The Blood Alchemist Chronicles

by Alexia C. Praks

  To Daniella’s left sat Ren, his arms folded across his chest as he stared silently into space, a cup of hot green tea before him. In front of her, on the other side of the table, sat Shin, chewing a steamed bun with vigor.

  “Ye must eat, dear, even if ye can’t. Ye’re too thin for me liking,” Mrs. Green said, before she presented them a big loaf of bread, as if it were some type of trophy. “Ain’t ye worry your wee self about John and Mistress Maiko. They’ll be fine,” she said, before leaving Daniella alone to her misery.

  Though the array of delicious food was before her eyes, Daniella couldn’t eat. All she could think about were her friends; now detained at Scotland Yard.

  Shin, after he had finished with his lovely breakfast, leaned on the table across from her and rested his weight on his elbows. “There has to be a way,” he said, cocking his head to one side. “We could sneak in and break them out.” He suggested.

  “Aren’t you forgetting about Sir Arthur Fielding and his army of police?” Ren said mildly, as a reminder.

  Shin nodded as he pulled his face. “Ah, yes.” He managed to chuckle uncomfortably. “I forgot about that.”

  “What to do, what to do?” Daniella groaned, slumping her head on the tabletop in misery.

  “Dan,” a manly voice called out from the distance.

  Daniella eagerly turned her gaze to the door. There, she saw four dandies, all dressed in their usual brightest and oddest of colors. Though the recent fashion for the man-about-town in Mayfair of London was sober black in a sharp, clean-cut style, these four men liked to dress like the dandies of the older days, when their garments were bright. They were the Masters of Disguise gang. The name explained it all. They could dress up as peasants, servants, farmers, and even noblemen from France. They would look the part, and more importantly, they would act the part to perfection.

  The leader was a twenty-six-year-old man named Tristan Kensington. He was tall, with ash-blond hair, pale-blue eyes, and broad shoulders. Daniella considered him the handsomest amongst his gang, and so did everyone else, especially the girls who seemed to always flirt with him whenever they had the chance. Daniella found it rather amusing, and she’d usually intervene by shooing them away and telling Tristan to behave himself, just for the fun of it. As for Tristan, well, he just smiled and went along with it.

  Today, he was dressed in dark trousers that fit his strong, muscular legs perfectly, dark coat with gold trimming, and starched white cravat.

  The one standing to Tristan’s left was Michael Westmore, twenty-four years of age. Michael had dark-blond hair with dark-brown eyes, though he was not as tall nor as muscular as Tristan. Today he was dressed in dark-grey breeches, bright-orange coat, and bright-red cravat.

  The one to Tristan’s right was Jude Chan, a twenty-five-year-old Chinese-English man, with dark-brown hair and eyes. He was, perhaps, the most expressive through fashion. Today he was dressed in dark-green breeches with a dull-yellow coat and starched white cravat.

  And lastly, the one standing at the back was Chris Peterson, also twenty-five years of age. He was very handsome with chocolate-brown skin, jet-black hair and smoky dark eyes. Of the four, he was the smallest, though he was not small on brain power. The method of deduction was his specialty. He loved science and mathematics, and would sneak into Oxford University to read at night. Today, he was dressed in grey breeches with white coat and purple cravat.

  What odd combinations of colors indeed, Daniella thought, as she gazed at them. They looked like peacocks.

  “Our Dan here is in big trouble,” Shin said, leaning back against his seat opposite her.

  Tristan and his team filed in through the dining room door and took their seats around the table. Tristan took a chair on Daniella’s right. He tousled her hair, which was his usual greeting, before making himself comfortable. Then he proceeded to cross one leg over the other and fold his arms across his chest.

  “We heard,” he said. “Master Romano and Master Li have requested our help.”

  Daniella sat up straight and turned to Tristan. She asked, her eyes bright with new expectation. “Have you figured out a way to help Maiko and John yet?”

  “We have just been out,” Jude said, pouring himself a cup of tea.

  “And?” Daniella probed.

