Lycans and Legends

Chapter 9: First Impressions

The gate outside Vesta’s Grotto squeaked when I swung it closed. I crossed the courtyard to the house. Sitting on a window seat inside the house, a furry black shape watched me, its eyes glimmering. The kitten leaped from the ledge, making the curtain sway. A moment later, the front door opened and Grand-mère appeared.

“Just in time, my girl. Just in time. Dinner is ready,” she said then bent to pet the kitten, praising the feline’s watchdog qualities in a slew of sweetly chirped French. She kissed the kitten on its head then set it back down.

Grand-mère turned and headed inside. The kitten scampered across the courtyard toward me.

“Tattletale,” I said, pausing to pick her up. “And what have you been busy with today?” I asked, petting the little cat on her head. The kitten, whom I’d rescued from Lady Cabell, had grown from the tiny puffball I’d smuggled off the Fens to a long-legged creature Grand-mère had named Minuit.

The kitten purred sweetly, rubbing her head against my hand.

I slipped inside, closing the door behind me.

“Oranges and lemons, it’s so cold outside,” Grand-mère said. “You’d hardly think it’s almost spring. You need to work in the office until this cold weather passes.”

“I guess this means you won’t approve of me leaving for Cornwall in the morning.”

“Cornwall,” Grand-mère protested. “What’s in Cornwall?”

“The Cornish,” I replied, hanging my cape on the hook just inside the door.

My nose led me to the kitchen where rosemary chicken, fresh-baked sourdough bread, and roasted potatoes sat on the table. Grand-mère worked busily setting out the plates.

“Cornwall. Is Harper going?”

“No. She’s headed north. I left the auto with her.”

“Then how are you going to get there?”

“Professor Spencer.”

“Oh,” Grand-mère said, the delight evident in her voice. “And how is the good professor?”

I chuckled. “Very well, Grand-mère.”

“I was so disappointed to see Edwin go, but Professor Spencer is such a gentleman. A truly refined man, a scholar. He’s such a marvelous catch, Clemeny. You’ve done very well.”

I had not yet had the heart in me to inform Grand-mère that my refined gentleman was, in fact, a werewolf. She’d been so pleased with him that I didn’t want to shatter her illusions. The truth was, I hardly knew myself how the relationship between Richard and I was going to work. It was too complicated to trouble Grand-mère with. So, for now, it was better to say nothing.

Grand-mère loaded me up a plate.

I gave Minuit one last pat and a kiss on her furry little head then set her down and went to wash my hands.

“Clemeny, pour us some wine, my dear,” Grand-mère called.

I pulled down two glasses, poured us both a white wine, then joined Grand-mère at the table. As I relaxed into my seat, I felt the weight of the day on me. I was tired. And hungry.

“Santé,” Grand-mère said, lifting her glass in a toast.

“Santé. It looks delicious.”

“All for you, my girl. All for you.”

I sipped the wine and looked out the window. The moonlight was shimmering on the leaves of the trees outside. It was a pretty sight. But tomorrow, I would go to Cornwall. And what would I find there?

“So, why are you going to Cornwall?” Grand-mère asked.

“Someone tried to assassinate the Queen today.”

Grand-mère swore in French. “Someone Cornish?”

“Not exactly. But it’s a place to start.”

“Queen Victoria, always gallivanting about like she’s a commoner. But, my dear, what does it have to do with you?”

“I suppose they hope I’ll find her would-be assassin before he strikes again.”

Grand-mère clicked her tongue. “I’m glad Professor Spencer is going with you.”

“I can handle myself, Grand-mère.”

She laughed. “Don’t I know it, my dear. Don’t I know it. But it’s always good to have a partner. In work…and in life,” she said then winked at me.

“Grand-mère,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Even Quinn knew that. How is little Isadora? You were in Twickenham this morning.”

“She’s very pretty. Loud but pretty.”

Grand-mère laughed. “One day you too will have a loud but pretty babe. Oh, Clemeny, I can’t wait for that day,” Grand-mère said, setting down her wine glass long enough to clap her hands and send up a prayer. “Oh!” she said, breaking off her imploration. “How is Professor Spencer’s young ward? Jericho, isn’t it?”

“Also loud but adorable.”

“Mischievous little cherub,” Grand-mère said.

Lycan. Mischievous lycan.

“And how do the two of you get on?” Grand-mère asked as she poured me some more wine.

“Me and Jericho?”

Grand-mère nodded.

“Very well. I’m quite fond of the boy.”

“Oh, that’s very good, very good indeed. Poor motherless child. And Professor Spencer, such a good man to take him in. Such a learned, refined, and godly man. Why yes, it’s an excellent thing you’re traveling together. You never know what could come of it.”

“You’re right. Suppose he’ll propose to me tomorrow?” I asked teasingly.

Grand-mère laughed. “Perhaps he will, and then what will you do, my girl?” she retorted playfully.

No. There was no chance that was going to happen.

“Grand-mère, you must give things time.”

“Time?” Grand-mère said, then blew air through her lips. “I was madly in love with Grand-père the moment I saw him. Of course, that doesn’t happen to everyone. But it happened to me.”

