STEP TWO

Situate Yourself in an Advantageous Location

Faith and her maid (and her rocks) made their way through the Customs House of Hyde Park dirigible embarkation green, which proved itself to be much less intrusive than their initial welcoming committee. Not quite as attractive, it must be admitted, but Faith preferred comfort over beauty. Or so she told herself.

She and her papers were given no more than a cursory glance. Apparently, customs officials felt that her walking suit passed muster as sufficiently respectable, for all that it sported divided skirts. Take that, Mr Vampire-with-the-critical-eyes!

Outside the customs house, the landing green resembled nothing so much as a countryside racetrack. Faith looked back at it, to see the tall blond figure of the vampire still messing around with her former airship and its personnel. She pitied the other passengers now facing his cool regard and patted her specimen case in a sympathetic manner.

She paused a moment to watch. He moved very gracefully for a big man, but then again, his was more a dancer’s physique than a pugilist’s. She found she preferred that in a man. In her limited experience (which had all been with werewolves), supernatural creatures were brutes. That vampire had seemed a pill, and considering his comment on her eyes, possibly a rake. But he didn’t seem a brute. Although one never knew with immortals.

She looked around.

A large, flashy Isopod steam transport drew up. It was decidedly doodlebug-like in appearance but cheerful rather than creepy. It disgorged two ladies as alike in appearance, dress, and manners as to be twins, had the one not been twice the age of the other.

The younger of the two bustled over, approaching Faith with a sweet smile and eager step. Her face looked a little as if it had lost a bet with a chipmunk over the ability to stuff food into its cheeks, then got stuck. She had the rosy glow of the very robust or the overindulgent. Faith assumed, by her age (which was near Faith’s own), that it was the former.

“Miss Wigglesworth?” the stranger said, eyes inquiring under a daring turban-style hat.

Faith smiled back, prepared to like this unknown cousin, who did not seem at all reluctant to meet her. Maybe she has not learned of my disgrace.

“Yes. Are you Miss Iftercast?” Faith offered her hand to shake.

The young lady (who might or might not be Miss Iftercast) looked at the proffered hand in confusion. Then suddenly brightened. “Oh, dear me, no, we don’t do that here in London. No offense, of course, cultural differences and all that rot. Now, where were we? Oh, yes, I am indeed Miss Iftercast. Only, could we not do that bit? I mean to say I am jolly delighted to make your acquaintance at last, dearest cousin! I’m determined we shall be fast friends. Your given name is Faith, is it not? Tell me, may I call you Faith right away? It’s such a lovely name.”

Miss Iftercast had a pleasant breathy way of speaking and an accent only slightly less toothy and properly British than that of the unpleasant vampire. Faith was beginning to think this was the vocal styling of the uppermost crust of London society.

Faith, who hated her name, could not but respond to such warmth. It had been ages since anyone had actually been happy to see her. She was practically moved to tears. Especially after such an aggravating and embarrassing encounter over her rocks. Miss Iftercast had barely even glanced at the split skirts, either. It was a miracle welcome.

Faith marshaled her resources. “Feel free. And you are Theodora, I think. Yes?”

“Yes, I mean no. I mean to say, that’s my proper name, but everyone calls me Teddy. And you simply must call me Teddy, too. Oh, I do adore your accent, it’s divine.”

“My accent? Oh, but it is you who have such a way of speaking vowels. So calming.”

Teddy gave a tinkling laugh. “Mums says I’m too posh for words after they sent me to finishing school. And I said, well, what did they expect, wasting my time with elocution lessons when I could have been riding? I’m a great horse enthusiast, you see? And I can hunt like anything. Mums says I’m too sporting by half – overly horsey. Do you ride?”

Faith blinked under this diatribe. “Yes, I sure do. Although I’m not as good as you, I suspect.”

“That’s quite all right, no one is.” Teddy’s grin took the bragging out of the words. “Daddy says I’m a holy terror. I’m always challenging my beastly brothers to race hither and thither, which of course I shouldn’t now that I’m out and all grown up and on the marriage mart. I mean to say, what man would want a girl who can out-jump him at a mark?”

“A gentleman in possession of a large stable?” suggested Faith.

Teddy chuckled. “Oh, you are droll!”

Faith wished to make it clear from the start that she would hold her own, defend her friends, and be unswerving in her opinions. So, she added, “I think that any man who felt threatened because you could outride him is too fragile in his self-confidence to warrant a single second of your attention.”

