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GENEVIEVE

Noise reached into her darkness Haainst wood

In her dreairlhood in the France of the Spider King, la Pucelle and the monster Gilles When warnac&039;s get Before she turned, before the Dark Kiss

Her tongue felt sleep-fil of her own blood was in her

In her drea the end of a snapped-in-half quarterstaff The English captain finished her father-in-darkness like a butterfly, pinning Chandagnac to the bloodied earth One of the less memorable skirmishes of the Hundred Years&039; War Barbarous ti continued She opened her eyes and tried to focus on the grubby glass of the skylight The sun was not yet quite down Dreaallon of icy water were dashed into her face

The ha paused &039;Mademoiselle Dieudonne,&039; someone shouted It was not the director - usually responsible for urgent calls that dragged her fronised the voice &039;Open up Scotland Yard&039;

She sat, sheet falling away She slept on the floor in her underclothes, on a blanket laid over the rough planks

&039;There&039;s been another Silver Knife murder&039;

She had been resting in her tiny office at Toynbee Hall It was as safe a place as any to pass the few days each month when lassitude overcah in the building, the rooht and the door could be secured from the inside It served, as coffins and crypts served for those of the Prince Consort&039;s bloodline

She gave a placatory grunt and the ha was not resumed She cleared her throat Her body, unused for days, creaked as she stretched A cloud obscured the sun and the pain momentarily eased She stood up in the dark and ran her hands over her hair The cloud passed and her strength ebbed

&039;Made were always impatient She had once been the same

She took a Chinese silk robe from a hook and drew it about herself Not the dress etiquette recoentleman caller, but it would have to do Etiquette, so io,in earth-lined coffins in Mayfair, and hunting in packs on Pall Mall This season, the correct form of address for an archbishop was hardly of major concern to anyone

As she slid back the bolt, traces of her sleep-fog persisted Outside the afternoon was dying; she would not be at her best until night was about her again She pulled open her door A stocky new-born stood in the corridor, long coat around hi from hand to hand

&039;Surely, Lestrade, you are not of the kind that needs to be invited into any neelling?&039; Genevieve enquired &039;That would be very inconvenient for a man in your profession Well, come in, coed teeth stuck frorown moustache When warm, he had been rat-faced; the sparse whiskers coh and pointed Like most new-borns of the bloodline of the Prince Consort, he had not yet found his final forlasses but criested active eyes

He set his hat down upon her desk

&039;Last night,&039; he began, hurriedly, &039;in Chicksand Street It was butchery&039;

&039;Last night?&039;

&039;I&039; an allowance for her spell of rest &039;It&039;s the seventeenth now Of September&039;

&039;I&039;ve been asleep three days&039;

Genevieve opened her wardrobe and considered the few clothes hanging inside She hardly had costume for every occasion It was unlikely, all considered, that she would in the near future be invited to a reception at the Palace Her only re jewellery was her father&039;s tiny crucifix, and she rarely wore that for fear of upsetting some sensitive new-born with silly ideas

&039;I dees are running high&039;

&039;You were quite right,&039; she said She rubbed sleep-guht, filtered through a grilass, were icicles jammed into her forehead

&039;When the sun is down,&039; Lestrade was saying, &039;there&039;ll be pandemoniu has returned&039;

&039;The Prince Consort would love that&039;

Lestrade shook his head &039;It&039;sis dead His head remains on its spike&039;

&039;You&039;ve checked?&039;

&039;The Palace is always under guard The Prince Consort has his Carpathians about him Our kind cannot be too careful We have many enemies&039;

&039;Our kind?&039;

&039;The un-dead&039;

Genevieve alhed &039;I am not your kind, Inspector You are of the bloodline of Vlad Tepes, I anac We are at best cousins&039;

The detective shrugged and snorted at the same time Bloodline meant little to the vampires of London, Genevieve knew Even at a third, a tenth or a twentieth remove, they all had Vlad Tepes as father-in-darkness

&039;Who?&039; she asked

&039;A new-born named Sch?n Lulu Common prostitute, like the others&039;

&039;This is what, the fourth?&039;

&039;No one is sure The sensation press have exhu of the past thirty years to lay at the door of the Whitechapel Murderer&039;

&039;How many are the police certain of?&039;

Lestrade snorted &039;We&039;ll not even be certain of Sch?n until the inquest, although I&039;ll stake my pension on her I&039;ve come direct from the mortuary The trade marks are unmistakable Otherwise, Annie Chapman last week and Polly Nichols the week before Opinions differ on a couple of others Emma Smith, Martha Tabram&039;

&039;What do you think?&039;

Lestrade nibbled his lip &039;Just the three At least, the three we know of So Violated, too Typical rip- like our man&039;s work And Tabram arm Silver Knife is only interested in us In vampires&039;

Genevieve understood

&039;This man hates,&039; Lestrade continued, &039;hates with a passion The murders must be committed in a frenzy, yet there&039;s a coolness to them He kills out on the street in broad darkness He doesn&039;t just butcher, he dissects And vampires aren&039;t easy to kill Our man is not a simple lunatic He has a reason&039;

Lestrade took the crimes personally The Whitechapel Murderer cut deep New-borns were jerked this way and that byfrom the crucifix because of a folk tale they half-knew

&039;Has the news travelled?&039;

&039;Fast,&039; the detective told her &039;The evening editions carry the story It&039;ll be all over London by now There are those a the ho do not love us, Made When the new-borns coested troops, but Warren is leery After that business last year&039;

She re by increased public disorder, Sir Charles Warren, Coainst political ar Square In defiance, warovernathered one November afternoon William Morris and HM Hyndman of the Socialist Deham-Grahame, the radical Member of Parliaued for the declaration of a Republic There was fierce, indeed violent, debate Genevieve observed from the steps of the National Gallery She was not the only va with the putative Republic You did not have to be warm to take Vlad Tepes for a monster Eleanor Marx, herself a new-born, and authoress with Dr Edward Aveling of The Va for the abdication of Queen Victoria and the expulsion of the Prince Consort

&039; I can&039;t say I blame him Still, H Division isn&039;t equipped for riot The Yard has sent h to do catching theto fend off some scythe-and-stake mob&039;