God Save the Queen (The Immortal Empire) (7 page)

I grinned at the genuine surprise in his voice. “You’re the one who taught me, old man.” It was odd, but when I fought Church, I felt like I was stronger than I’d been before, when in actuality I was most likely weaker. I’d forgotten to take my morning dose of supplements. This forgetfulness wasn’t like me – proof of how preoccupied I was with Dede. Did they give halvies their supplements in Bedlam, or were they allowed to weaken, making them easier to control? I didn’t want to think about it.

Afterwards, when Church had dismissed his students and we were alone, he gave me biscuits and made me coffee in his office – a large oak-panelled room stuffed with books and trophies, photos and stacks of papers needing to be marked. An old stained-glass lamp stood in the corner behind his desk. I picked up a framed photo taken on my graduation day. In it he had his arm around me, both of us grinning like idiots, while I held up my diploma and letter of acceptance into the Royal Guard. It had been the happiest day of my life.

I was the only student he had a photo of in his office. He used to have one of Rye, but put it away after the murder.

“You didn’t come all the way here just so I could show off to my students,” he remarked good-naturedly, giving my shoulders a squeeze before seating himself in the brocade wing-back chair behind the sturdy desk. “What’s wrong?”

He knew me too well for me to bother trying to sugar-coat it. I put the photo back and took a chair on the other side of the massive desk. “I heard a disturbing rumour and you’re the only person I can think of who will tell me whether or not it’s true.”

He steepled his fingers against his mouth. “All right. What is it?”

I cradled my coffee in my hands. The caffeine and sugar were already dancing in my blood. “Is Dede in Bedlam?”

He stared at me a moment, his expression suddenly grave. There was no need for him to speak – I could see the answer in his eyes – but he chose to do so regardless. “Drusilla’s predicament is something you should discuss with His Grace.”

I hated it when he used my father’s higher rank as a way of avoiding talking to me. He did it when Rye died as well – even though he had been the one who had been there when it happened.

“I want to discuss it with
you
. You won’t diminish or leave out details you think I’m too fragile to hear.”

He glanced away, but almost immediately turned his attention back to me. Church always looked me in the eye. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out, but yes, I’m afraid your sister is in Bedlam.”

It wasn’t a shock. Inside I had known he’d reiterate what the goblin prince had already told me. And it pissed me off. “Apparently I’m the only person who knew nothing of her arrest. What a relief to find out now, after days of worrying.”

He winced. What I lacked in grappling skills I made up for in bite.

“Your father thought it best if we waited a few days to tell you.” Of course he had. “He knew you would want to see Drusilla, and what the poor girl needs right now is rest.”

Meaning what? That I would agitate her? “What she needs is her family.” And by that I meant she needed
me
.

Church leaned across the desk, placing his hands over my icy ones. Contrary to popular belief, vampires ran hot rather than cold. “Listen to me,” he commanded in a gentle tone that nevertheless would not be refused. “Your sister attacked a peer of the realm in front of witnesses. Not only that, but she began to insist – in front of these witnesses – that Ainsley’s heir was her child. She humiliated Lord and Lady Ainsley in addition to the physical violence.”

Oh, Dede
. I thought she had given up that nonsense. “Did you see this first hand, or is it hearsay?”

He looked at me with pity – much the same way the goblin prince had gazed upon me the night before. Nausea writhed in my stomach. “Yes,” he said softly. “I was there. You must believe me when I tell you that Drusilla was not herself. She was like an animal, Alexandra. A wild animal. They had to shock her to remove her from the premises.”

I closed my eyes. Shocking was pretty much the only sure-fire way to incapacitate a halvie without doing any physical damage.

“She’s not hatters, Church. She just wants to believe her baby didn’t die.” I think she also clung to the hope that Ainsley would leave his wife for her, but I wisely didn’t mention that.

Strong hands squeezed mine. “But it did, and she must accept that if she ever hopes to return to the world.”

I scowled. “If? Is there some question as to whether or not she’ll be released?”

He nodded, mouth grim. “Alexandra, Lord and Lady Ainsley only agreed not to press charges if Drusilla submitted to treatment.
It’s obvious the poor girl is deluded and needs professional help. She will get that at Bedlam.”

I swallowed, throat unbearably tight. “She’ll die in there.”

A second’s silence. Gentle fingers tenderly brushed one of the bruises on my face before sliding down to cup my shoulder. “You say that because of what happened to your mother, but there’s no reason to believe that Drusilla won’t recover with the proper treatment. If you go raging in there spouting how a travesty of justice has been committed, you won’t be helping your sister.”

He knew me so well, but not as well as he might think. If I managed to make myself enter the nightmare that was Bedlam, I’d only rage to disguise my pants-pissing terror. My mother had been swallowed whole by that place. They never cured her.

I was wary of humans. I was afraid of goblins. I was
terri-fucking-fied
of Bedlam.

“What if they can’t help her?” I asked, my mother’s face lingering in my mind.

He squeezed my fingers again. “You cannot think that. You must remain hopeful. Drusilla is a Vardan, with all the strength that comes with that lineage. She will persevere.”

This reminded me of after Rye had been killed. I’d been nighon inconsolable. Church had looked at me with that same loving determination and told me that I would get through that awful time, that I would mourn and eventually recover. I hadn’t believed him then, but the years had proven him mostly right. I could only trust that he would be right about Dede as well.

“Thank you,” I said.

He nodded. “Meanwhile, why don’t I ring the hospital tonight? See what I can find out for you?”

I liked that he hadn’t called Bedlam an asylum. “You don’t have to do that.”

Church’s face took on a vaguely amused expression. “I’m well
aware of that fact. Perhaps I
want
to do it for you – and for Drusilla.”