My mind drifted back to the first moment Quinn had introduced me to Sir Richard Spencer. Lionheart had been in his office at King’s College. We’d gone to see him based on the slim hope that he’d give us some tip on a case.

“Just hang back,” Quinn had told me. “Lionheart is adamant about staying out of pack trouble. But one can hope. We just need a lead.”

Quinn knocked hard on the office door.

Then, we waited.

And waited.

“Maybe he’s at Temple Square,” I whispered.

Quinn shook his head. “No. He’s here. And he can hear me. Sir Richard, a word?” Quinn called to the closed door.

We waited a moment longer, and then I heard a shuffle inside the office. A moment later, the door had opened to reveal the most handsome creature I had ever seen. Dressed in a fine tweed suit, his spectacles perched on his nose, that loose lock of blond hair hanging over one eye, he was fine-looking enough to catch any lady’s attention. It didn’t hurt that he’d also undone his tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt.

I swallowed hard and tried to focus.

“I’m quite busy, Agent Briarwood,” Lionheart told Quinn.

“I just need a moment.”

Lionheart had sighed, but then he looked around Quinn at me. “And this is?”

“Agent Louvel,” Quinn answered.

“Does Agent Louvel have a first name?” Lionheart asked, looking at me with those deep, wolfy eyes. I’d felt like I wanted to melt into my boots.

“It hardly—” Quinn began.

“Clemeny.”

Lionheart studied me carefully then stepped back, motioning for us to come in.

Quinn directed me to take a seat opposite Lionheart’s desk; Quinn sat in the chair beside me. Richard returned to his seat.

“I’m hoping you can help us,” Quinn told Lionheart who was still looking at me.

“Where are you from, Clemeny Louvel?” Lionheart asked me.

“Saint Clement Danes. Where are you from, Professor Spencer?”

“The twelfth-century.”

We grinned at one another.

Lionheart tapped his fingers on his desk, and after a long moment, he rose and went to his cabinet. Removing a bottle, he poured us all a drink. He set the cups down in front of us then lifted his glass.

“God save the Queen,” he toasted.

“God save the Queen,” Quinn and I replied, lifting our cups.

Quinn set his cup down without drinking. I took a sip and then another.

“Louvel. French. I believe the name means ‘little wolf.’ Did you know that, Agent Louvel?” Lionheart asked.

“I did. It’s the reason I took the job. I was going to hunt vampires, but it wouldn’t have matched.”

Lionheart smirked. “You must be the one they’re calling Little Red.”

“Is that what they call me?”

“It is.”

“Little Red. Well, looks can be deceiving,” I said, sipping the drink.

“Indeed they can,” Lionheart replied.

“Speaking of which, despite all apparent signs of your disinterest in our case, we need your help,” I told the werewolf.

“Do you?”

“Perhaps. Depends on what you know.”

Lionheart gestured for me to continue.

“Cyril is working with an airship pirate, making quick cash on human trafficking. We need to put a stop to such an abomination. He has a contact in the Dark District, but we don’t know who. Can you help?”

Lionheart removed his spectacles and looked closely at me. After a long moment, he said, “The Broken Violin.” Pulling out a scrap of paper, he jotted down an address which he handed to me. “Pub on the east bank. Start there.”

I moved to take the paper.

Lionheart held onto the note for a long moment.

I met his eyes.

“Thank you, Sir Richard,” I said.

“You’re welcome, Agent Louvel.”

Quinn rose. “Thank you, Lionheart.”

Lionheart, whose eyes were still on me, gave Quinn a slight nod then let go of the paper.

“I’ll see you again,” I said with a sly grin.

At that, Lionheart smirked then sat back in his seat.

Stuffing the paper into my vest, I rose. Quinn and I headed to the door. As I exited, I looked back at that old werewolf who was studying me over his glass of Scotch. Meeting my gaze, he raised his cup in a toast.

I winked at him then closed the door behind me.

“Well, that was awkward,” Quinn said.

“For who?”

Quinn laughed. “For me. But we got what we were after. Well done, partner. Well done,” he said then clapped me on the back. “Lionheart never talks to me. Now I know why.”

“And that is?”

“I’m not pretty enough. That hurts my feelings.”

We both laughed then headed on our way.

“More wine?” Grand-mère asked, shaking me from my thoughts.

I nodded.

All this time, Lionheart had been right in front of me, the connection between us instant. And I had totally missed it. Until now.

The dinner passed quickly, and feeling drunk on food—and maybe a little too much wine—I headed upstairs. I packed a travel bag then slipped on a nightdress. I slid into bed. A moment later, Minuit hopped onto the bed. Purring, she snuggled close beside me. I gave her a pat then turned and looked at my bedside table. Lying there, I spotted the star metal dagger. Reaching out, I touched the metal. A soft blue glow filled the room. But in the dim of night, I noticed something new. The metal didn’t just glow blue. There were shapes in the light, twirling designs and sparkles.

“Okay, that’s weird,” I whispered into the darkness.

Minuit let out a tired meow as if she were answering me in her sleep.

I chuckled then closed my eyes.

Soon, I would get answers.

Soon.