Teddy glowed. “Oh, we are going to get along splendidly! I’ve no sisters, you see. Surrounded by beastly brothers all my life. I cannot wait to have you stay with us. Charles is away on the Grand Tour, which will mean even numbers in the house at last!”

“Theodora, darling, sweetheart,” called the voice of the older woman who could only be Mrs Iftercast. “Do bring our dear cousin along now. Do not keep her chatting out in the cold. She must be perfectly exhausted. All that horrible floating about.”

Teddy whirled and linked her arm with Faith’s. “Oh, how silly of me, so inconsiderate. You will learn soon enough that I am rather of an enthusiastic nature and I sometimes forget myself in my excitement. You seem more reserved. Or is that the shock of meeting me?” Teddy wore a dark brown velvet walking dress with embroidered daisies about the skirt and sleeves. She was much shorter than Faith, but bouncy with it. Sturdy and fit as opposed to slender. Probably all that riding. Her waist was trim, displayed admirably by a wide white sash. Or maybe that was an illusion made manifest by her sleeves, which were truly enormous. They brushed against Faith’s elbow as they moved together towards the Isopod.

“I think you’re adorable,” said Faith, honestly.

Teddy beamed at her and then presented her to her mother. “Mums! This is Faith. She’s a corker. I’ll just go see the luggage stored and join you inside.” She disappeared around the side of the conveyance with Minnie in her wake.

Faith’s maid paused. “Should I rescue the case this time, miss?”

Faith shook her head. “No, thanks, Minnie. I’m sure it’ll be fine now.”

“Yes, miss.”

Mrs Iftercast helped settle Faith inside the Isopod. It proved to be as flashy inside as out, with velvet-covered seats and the latest crank windows. Mrs Iftercast had the same open, friendly, rosy-cheeked visage as her daughter, only with wrinkles. Her hair was the same light brown, only with streaks of grey. He eyes were the same merry coffee color. She did not, however, seem to talk as much.

“How do you do, my dear? Welcome to London. Was your passage perfectly ghastly?”

Faith smiled and shook her head. “It was nice, actually. I like floating.”

Mrs Iftercast shuddered. “Sooner you than me. Has my girl talked your ear off already? She is a terrible nuisance.” This was said in tones of great affection.

“She’s big on riding, I understand?”

“Horse-mad.”

“We all have our interests. I myself collect rocks.” Faith thought that, given what had so recently occurred, she should make this clear from the start.

Mrs Iftercast did not look at all shocked. “Do you indeed? How novel. Well, that, at least, you can keep under wraps. Theodora will insist, the moment an outing is suggested, that she ride, that she ride well, and that she challenge anyone willing to a race. Rocks, at least, are less arduous in public.”

“I see what you mean. I don’t need to mention them at all and I can collect in comparative privacy. Although occasionally, on a picnic, you may find me drifting about and pocketing a sample.”

“There, you see? I can already tell you will be far less troublesome than my harridan of a daughter.” Which answered that question. These distant relations clearly knew nothing of Faith’s indiscretion, disgrace, and subsequent humiliation. The Atlantic was more vast than Faith had realized. Or these relations were much more distant.

Teddy rejoined them and Minnie climbed in behind her.

Faith asked, “How exactly are you related to me, again, Mrs Iftercast? Mother didn’t say.”

Mrs Iftercast frowned. “You know, I am not entirely certain. I believe your father is my husband’s second or third cousin.”

Teddy nodded. “Something like that.” She tapped the ceiling of the conveyance with the handle of her parasol. “Steam on, James!”

The machine rumbled to life around them with a hissing sound so loud, it made conversation impossible, until moments later, they were humming through the park. Faith tried not to gawp out the window. Land’s sake, she thought, these relations of mine must be rich. What an impressive way to travel!

Teddy asked, “Was the depuffing smooth? We have had these horrible winds lately.”

“Very.” Faith smiled at her. “Although there was something going on at the embarkation area when I landed. BUR was there. I think it’s called BUR.”

Teddy’s eyes sparkled with interest. “They were investigating something nefarious? Oh, were they there to catch some malcontent? Was it a crime of some kind? A murder? An unsanctioned feeding, perhaps?”

Faith shook her head. “I don’t think so. They were looking for some kind of object. They took my specimen case away from me, and opened it, and displayed the contents in front of everyone.”

