Alphas and Airships Read online

  “Yes, sir.” Indeed, she had. I wasn’t much impressed with the bonus at the time—given I was nearly blind in one eye, a colleague was dead, and my partner had just quit—but I was able to buy Grand-mère a new bed with the extra coin, so in the end, I had appreciated the gesture. Her Majesty had even sent along a bauble, a silver and onyx broach, to honor my service. Quinn had been given one too. I didn’t know whether or not Agent Rose had also received any kind of recognition for her—and Constantine’s—part in the case. I hadn’t seen her since.

  “Given how accomplished you are in the field, it seems foolish to have you wasting your time chasing down small details, interviewing people. I have assigned you a new partner, on a temporary basis, for this case.”

  My stomach dropped to my feet. Oh. God. No.

  “Your new partner can work on any minutia at your discretion. I have also sent word to my counterparts at Shadow Watch. That division’s aid is entirely at your disposal, including the Jacobite.”

  “Thank you. And my new partner?” My mind quickly went down the list of people Agent Hunter might have paired with me. I grew increasingly despairing as I thought it over. This was not the right time to train a rookie.

  Agent Hunter smiled, motioned to the workman who stepped aside, then we entered his office.

  There, I found junior Agent Harper.

  “I believe the two of you already know one another,” Agent Hunter said.

  I breathed an audible sigh of relief. Okay, at least it was just Harper. But still. “Agent Harper, I’m surprised. I thought you wanted to work in—”

  “In administration. I know. I’m going to try some field rotations. I thought… It’s just… I always admired you and Quinn. When the opportunity arose to work with you, I applied. I won’t get in your way, Clemeny. I promise.”

  I chuckled. “It’s not me you need to worry about. Get your things, Agent Harper. We’re headed out now.”

  “Out? Out were?”

  “First stop, of course, is the big, bad wolf,” I said, turning to pass Agent Hunter a playful wink only to realize a stupid truth. I wink with my left eye. Instead, I made a strange, half-squinting but slightly flirtatious—yet ugly—face at him.

  Agent Hunter raised an eyebrow at me but then chuckled softly, an honest and endearing smile crossing his face for just a moment.

  It was the sweetest thing I’d seen with my one good eye all week.

  Chapter 3: Ragnarok

  The sound of the squash ball hitting the wall was audible even before we slipped into the viewing box at the back of the court. The sport, which had never much appealed to me, was all the rage these days. When we opened the door to enter the viewing room, Agent Harper and I were surprised to find a pair of King’s College students inside. Deeply engrossed in one another, they didn’t even notice us.

  I cleared my throat.

  “Room’s taken, bugger off—” the gentleman began but then turned and looked at Agent Harper and me.

  The moment he caught sight of our red capes, his expression changed.

  He whispered to the girl then took her hand. The pair slipped past us, giving us sidelong glances and a wide berth.

  “I’ve worn the cape for eighteen months. Still haven’t gotten used to being treated like a leper,” Agent Harper grumbled.

  I smirked. “It’s better this way. Now we have the place to ourselves.”

  “Fabulous spot for a cuddle though.”

  “Isn’t it?” I replied with a smirk, slipping inside. The viewer’s box was narrow and had a low ceiling. All in all, it felt a bit like a confessional. The place was congested, smelling heavily of dust and the wafting tang of sweat from the squash court. And just below that, I caught Lionheart’s musky scent.

  I inhaled slowly, feeling the strange flush that came over me whenever Lionheart was around. I sighed. Seriously, I needed to find a man.

  Much to my surprise, Agent Hunter and his honest smile passed through my mind.

  A grin played on my lips.

  “What is it?” Agent Harper asked.

  I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  “Is that him?” Agent Harper asked, motioning to Lionheart.

  I nodded.

  “I saw him just once before, but at a distance. He was talking to Her Majesty.”

  I nodded then watched as Lionheart and Bryony Paxton moved quickly, volleying the squash ball back and forth, and trying to outsmart one another in the process. Bryony’s blond hair, which she’d pulled into a bun, was coming loose. Strands of golden hair trailed down from her temples. Her face was flushed red from the exertion, but she was smiling all the same. All in all, she looked very pretty. Happy, even. Very happy.