  Chris chimed in. “John and Maiko are being detained at Scotland Yard, waiting for the verdict. Of course, they could be transferred to Newgate Prison, soon.”

  Michael said, “There is a possibility they could be executed immediately, without a fair trial, if they were found out... ahem...” He cleared his throat. “As paranormal beings.”

  Daniella widened her eyes and stood up so abruptly that Shin jumped back in surprise, and Jude, who was sitting next to Ren on Daniella’s left, coughed and sputtered hot tea into the air.

  “I won’t let them,” she said firmly. “We have to do something.”

  Jude calmly wiped his mouth and bright cravat, and then proceeded to pour himself another cup of tea.

  Tristan said, “Calm down, Dan. Let’s not jump to conclusions. Maiko and John know the drill. They won’t risk giving themselves away so easily.”

  Daniella nodded in agreement. However, because she was inexperienced in dealing with cases such as this, she was still panicking. “But ’tis likely they could be executed. They have stolen jewelry and are the suspects in the murder. Those nobles are quite ruthless.”

  “Yes, they are indeed,” Tristan said. “Furthermore, they have the influence and the connection.”

  “I have to go and see the earl’s eldest son,” Daniella said. “I know he has the power to release them. But how? I cannot go to his house and barge right in. The footmen will throw me out; or worse still...” She thought about the dead maid, knowing very well they assumed she was a suspect in the murder.

  “Breaking into Hasting House to meet up with this Lord Zachary Hasting will be difficult,” Tristan said. “You would probably get thrown into Scotland Yard, or worse, Newgate Prison, if you were to get caught.”

  Daniella nodded.

  “It’s odd.” Ren started, staring at his steamy cup of Japanese tea.

  “What’s odd?” Daniella turned to him.

  “That the earl is responsible for the shooting. During his own birthday party?”

  Daniella frowned and bit her lip. “It is odd, isn’t it? I thought so, ever since I overheard them that night. Why? Why would the earl hire those two to shoot the king of Darnia?”

  “If you ask me,” Michael put in, “sounds like a trap.”

  “Aye, you’re right, Michael,” Chris said, nodding as he reached for the hot rolls. “It’s too simple a plan and the evidence was too easy to obtain.” He bit into his bread. Leisurely, he chewed, his mind turning over the possibilities.

  “You three were there. What did you hear?” Jude asked.

  “We were at the window,” Daniella said, thinking back to two nights ago when she, Ren, and Shin had been hiding and listening to the group questioning the woman in the magenta gown in the study. “What we heard was not very clear. But I did see Lord Hasting doing something to the woman. I think her name is Mrs. Turner.”

  “What did you see him do?” Jude asked.

  “He used his pocket watch and swung it back and forth in front of her. It was very odd but certainly powerful. Mrs. Turner just nodded off the next second, as though she were in a trance.”

  “What happened?” Jude asked further, eyeing her with interest now.

  “Mrs. Turner answered every question he asked her,” Shin supplied.

  “Mind control!” Chris said, nodding.

  Daniella turned to look at Chris. “Mind control?” she repeated.

  “Yes, or hypnotism,” Chris replied. “It’s very powerful if the person knows how to do it properly. It takes years to learn. Very good on stubborn suspects who refuse to tell the truth. It plays with psychology, I believe. It is in some of the psychology books I’ve read in Oxford’s library. Although, I
seem to remember the text states the method has limitations.”

  “So, you believe this hypnotism works?” Daniella asked.

  “Yes, to a certain extent. I have seen it in use before. The subject in the trance acts as a puppet, answering and doing things the hypnotist requests.”

  “But if Mrs. Turner answered all the questions, then she must be telling the truth,” Daniella commented.

  “Aye,” Tristan said, nodding. “Unless...”

  “Unless,” Ren continued for Tristan, “the person who is behind the whole plan wants Mrs. Turner to believe the earl is behind it all—when he isn’t.”

  Daniella nodded in understanding, her eyes glinting. “You’re right!” she said. “So the culprit behind it all is not the earl, but someone who is his enemy and wants him charged for treason or murder. But why? What for?”