“Oh, how horrible! What an abysmal welcome for you, poor child. I shall write a sternly worded letter of complaint to the government as soon as we get home.” Mrs Iftercast was clearly upset on Faith’s behalf.

Faith blanched. “Please don’t worry, cousin. It was just disconcerting. I think, well, I believe, that the gentleman who took my case was a vampire.”

The two ladies perked up at that.

“Oh, really? I didn’t think any of them could stretch their tether so far into Hyde Park.” Teddy sucked her teeth in thought. “Unless it was a rove, of course. And they usually go to Rotten Row. Which one was it?”

Faith hadn’t realized there were so few vampires in London that each would be known by name. Like the nobility. How extraordinary!

“Well, he was tall and blond and handsome, with pale blue eyes.”

Teddy pounced. “Do I detect a tendre?”

Faith held up a horrified hand. “I describe with artistic objectivity, not interest. He was rude, and probably a rake, or something like.”

“My dear girl,” said Mrs Iftercast, “all vampires are rakes. That’s what makes them so interesting. But I think you must be mistaken. There aren’t many blonds amongst the old-blooded these days. Lord Akeldama, of course, but you would have a great deal more to say if it were him. Everybody does. Are you convinced he was a vampire?”

Faith frowned. “Well, I assumed. It was something one of his men did, sort of indicated he was a supernatural creature. He was so pale, and aware of his own importance, I figured that indicated vampire. I’ve never met one before, so I’ve no basis for comparison.”

The Iftercasts looked at one another.

Teddy said to her mother, “Perhaps… do you think?”

“He is head of BUR these days. But if he were down at the green, supervising things himself, it must be a very important object they were looking for. Very important.” Mrs Iftercast sounded serious and interested.

“You know the gentleman?” Faith probed.

Teddy grinned at her. “When you said handsome, did you mean so good-looking you slightly wished to die right then and there, or offer yourself in sacrifice, but also not at all, because he likely would kill you without flinching and he certainly, without a doubt, would ruin your reputation?”

Faith nodded. “Yes, that’s about right.”

“Eyes so cold, you suspect they may cause frostbite?”

“You do know him.”

Mrs Iftercast rolled her own eyes. “Theodora dear, so poetic. Do I detect a new hobby? You should take up verse. It would be so much less trouble than riding.”

“No, Mums. Horses forever! But even you must acknowledge his beauty.”

“Everyone acknowledges it. That is partly what is wrong with the man.” Mrs Iftercast waggled her head in exasperation.

“What’s the rest of what’s wrong with him?” asked Faith.

“He is a werewolf, dear, not a vampire.”

“A werewolf? But he looked so…” Faith stuttered. “…so civilized.”

“Civilized? Major Channing? My darling girl, he’s more than civilized, he’s practically a politician. But not for you, I’m afraid. Your mother mentioned she thought you might do for a werewolf, but that particular one is unacceptable. I don’t see why you must set your cap at any of them, mind you, but if you insist, I will see what I can do for you. Ordinarily, werewolves prefer widows or spinsters, but you’re so pretty, we might find a way around that inclination. But, dear, don’t you want a family of your own?”

Faith felt a slight roaring in her ears. I did. I did want one. Once.

Mrs Iftercast was sensitive to her discomfort. She reached across and patted her knee. “Not to worry, cousin. I am certain you will do very well. London is lousy with werewolves these days. Several members of our London Pack are eminently eligible and quite stable. Although not Major Channing, dear. He is far too much of a bother.”

“Major Channing.” Faith rolled the name about her tongue. “I figured he might’ve been in the military once.”

“All werewolves serve, my dear, did you not know? But the major served longer than most and likes his officer’s rank. He is not active at the moment. The London Pack is remaindered out of the Guards right now because of their new Alpha. They gave Major Channing BUR to keep him occupied. He’s a restless sort. There are different kinds of werewolves. Major Channing is not the marrying kind.”

Faith didn’t know if she was relieved by this fact or perturbed. She resolved to put the exasperating man out of her mind and enjoy her new situation. The Iftercasts seemed friendly and chatty and nice. The fact that she was in London to net herself a werewolf husband seemed to be accepted as perfectly appropriate. She herself seemed to be accepted as such.

Faith felt, for the first time in years, almost happy.

Major Channing returned home to his pack shortly before dawn. Falmouth House was comparatively quiet, the children were abed (yes, there were children now, much to Channing’s continued annoyance). The rest of the pack were not yet returned from their various errands of business or pleasure. The clavigers were all gone to sleep. He’d missed the final meal of the evening, but he thought he might rustle up something out of the pantry if he were lucky and Cook was feeling generous.