  I sighed softly, my eyes going to Lionheart. I watched his moves. To my surprise, he wasn’t holding back—much. He probably could have hit the squash ball hard enough to make it explode, but as I watched his arm muscles flex, I realized he was using more strength just to control his lupine energy, keeping the match fair. But at the same time, Bryony was no slouch. Her hits were solid, slick, and sometimes, a little dirty.

  They were actually well-matched.

  Lucky girl. No wonder she looked so happy.

  “He’s not so bad to look at,” Agent Harper whispered to me. “Especially in his fitness pants.”

  Lionheart cast a quick glance over his shoulder.

  “One thing you need to understand about werewolves is that they have exceptionally good ears.”

  Agent Harper’s cheeks flushed pink, her embarrassment showing up quickly on her fair, peaches and cream complexion. It must be troublesome to be a redhead. They never seemed able to hide their blush on those pale cheeks.

  “Don’t worry. I don’t think Sir Richard minds a lady noticing how firm he is,” I said with a grin, fully aware that Lionheart could hear. “Have you noticed his calves, for example? Have you ever seen such perfect specimens?” And, as I had hoped, my comment had thrown him off, distracting him from the match.

  “Point,” Bryony cheered. “And, that’s match,” she added, her hands on her hips as she grinned at her partner. Her breath was ragged, but she was beaming at Lionheart.

  “Are they?” Agent Harper whispered in an almost inaudible voice to me.

  I looked at her then raised a playful eyebrow.

  “Well, Agent Louvel, you’ve cost me the match. Why don’t you come out and join us?” Lionheart said, turning to the box.

  Bryony’s brow flexed in confusion as she turned around.

  I motioned to Agent Harper, and we exited the low door that led out into the squash court.

  “Clemeny,” Bryony said, moving to greet me. “I’d embrace you, but I smell like an old sock,” she said with a laugh, pausing to kiss me on both cheeks. “Good to see you.”

  “And you,” I said, then looked to Lionheart. “Sir Richard.”

  “Agent Louvel,” he said with a smirk then cast a glance back at Agent Harper. “Agent Harper, correct?”

  “I-um-yes. Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  “How is Agent Briarwood?” Lionheart asked, turning away from Agent Harper.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Agent Harper frown at being ignored so easily. It would take time for Lionheart to get used to her.

  “On his feet, which is about as much as we can ask for, for now.”

  “Very good.”

  “I have a couple of questions if you have time,” I said.

  “And I’m sure you have the same questions even if I don’t.”

  I grinned.

  “I’ll go wash up. Meet you in the commons?” Bryony said to Lionheart. I cast her a glance, realizing that her cheerful smile had deflated somewhat.

  “Sorry. Just business. It won’t take long,” I told her. While my heart thumped in my chest every time Lionheart beamed his smile—especially his smirky half-smile—at me, if Bryony Paxton had a claim to the werewolf’s heart, I would never do anything to disrespect that. I might really want someone of my own, but
only a bitch—literally and figuratively—gets in between a woman and her man—er, werewolf.

  Bryony nodded. She reached out for Lionheart’s hand and gave it a little squeeze then headed toward a side door.

  Motioning for me to come along with him, Lionheart picked up Bryony’s racquet and headed toward the rack on the other side of the room.

  I motioned to Agent Harper to stay behind.

  “Quite unfair of you, Little Red,” Lionheart said as we crossed the court. “Now I have to pick up the tab for dinner.”

  “Whatever are you talking about?” I asked with a grin.

  Lionheart huffed a laugh. “Agent Harper then?”

  “Trial period.”

  Lionheart harrumphed again.

  “Don’t think she’ll work out?”

  “Perhaps you should guide her toward something else.”

  “Are you offering me advice?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Hmm,” I mused. “Speaking of advice, perhaps you should tone down that wolfy smirk. Might accidentally make the woman who loves you feel jealous.”

  “The woman who loves me?” Lionheart said, stopping cold.

