Read Online Changeless: The Parasol Protectorate: Book the Second by Gail Carriger - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gail Carriger
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possible.”
“Then why would it simply disappear?”
Conall rubbed his face with his large callused hand. “I do not know. Werewolf legends are kept in the oral tradition, from
howler to howler. We have no written edicts. Thus, they shift through time. It is possible the plague of the past was not
so bad as we remember or that they simply did not know to leave the area. Or it is possible that what we have now is some
completely new form of the disease.”
Alexia shrugged. “It is at least as good a theory as our weapon hypothesis. I suppose there is only one way to find out.”
“The queen has placed you on the case, then?” The earl never liked the idea of Alexia undertaking field operations. When he
first recommended her for the job of muhjah, he thought it a nice, safe political position, full of paperwork and tabletop
debate. It had been so long since England had a muhjah, few remembered what the preternatural advisor to the queen actually
did. She was indeed meant to legislatively balance out the potentate’s vampire agenda and the dewan’s military obsession.
But she was also meant to take on the role of mobile information gatherer, since preternaturals were confined by neither place
nor pack. Lord Maccon had been spitting angry when he found out the truth of it. Werewolves, by and large, loathed espionage
as dishonorable—the vampire’s game. He’d even accused Alexia of being a kind of drone to Queen Victoria. Alexia had retaliated
by wearing her most voluminous nightgown for a whole week.
“Can you think of someone better suited?”
“But, wife, this could become quite dangerous, if it is a weapon. If there is malice behind the action.”
Lady Maccon let out a huff of disgust. “For everyone but
me.
I am the only one who would not be adversely affected, and, so far as I can tell, I seem to be essentially unchanged. Well,
me and one other type of person. Which reminds me—the potentate said something interesting this evening.”
“Really. What an astonishingly unusual occurrence.”
“He said that according to the edicts, there exists a creature worse than a soul-sucker. Or perhaps it
used
to exist. You would not know anything about this, would you, husband?” She watched Conall’s face quite closely.
There was a flicker of genuine surprise in his tawny eyes. In this, at least, he appeared to have no ready answer carefully
prepared.
“I have never heard talk of such a thing. But then again, we are different in our perceptions, the vampires and the werewolves.
We see you as a curse-breaker, not a soul-sucker and, as such, not so bad. So for werewolves, there are many things worse
than you. For the vampires? There are ancient myths from the dawn of time that tell of a horror native to both day and night.
The werewolves call this the
skin-stealer
. But it is only a myth.”
Alexia nodded.
A hand began gently stroking the curve of her side.
“Are we done talking now?” the earl asked plaintively.
Alexia gave in to his demanding touch, but only, of course, because he sounded so pathetic. It had nothing, whatsoever, to
do with her own quickening heartbeat.
She entirely failed to remember to tell Conall about his former pack’s now-dead Alpha.
Alexia awakened slightly later than usual to find her husband already gone. She expected to encounter him at the supper table
so was not overly troubled. Her mind already plotting investigations, she did not bother to protest the outfit her maid chose,
replying only with, “That should do well enough, dear,” to Angelique’s suggestion of the pale blue silk walking dress trimmed
in white lace.
The maid was astonished by her acquiescence, but her surprise was not sufficient to affect her efficiency. She had her mistress
smartly dressed, if a tad too de mode for Alexia’s normal preferences, and down at the dining table in a scant half hour—a
noteworthy accomplishment by anyone’s
“Then why would it simply disappear?”
Conall rubbed his face with his large callused hand. “I do not know. Werewolf legends are kept in the oral tradition, from
howler to howler. We have no written edicts. Thus, they shift through time. It is possible the plague of the past was not
so bad as we remember or that they simply did not know to leave the area. Or it is possible that what we have now is some
completely new form of the disease.”
Alexia shrugged. “It is at least as good a theory as our weapon hypothesis. I suppose there is only one way to find out.”
“The queen has placed you on the case, then?” The earl never liked the idea of Alexia undertaking field operations. When he
first recommended her for the job of muhjah, he thought it a nice, safe political position, full of paperwork and tabletop
debate. It had been so long since England had a muhjah, few remembered what the preternatural advisor to the queen actually
did. She was indeed meant to legislatively balance out the potentate’s vampire agenda and the dewan’s military obsession.
But she was also meant to take on the role of mobile information gatherer, since preternaturals were confined by neither place
nor pack. Lord Maccon had been spitting angry when he found out the truth of it. Werewolves, by and large, loathed espionage
as dishonorable—the vampire’s game. He’d even accused Alexia of being a kind of drone to Queen Victoria. Alexia had retaliated
by wearing her most voluminous nightgown for a whole week.
“Can you think of someone better suited?”
“But, wife, this could become quite dangerous, if it is a weapon. If there is malice behind the action.”
Lady Maccon let out a huff of disgust. “For everyone but
me.
I am the only one who would not be adversely affected, and, so far as I can tell, I seem to be essentially unchanged. Well,
me and one other type of person. Which reminds me—the potentate said something interesting this evening.”
“Really. What an astonishingly unusual occurrence.”
“He said that according to the edicts, there exists a creature worse than a soul-sucker. Or perhaps it
used
to exist. You would not know anything about this, would you, husband?” She watched Conall’s face quite closely.
There was a flicker of genuine surprise in his tawny eyes. In this, at least, he appeared to have no ready answer carefully
prepared.
“I have never heard talk of such a thing. But then again, we are different in our perceptions, the vampires and the werewolves.
We see you as a curse-breaker, not a soul-sucker and, as such, not so bad. So for werewolves, there are many things worse
than you. For the vampires? There are ancient myths from the dawn of time that tell of a horror native to both day and night.
The werewolves call this the
skin-stealer
. But it is only a myth.”
Alexia nodded.
A hand began gently stroking the curve of her side.
“Are we done talking now?” the earl asked plaintively.
Alexia gave in to his demanding touch, but only, of course, because he sounded so pathetic. It had nothing, whatsoever, to
do with her own quickening heartbeat.
She entirely failed to remember to tell Conall about his former pack’s now-dead Alpha.
Alexia awakened slightly later than usual to find her husband already gone. She expected to encounter him at the supper table
so was not overly troubled. Her mind already plotting investigations, she did not bother to protest the outfit her maid chose,
replying only with, “That should do well enough, dear,” to Angelique’s suggestion of the pale blue silk walking dress trimmed
in white lace.
The maid was astonished by her acquiescence, but her surprise was not sufficient to affect her efficiency. She had her mistress
smartly dressed, if a tad too de mode for Alexia’s normal preferences, and down at the dining table in a scant half hour—a
noteworthy accomplishment by anyone’s
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