  “Business, mayhap? Politics. Who knows?” Michael volunteered.

  “You’re right. Perhaps it is business. Or politics?” She turned to Tristan and said, “We need to find out. What could this person gain by doing such a thing?” Daniella paused for a second, and suddenly, something triggered in her mind. “He’s a demon!”

  “What?” Tristan looked at her.

  “That night I followed the male culprit into Hyde Park. He met up with another man, and that man is a demon. I saw him killing our culprit. Ren was there with me.”

  Ren nodded. “A high demon to be precise. He’s powerful. I felt his life qi. Not someone to get on the wrong side of.”

  “This is more complicated than I thought,” Tristan said.

  “We need to find out who this high demon is,” Daniella said. Then she added, “He’s one of the five who murdered Louisa.”

  At this revelation, the whole room went silent and a morbid mood developed. Daniella noticed the change in atmosphere and said, “I’m sorry I brought that up.”

  Tristan said, “It’s all right, Dan. It looks like we have no choice but to take this one down, eh?”

  “Our job will never be done,” Jude said matter-of-factly, and looked rather pleased about that. They all knew he loved hunting down and killing the night creatures, especially ones that had done a lot of murders, and most especially ones that had hurt or killed any of their own.

  “I’ve heard the second Lord Hasting is having a party,” Chris put in, his tone one of disapproval. “He is hiring those trash women from Madam Rosé’s.”

  Ren looked at Chris. “Madam Rosé’s women, did you say? The second Lord Hasting is having a party when his father is in prison?”

  Chris nodded.

  “What type of son is he?” Daniella asked.

  “The type that doesn’t care,” Shin said, nodding. “I heard he drinks a lot. A rake, too, by the sound of it. Every mama in London is keeping their precious daughters away from him.” He even shivered in distaste. “I heard he has eccentric taste in women.”

  Daniella turned to Chris and asked, “Wait a minute. This party the second Lord Hasting is having, it is in Hasting House?”

  “Aye,” Chris said.

  Daniella folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes twinkled as they always did when she concocted a mischievous plan.

  Shin saw her and knew she was up to something. “What’s in your mind, Dan?”

  Daniella turned to Tristan and said, “You, my lord of acting, and your lovely team will help get me into Hasting House.”

  “What for?” Chris asked.

  “To see the first Lord Hasting,” Daniella replied. “I will convince him to release Maiko and John.”

  “How?” Michael asked.

  “I’ll take one of Madam Rosé’s women’s place.”

  “You mean we get to go to Hasting House and entertain?” Chris asked with brows raised.

  “Yes,” Daniella said, nodding confidently.

  Ren chuckled and asked Daniella, “You volunteer to replace one of Madam Rosé’s women?”

  Daniella pointed at herself, nodding confidently. “Yes.”

  Ren said, “Do you even know what they look like?”

  Jude shook his head. “You won’t fit, Danny. You’re too small.”

  Daniella pulled a face. Indeed, she knew she was too flat chested to pull off masquerading as a beautiful woman from the Red-Light District. But surely, with a bit of makeup...

  Tristan said, “We’ll disguise ourselves as Madam Rosé’s women. Don’t worry, Dan. We’ll get you into the house.”

  Daniella cocked her head to one side. “How? You’re all men.”

  On cue, the four Masters of Disguise started laughing. Shin, on the other hand, shook his head in exasperation.

  “They’re drag queens, Dan,” he explained. “Madam Rosé’s women are men in women’s outfits. Like I said, that vile Lord Connor Hasting is queer. His eccentric taste is beyond anyone’s understanding.” He pulled his face in distaste. “And just so you know, I’m not volunteering and I will not dress in women’s gowns.”

  Tristan narrowed his eyes and said, “You’re the star Shin. Sorry, but you have no choice in the matter. Master Romano’s instruction was you and Dan will aid in the rescue of Maiko and John.”

  “What? No way!” Shin was flabbergasted. “I refuse.”

  Jude said, “Blame it on your pretty face, Shin. You’re exactly to Lord Connor Hasting’s taste.”