  Didn’t he realize? “Just a suggestion.”

  “Duly noted. So, what can I do for you today, Agent Louvel? As far as I know, everything is quiet.”

  “So it is, on the ground,” I said then pulled out my sketch of the airship. “It’s the aether I’m worried about.”

  “Aether? Does Her Majesty have you chasing Valkyries?”

  “Not quite,” I said, handing the sketch to Lionheart.

  He slipped the racquets back into the rack then took the drawing pad from me. He studied the image. “Where did you see this symbol?”

  “On the balloon of an airship prowling the North Sea.”

  Lionheart grunted that low, quiet, and very werewolf-like noise that always surprised me. “These are mixed symbols. This is the Hammer of Thor,” he said, his finger tracing the sketch. “But this is the symbol of Fenrir,” he said, pointing to the wolf’s head on the pommel of the hammer.

  “Fenrir?”

  “Fenrir the wolf. Don’t you know your Norse mythology, Agent Louvel?”

  “No, but I did save a bear named Loki once.”

  Lionheart smirked. “Fenrir the wolf was the son of Loki. The Asgardian gods raised Fenrir. But when he grew too large, too dangerous, they chained him. During Ragnarok, Fenrir the wolf escaped. The wolf swallowed the sun and killed Odin himself.”

  “That’s cheerful.”

  “Clemeny, the Norse werewolf packs are not to be trifled with. The worship of the wolf is steeped deep within their culture and religion. Werewolves, such as Fenrir, were worshipped as gods. There was a time when there were nearly as many werewolves as there were men in their lands. That was part of the reason the Vikings were so strong, so successful,” Lionheart said then sneered.

  “Viking werewolves. Fabulous.”

  Lionheart handed my notepad back to me. “I’ll make inquiries.”

  “I’m headed back to Scotland. Shadow Watch was kind enough to offer to ferry me through the clouds.”

  “While I admire your abundant bravery, Little Red, don’t forget you can’t fly.”

  “How do you know? Maybe I smell like roses because I’m secretly a Valkyrie. I might sprout some celestial wings and prevent the next Ragnarok.”

  “Didn’t you just tell me not to flirt?”

  “Who’s flirting?”

  Lionheart laughed. “Be careful up there, Agent Louvel.”

  “Thank you, Sir Richard.”

  With a nod, I turned and rejoined Agent Harper. The pair of us headed back outside.

  “Well, seems Sir Richard hasn’t warmed up to me yet,” Agent Harper said.

  “He will. Give him time.”

  “I didn’t mind. The view from where I was standing was divine.”

  I laughed. “Careful. Don’t forget, he bites.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  Chapter 4: The Dís

  Per Agent Hunter’s advice, I sent Harper to the London airship towers while I headed in a different direction. Over the years, Quinn had managed to make a good network of informants. Most of them had come to trust me as well. Except Alodie. The bitch. When Lionheart took control, I’d suggested to him that Alodie be shipped off to Australia as well, but Lionheart disagreed—albeit reluctantly. The two of them had never gotten along. Her tarty ways might have been fine for Cyril, but they did not mesh with the morals of the Templars. Lionheart let her stay in London on the condition she close the brothel and stay out of the way. She’d agreed and had been quiet ever since. Her silence, however, did not convince me that she was to be trusted. After all, she had sold out Quinn. She denied it. But one expects that from a bitch.

  Alodie would be no help here, but I knew someone who might. If she would talk.

  Making a quick stop first, I headed across town to Canterbury Row. The street, which had once been fashionable, had fallen into disrepair. Sitting on the very edge of one of London’s dark districts, a place where the preternatural frequently roamed, the aura around the street seemed to keep the human patrons away. Still, small shops lined the place, most of which looked as if they hadn’t seen a customer in ages.

  I paused outside the small bookshop and looked up at the sign: The Norns’ Eddas. The letters had been written in a font that looked more rune than alphabet.

  I headed inside.

  The bell above the door rang as I entered.

  I was immediately overcome by the scent of old books, dust, and incense.

