Lionheart raised an eyebrow at me.

  I looked once more at the tombs of the fallen Templars. “I am sorry for your many losses,” I said then inclined my head toward the knights.