He followed his nose and found a pork pie. On it was pinned a note that read, For tomorrow’s supper, absolutely not to be eaten. This means you, Major! He cut himself a generous slice and sneered at the note.

He smeared his helping with hot mustard and quite enjoyed his feed, huddled in the dark kitchen like a beggar in his own home.

The gloom suited his mood. He was disappointed that the search had proved fruitless. He was also discomfited by the young American and her blue eyes and direct address. The two had combined to make him rather grumpy. Not that this was particularly abnormal for him.

No one disturbed his wallowing. He thought he might even make it to his chambers without having to actually speak with anyone – pack, claviger, or staff. I should return home at this hour more often.

Unfortunately, his Alpha found him, heralded by the comforting scent of sandalwood and pomade.

“Channing, how are you this evening?”

Biffy was an odd kind of Alpha. Slender, with a fencer’s physique and lacking the bulk and height endemic to most werewolves, let alone Alphas. He was impossibly stylish, or perhaps one might say practically impossibly stylish. Werewolves were not known for their elegance of attire, for obvious reasons. When one was prone to stripping and turning into a slavering beast, one did not, as rule, care to invest too much in one’s clothing. Channing cared so little, for example, that he missed his days as a soldier, when his attire had been chosen for him.

Biffy was not like this at all. He cherished deeply held feelings on his outward presentation. He’d spent years creating a pomade strong enough to keep his unruly werewolf mop under control. Then he’d made a mint selling it on Bond Street with his face sketched on the jar labels. He was young; perhaps that accounted for a certain foppishness. Some might say too young. He was, after all, only twenty years or so a werewolf, and barely half a year as London Pack Alpha.

But Biffy was a strong Alpha; every wolf could feel that. The tug on Channing’s tether was sure and steady. It grounded him in a way he hadn’t felt in years. He was embarrassingly grateful for the relief and the surety of that connection. He was gruff with his Alpha because he was gruff with everyone, but also because he felt safe.

Biffy didn’t seem to mind.

Channing had challenged Biffy, of course, when Biffy first seized control of the London Pack. It was Channing’s right and his duty as pack Gamma to cry challenge. Biffy had neatly defeated him, without fuss or too much bloodshed, and taking long enough for it not to appear embarrassingly easy. Stylish even in battle. They were both content with the outcome.

Sandalio de Rabiffano might look like an unthreatening popinjay, dandified and inconsequential, but as a wolf, he was unbearably fast and freakishly strong. He’d struggled initially, of course. Too young to control such a large and powerful pack. There had been a time there when they’d all felt unmoored and lost. Their Alpha had doubted himself, and so he doubted them, and so the pack doubted themselves. But then their pack Beta, Professor Lyall, had returned home. And now all was peaceful and safe, even with two human toddlers roaming about the den. (Channing still wasn’t sure how that had happened.)

It wasn’t that Channing necessarily disliked children. He simply didn’t like the memories they incurred. Another life. Another time. He’d rather his past stayed where it belonged, drowned by the weight of decades.

Biffy sat down across the kitchen table from him and watched him eat his pie.

Channing did not offer him any.

“How’d the Sundowner investigation go?” Biffy was careful not to touch the tabletop for fear of flour smudges on his lovely grey suit.

“How do you always know BUR business, Alpha? Sometimes I think you know it before I do, and I’m the head of the division.”

“You know my training. I maintain many of my connections… from before. You know I don’t like things messy. I don’t like to be confused or uninformed.” Strumming under Biffy’s confession was Alpha possession and Alpha control. My city, the tether said to Channing. My people. My responsibility.

In his other life, Biffy had trained as a spy under the greatest vampire intelligencer of them all. But that was before his metamorphosis. He didn’t work for the vampires anymore but he still craved information. The blood-suckers had instilled in him a desire that his mortal death had not cured. Biffy liked knowing what was going on in London. And in the world. He needed to know things. Recently, he’d begun training the pack to gather such knowledge for him. Of course, he already had Riehard, who was one of the best. But Biffy also had other contacts. No doubt one of them was at BUR.

“I should clean up my offices,” said Channing.

“You know it wouldn’t be effective.”

