her hiding spot—a round face sporting muttonchops and a surprised expression. Not Biffy, for Biffy abhorred muttonchops. The parasol hurtled in the unfortunate gentleman’s direction.
Thwack!
The young man shielded his head with a forearm, which took the brunt of the blow, and then twisted to the side and out of the parasol’s reach.
“Good gracious me,” he exclaimed, backing away warily and rubbing at his arm. “I say there, do hold your horses! Pretty poor showing, walloping a gent with that accessory of yours without even a by-your-leave.”
Alexia would have none of it. “Who are you?” she demanded, changing tactics and pressing one of the lotus petals on the shaft of her parasol, arming the tip with a numbing dart. This new stance did not look quite so threatening, as she now appeared to be about to issue a prod instead of a thwack.
The young gentleman, however, remained respectfully wary. He cleared his throat. “Boots, Lady Maccon. Emmet Wilberforce Bootbottle-Fipps, but everyone calls me Boots. How do you do?”
Well, there was no excuse for rudeness. “How do you do, Mr. Bootbottle-Fipps?”
The self-titled Boots continued. “All apologies for not being someone more important, but there’s no need to take on so vigorously.” He eyed the parasol with deep suspicion.
Alexia lowered it.
“What are you, then?”
“Oh, no one of significance, my lady. Just one of Lord Akeldama’s”—a hand waved about, indicating the general splendor of the house—“newer boys.” The young gentleman paused, frowning in concentration and stroking one of his muttonchops. “He left me behind to tell you something. A sort of secret message.” He winked conspiratorially and then seemed to think better of the flirtation when the parasol was raised against him once more. “I think it is in code.” He laced his hands behind his back and stood up straight as though about to recite some long Byronic poem. “Now what was it? You were expected sooner, and my memory is not so… Ah, yes, check the cat.”
“That was all he had to tell me?”
Green-clad shoulders shrugged. “ ’Fraid so.”
They spent several moments staring at each other in silence.
Finally, Boots cleared his throat delicately. “Very good, Lady Maccon. If you do not require anything further?” And without waiting for her to reply, he turned to leave the room. “Pip pip. Must, you understand, press on. Top of the morning to you.”
Alexia trailed him out of the room. “But where have they all gone?”
“Can’t tell you that, I’m afraid, Lady Maccon. I understand it’s not safe. Not safe at all.”
Alexia’s confusion turned to worry.
“Not safe for whom? You, me, or Lord Akeldama?” She noticed he hadn’t actually admitted to knowing his master’s new location.
Boots paused at the door and looked back. “Now, don’t you worry, Lady Maccon; it’ll be all right in the end. Lord Akeldama will see to it. He always does.”
“Where is he?”
“Why, with the others, of course. Where else would he be? Off and about, you know how it goes. A goodly numbered hunting party has gone afield, you understand, tracking, as it were. Gone to find…” He trailed off. “Oops. Never you mind, Lady Maccon. Just attend to what his lordship said about the cat. Toodles.” And, with that, he gave her a funny little half bow and let himself out of the house.
Alexia, mystified, returned to the drawing room where the calico still held court. The only thing odd about the animal, apart from the creature’s murderous tendencies toward tassels, was the metal collar about her neck. Alexia unclipped it and took it over to the window to examine it in the sunlight. It was thin enough to unroll into a flat ribbon and had been punched all along in an apparently random pattern of dots. It reminded Alexia of something. She ran one glove-covered fingertip along the indentations, trying to remember.
Ah, yes. It was very like the loops that fed through music machines, making those little chiming repetitive tunes that so delighted children and so annoyed adults. If this ribbon also made some kind of sound, she would need a means of listening to it. Rather than search Lord Akeldama’s entire house without knowing what exact device she was looking for, and figuring the vampire in question would not be so irresponsible as to leave it on the premises, anyway, she could think of but one person who could help her at this juncture—Madame Lefoux. She headed back out to her carriage.
CHAPTER THREE
Alexia Engages in Entomology
Someone was trying to kill Lady Alexia Maccon. It was most inconvenient, as