  I cast a glance around. Everywhere I looked, I saw books, scrolls, and other odds and ends. Nearly unidentifiable skeletons sat under glass. I threw a wary eye at a handmade mobile that hung above the door. It was made of bones, black feathers, and mirrors. On the floor was a circle with runes drawn within it.

  “I knew you were coming,” a scratchy female voice called from the back of the room

  “Well, that’s easy to say.” I eyed the eerie circle then stepped out of it. It wasn’t intended for me. I headed toward the back of the shop. Tracing my fingers along the bookcase, I made a line of dust. I flicked the dust from my fingers. “Maid take the year off?”

  There was a cackling laugh. “I like your jokes, Clemeny Louvel.”

  “I’m delighted to hear that,” I said as I reached the back. There, a small flight of steps led to a raised platform. Bookcases lined the walls, but at a small table in one corner sat an ancient woman in an old velvet gown that was fraying visibly at the seams. She had long, curly silver hair that was a tangled mess. On the small table before her was an oil lamp, a yellow scroll, and a heap of bones. She gave me a toothy grin as she looked up at me with her rheumy eyes.

  “By Freya, he did a number on you, didn’t he? You’re almost as blind as me,” she said with a laugh.

  I huffed a laugh then climbed the steps to join her.

  “Doesn’t have much to say about it now though, do you, Fenton?” I asked, patting the pelt.

  At that, she laughed. “No, he doesn’t. Quite silent. Quite silent. You want me to call him up? We can ask him what he thinks,” she said, reaching for the pile of bones.

  I shook my head. “No, thanks.”

  “No, of course not. You’re not here for him. You’re here to find out about the son of Skoll.”

  I took a seat. Thank the gods—hers, mine, whomever—that she was in the mood to talk today. There were times when Quinn and I visited the Dís only to find her sitting unmoving, unspeaking, for months. But luckily, not today.

  “I’ll bite. Who’s Skoll.”

  “Skoll chases Mani.”

  “Okay, that’s not helpful.”

  The Dís laughed. “Agent Louvel, you always say the funniest things.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  “Skoll and Hati were wolves, brothers, sons of Fenrir. Hati chased Sol, the sun, and became a man. Skoll chased Mani, the moon, and y
our enemies were born. I have seen you in the clouds, chasing the son of Skoll.”

  Now we were getting somewhere. “Who is he? Where can I find him?”

  The Dís pressed her lips together and hummed. She picked up the bones with her ancient hands and held them out to me.

  “Bleed now so you will not bleed later,” she told me.

  Sighing, I pulled my knife from my belt. Cutting my finger, I dripped blood onto the bones. For the briefest of moments, I could have sworn I saw a flash of gold.

  The Dís laughed then tossed the bones on the table before her. She then dug into the pocket of her old gown and pulled out a feather. Moving slowly, she held it above her lamp until it smoked. She wafted the smoke over the bones, bathing them in the pungent air. She then began to intone lightly. As she spoke, her eyes rolled, revealing only the whites of her eyes.

  Curious, I pulled off my eyepatch and looked at the bones.

  “Yes, you look, Clemeny Louvel. You look with your new eye,” the Dís said then chanted some more.

  I stared at the bones until my vision blurred and faded. An image appeared before me. It was murky at first, almost cloudy in the mist. I heard a raven caw, and slowly, an image came into view. It wasn’t just the vision I saw that made things cloudy. It was actually clouds. My eyes settled on a man who was standing at the prow of an airship. The massive wolf’s head on the masthead pushed through the clouds. The man stared into the distance, his eyes glimmering red. He had long, blond hair and his arms were covered with tattoos, including the Hammer of Thor married with the wolf’s head.

  “Captain Skollson,” someone called from behind him.

  The man didn’t look around.

  “Zayde?”

  The man frowned, looking annoyed. “What?”

  “Sorry, sir. We found something interesting amongst the log of the Perceval. We thought you should have a look.”

  The captain looked out at the sky. The airship moved out of the clouds, pushing into the clear blue sky. A cool wind whipped off the dark waves below. The captain closed his eyes, seeming to relish the breeze on his face.