A sudden knock at the door kept me from replying. We both looked at it in surprise – like the last two people on the planet discovering there was a third.

“Come in!” Church bellowed.

The heavy oak door swung open, and the last two people I expected to see entered the office. It was Avery, and with her our brother Val, who was tall and smart in his black uniform. People were always amazed that we were related, as Val favoured his mother’s Japanese heritage more than his English. His indigo hair was slightly mussed – an oddity for him – and his Asian eyes the same green as mine, were rimmed with red.

One look at the pair of them and I knew something wasn’t right. They looked so… crushed.

“What is it?” I asked, rising to my feet. My chest felt tight, as though my heart hadn’t enough room to beat.

“It’s Dede,” Val said, his usually stoical expression marred by sorrow.

“What of her? Christ, Val, don’t lead with something like that and then make me wait.”

“She’s …” He stopped on a sob.

Avery put her arm around him as she stepped forward. She looked me dead in the eye – hers were as red as Val’s – and I knew then that I didn’t want to hear what they’d come all this way to tell me.

“No,” I said.

A tear trickled down Avery’s smooth cheek. “She’s dead, Xandy. She killed herself.”

I demanded to see the body.

Val tried to put his arms around me. “Xandy, you don’t want to do that.”

I pushed him away. “Yes I do. She’s not dead until I see for myself.” I stomped to the door of Church’s office. “I’m going to Bedlam.” All thoughts of my own fear disappeared, replaced with an odd sense of determined desperation.

Avery grabbed my arm. “Xandy, no. She … she set herself on fire.”

I froze, the tension of her hold threatening to pull my shoulder out of joint. “Dede wouldn’t do that.” I jerked my arm free. “She was afraid of fire.” And just how was that even possible? Where would she have got the tools necessary for such a macabre feat? Didn’t places like Bedlam take precautions to make sure its mad denizens didn’t give into the demons riding them?

The three of them – my siblings and Churchill – stared at me as though I were as delusional as Dede was accused of being.
They looked as if they felt sorry for me that I couldn’t accept the death – and madness – of my youngest sister.

Did they not understand that no one with even a shred of their right mind would set themselves on fire? Then again, when you’re bred to be hard to kill, suicide options are limited.

I could accept it – if it were true. But it wasn’t. If Dede was dead I would know. When she was eight Dede became hung up on the idea of “blood sisters”. She had seen it on the box. I explained to her that we were already related, but that didn’t matter. She wanted to mix our blood. For some reason she was obsessed with it. I indulged her – even then I would do anything she asked – and allowed her to make a small cut on the pad of my right index finger. She did the same to herself and then we pressed the wounds together. Ever since she’d maintained that she felt closer to me because of that. Maybe it was bollocks, but it was sweet, and a part of me wanted to believe it.

If Dede was dead, I would feel it in my blood.

“Alexandra,” Church began in a tone that I suspected was supposed to be soothing, “the hospital wouldn’t have notified the family if it weren’t true.”

“Yeah?” I challenged. “No one notified me and I’m listed as her next of kin!” I turned to my siblings. Avery’s pink frock coat was buttoned up wrong, and one of her stockings had a tear. She had dressed in a hurry. “Now the two of you can either come with me or not, but I’m going to Bedlam.”

Avery looked horrified at the prospect – which was exactly why neither Dede, Val or myself had her listed as an emergency contact. Me, the one who had nightmares about Bedlam Asylum, I was going to walk through its doors to prove that the charred corpse in their possession was
not
my baby sister, but Avery would rather tear off her own fingernails than visit a morgue.

It was my brother who stepped up. “I’ll come.” As soon as the
words left his mouth, his rotary rang. He swore, and accepted the call. “Vardan,” he said in a clipped, hard tone that I teasingly referred to as his “big boy” voice.

“Right … Now’s not a good …” He turned his back, walking to the other side of the room. We could all hear him, however. “Of course … Yes, of course, I understand, sir … I have a family emergency, sir … I’ll be there as soon as I can, of course.” He hung up, his expression pinched as he turned back to us.

“Jesus, Val,” Avery spat around a sob. “Your sister’s dead. Can’t you leave the job for a few minutes at least?” I would have corrected her about Dede, but she was right about Val, so I kept quiet. He worked too hard – and spent too much time kissing his superintendent’s arse.

“Someone broke into the PAH last night,” he told her, as if to justify himself. “Stole the records of every halvie born between November 1990 and December 1991. Looks like it was a halvie who did it.”

Prince Albert Hospital was where all half-bloods were born and received any medical attention needed throughout the course of our lives. Someone stealing records was a big deal – but not more important than family. Still, it took me a second to realise that my own records would be amongst the ones stolen.

“Halvies stealing half-blood records? That’s a little dodgy, isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “I’ve heard of stranger things.” He straightened his shoulders and shoved his wireless into the leather sheath on his belt. “Right, so let’s get to Bedlam and get this over with.”

“Don’t tell me you believe Dede’s not dead just because Xandy doesn’t want to believe it?” Avery’s cheeks were flushed the same colour as her hair. “I don’t want to believe it either, but that doesn’t make it less true.”

“No harm in checking. We owe Dede that much.” Val’s expression was sadly resolute as he put his arm around me. “Come on. Let’s go. See ya, Church.”

I glanced over my brother’s shoulder at my sister and former professor. Avery looked like a sad and angry child with her redrimmed eyes, but she stood her ground. Church raised his hand in sad farewell. He didn’t say anything – he didn’t have to. He knew me well enough to know that he’d be the first person I rang once I saw the truth with my own eyes.

I just hoped that truth wouldn’t be that my blood didn’t know fuck-all, and that my sister really was dead.