It annoyed Channing to no end when Biffy did that. Channing would tell his Alpha about his job, if asked. But Biffy never asked for details on BUR operations. He searched things out using more secretive means. He also never asked Channing for his loyalty. It’s almost as if he thinks I’ve none left to give. Perhaps he is right.

Channing gave his Alpha the information anyway; it was all he had to offer. “Trail turned cold in Hyde Park earlier this evening. I suspect the contraband never left Boston.”

“Pity. You could have used a fresh supply.”

Channing inclined his head but didn’t answer, because he was chewing.

Biffy leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes slightly. “Something else happened, didn’t it? In the park tonight.”

“Did it?”

“I felt you waver.”

“Did you? I didn’t think we were so intimate that you could sniff out my feelings at a distance like that.”

“A tether is a tether, Channing. You cannot fool me with that icy facade. You hurt deeper and harder than any of the others, so I feel you pulling at me the most.”

“Do I? Do you? I shall try to control myself better.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

Channing laughed, cold and sharp, a burst of pain bleeding out of his mouth. “You’ve no idea what you’re asking for, Alpha.”

“No, I don’t. But you keep it all so close, tight to yourself. That’s not pack. That’s loner behavior. It pulls and frays and aches. You’re hurting yourself and you’re hurting us. I don’t want to lose you, Channing. You’re a prat but you’re my prat.”

“Have you asked Lyall or the others? Do you know why?”

“I do. But it’s not worth shutting yourself off from us because of what she did.”

“Pack may not be enough to hold me? Is that what you’re saying?” Channing’s greatest fear tore at his throat, making his voice ragged.

“No, but I think it’s what you believe. You could let it go, you know? I’m strong enough now, even for you.”

Channing finished his slice of pie and cocked his head at his pretty young Alpha. “You’re a child.”

Biffy cocked his head back. Wolflike, mirroring his movement – sympathetic, strong, and present. He did not rise to the bait.

Finally, the Alpha said, “It won’t break me, Channing. If you let me take on some of it. If you let her go, just a little.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.”

“No, it isn’t, is it? People think because you are cold that you feel nothing. When in fact, it’s quite the opposite.”

“Don’t accuse me of being deep, Alpha. And stop meddling – you’re like a gossipy grandmother. Now that you’ve established yourself, you want to see the rest of us tied down and subdued.”

Biffy flashed his sweet smile. “I’d settle for seeing you happy.”

“You are a confounded romantic.”

“Guilty as charged. So, what happened to twinge our tether?”

“There was this irritating American.” Channing had no idea why he confessed even that much. Sometimes, it was hard to hide from an Alpha.

“An American, was it? Pretty?”

Channing glowered at him and refused to elucidate further.

Biffy only nodded to himself in that irritating way he had. “Very pretty, I take it. Was she—” Suddenly, the Alpha’s head went up, nostrils flaring.

Channing instantly tensed. What was it? Loner in their territory? Break in one of the others’ tether? Attack? Battle?

The expression on his Alpha’s face went from concerned sympathy to incandescent joy. “Lyall’s home.”

Channing snorted at him.

Moments later, Professor Lyall slid quietly into the room. One eyebrow rose in inquiry at the sight of Channing and his pork pie remnants chatting alone with the Alpha in an unlit kitchen.

“Channing, how are you this evening?” The Beta’s nondescript face was carefully neutral, although there was something to his eyes that suggested he was actually amused to find them thus situated.

Channing pointed at Biffy. “Take him away, Randolph, do. He’s getting nosy again.”

Professor Lyall came up behind their Alpha and ran his fingers through the young man’s dark brown hair. Biffy leaned into the caress, closing his eyes briefly like a contented cat.

Channing groaned. “Stop it. I just ate.”

Biffy grinned. “You’re only jealous.”

Channing rolled his eyes, stood up in a huff that was only partly simulated, and stormed out of the room. Jealous. Of course I’m jealous. And it wasn’t even the love, or the contentment, or the easy affection that drove a spike into what was left of Channing’s heart. It was that he’d set himself on this path and had walked it with confidence for decades, chosen to be solitary, because it seemed easier and he was lazy and afraid. And now he was trapped.

A pair of blue eyes, like lapis, had shaken him out of it for one sharp moment. His Alpha had felt it, that tiny shift. That opening of the trap. And Channing wanted to escape – he desperately wanted escape. Except that the pain of the iron teeth holding him back was all he knew now, and he was a coward.

Get yourself together, Channing, old man, she’s a bloody American. She is not for you. And you most certainly are not for her.