  Shin paled at the thought and had to gulp down some more tea while everyone around the table laughed. Daniella, however, was clueless as to what they found so amusing when Shin looked as though he were about to faint.

  * * *

  Hasting House

  Noblessen (plural) or Noblesse (singular): Individual with inherited magical powers. They need life qi for their strength and power. Some extremely powerful noblessen are immortal.

  Lucian Pendragon, Noblesse

  * * *

  Three days had passed since the occurrence of the unsavory affair during his father’s birthday party, and Zach had been, as predicted, utmost busy. Of course, his hectic schedule was predominantly comprised of dealing with sympathetic callers—or rather, the gossipmongers of society—who were eager to hear the full, juicy details of what had transpired that night. Indeed, they felt they must hear such tantalizing tales from the lips of those who had a first-hand encounter of the unfortunate and ghastly incident. These people happened to be the family of the now-infamous earl himself, the prime suspect of the attempted murder of King Francesco II.

  Zach personally would have preferred to leave all these tedious matters to his uncle, George Anderson, Jeremy’s father, and Jeremy himself, who was rather excellent at dealing with people in situations such as this. However, as the heir to the Hasting Empire, he had no choice but to bear it and welcome the streams of seemingly endless guests with the handsome smile he had gotten used to wearing since he had been a boy. If he had a choice, he would rather be out and about doing the fieldwork, investigating, and putting his plans into action.

  Now, after the last guest had departed for the night, he was in desperate need of some time alone to reflect and gather his thoughts.

  “Finally,” Uncle George said, eagerly taking a seat beside the brightly lit hearth. “We can relax. I hope there will not be too many callers tomorrow, because I honestly cannot handle much more of this chitchat. Useless occupation I dare say.”

  George Anderson, who had been married to the late Lady Elizabeth Hasting, younger sister of Stephen Hasting and aunty of Zach and Connor, was an introverted sort of man. Currently, he much preferred to spend most, if not all, of his time doing his research on the origin of the Claymore traits and, of course, working on his clever and useful inventions that would aid his son, nephews, and their private team in dealing with their dangerous business—exorcising the abomination of demons.

  Regarding the unfortunate affair where his brother-in-law was the prime suspect of an attempted murder, he had not heard of it until he returned to London from his home, Oakley Manor, one day ago. He had been away for two weeks, mourni
ng the death of his beloved wife Elizabeth, which he had done annually since that night seven years ago when a high demon of French origin had slaughtered her in front of his eyes, back in the Kingdom of Darnia.

  “Cheer up, Father,” Jeremy said, patting the man’s shoulder fondly. “It’ll be over soon.”

  “I do hope so,” Uncle George said. “Because I do have to finish another unique gadget very soon, and I cannot waste any more time pampering some thoughtless guests who are only here to seek information about Stephen—just to spread it about the town and tarnish his name. It’s distasteful I tell you.”

  “It is, unfortunately, the way of our world,” Jeremy said mildly, pouring himself a glass of port.

  Uncle George eyed his son and said, “You are drinking too much, Jeremy my boy. Believe me when I say it does unpleasant things to your liver and intoxicates your blood and your brain. It affects your abilities to transmute blood.”

  Jeremy chuckled at his scientist father. “I’m only drinking socially, as you know, but damn, I can’t help myself tonight. Listening to old women going nonstop about how horrible the incident is, that it is probably a mistake, and how unjust it is for Uncle Stephen to be in prison tired me. Of course, I’d rather interrogate a stubborn suspect than have to deal with these people.”

  Sitting opposite his uncle by the hearth, Zach cocked his head to one side as he eyed his cousin. “Oh? And here I thought you rather enjoyed their company, since they seem quite fond of you.” He grinned and asked, “And by stubborn suspect, are you referring to the enchantress Mistress Miro Maiko? Or rather, Miro-dono, which I believe is how you address her.”

  “Miro is her last name, no?” Jeremy asked, more than a little confused as to how these Japanese people referred to one another. But then again, people from other cultures would say the same to the English peerage. The system and form of address was rather complicated.