hard as she possibly could. Really, she was getting terribly good at bashing skulls in her old age—rather unseemly of her.
The boy collapsed.
Now it was just the werewolf against the preceptor.
Alexia figured that Channing could take care of himself and that she’d better break for freedom while the preceptor was preoccupied. So she dropped the stool, hiked her skirts, and took off pell-mell down what looked to be the most promising passageway. She ran smack-dab into Madame Lefoux, Floote, and Monsieur Trouvé.
Ah, right passageway! “Well, hello, you lot. How are you?”
“No time for pleasantries, Alexia, my dear. Isn’t it just like you, to be already escaped before we had the opportunity to rescue you?” Madame Lefoux flashed her dimples.
“Ah, yes. Well, I am resourceful.”
Madame Lefoux tossed something at her, and Alexia caught it with the hand not holding up her skirts. “My parasol! How marvelous.”
Floote, she noticed, was carrying her dispatch case in one hand, and he had one of those tiny guns in his other.
Monsieur Trouvé offered Alexia his arm.
“My lady?”
“Why, thank you, monsieur, very kind.” Alexia managed to grasp it and her parasol and her skirts without too much difficulty. “I am rather grateful for the ladybugs, by the way; very nice of you to send them on.”
The clockmaker began hustling her down the hallway. It wasn’t until that moment that Alexia realized how large the catacombs were, and how far she had been stashed underground.
“Ah, yes, I borrowed the adaptation from the vampires. I put a doping agent in the antennae instead of poison. It proved an effective alternative.”
“Very. Until the swords came out, of course. I am afraid your three minions are no more.”
“Ah. Poor little things. They aren’t exactly battle-hardy.”
They ascended a steep flight of stairs and then dashed down another long hallway, one that seemed to go backward above the one they’d just run up.
“If you don’t find it impertinent of me to ask,” Alexia panted, “what are you doing here, monsieur?”
The Frenchman answered between puffs. “Ah, I came with your luggage. Left a marker so Genevieve would know I was here. I didn’t want to miss all the fun.”
“You and I clearly do not share a definition of the word.”
The Frenchman looked her up and down, his eyes positively twinkling. “Oh, come now, my lady, I think we may.”
Alexia grinned, it must be admitted, a tad more ferociously than genteelly.
“Watch out!” came Floote’s shout. He was leading the charge, closely followed by Madame Lefoux, but he had stopped suddenly ahead of them and, after taking aim, fired one of his tiny guns.
A group of about a dozen or so Templars was coming down the passageway toward them, preceded by the tweed-covered, dwarflike form of a certain German scientist. Adding to the generally threatening overtones of the party, Poche led the charge, yapping and prancing about like an overly excited bit of dandelion fluff wearing a yellow bow.
Floote reached for his second gun and fired again, but there was no time to get the first reloaded before the Templars were upon them. Floote seemed to have missed, anyway, for the enemy advanced undaunted. The only member troubled by the shot was the dog, who went into highly vocalized histrionics.
“I would surrender now, ya, if I were you, Female Specimen.”
Alexia gave Mr. Lange-Wilsdorf an innocent look from behind her little group of protectors; after all, it hadn’t been her idea to be rescued. She also hefted her parasol. Alexia had faced down vampires. A handful of highly trained mortals would be easy by comparison. Or so she hoped.
The little German looked pointedly at Madame Lefoux and Monsieur Trouvé. “I am surprised at you both. Members in good standing with the Order of the Brass Octopus reduced to this, running and fighting. And for what? Protection of a soulless? You do not even intend to properly study her.”
“And that is, of course, all you wish to do?”
“Of course.”
Madame Lefoux was not to be outmaneuvered by a German. “You forget, Mr. Lange-Wilsdorf, that I have read your research. All of your research—even the vivisections. You were always inclined toward questionable methodology.”
“And you have no ulterior motive, Madame Lefoux? I heard you had received instructions from within the highest levels of the Order to follow and learn as much as possible about Lady Maccon and her child.”
“I am attracted to Alexia for many reasons,” replied the Frenchwoman.
Alexia felt a token protest was called for at this juncture. “I mean to say, really, I am near to developing a