Tarnished Knight

GLOSSARY


Beast of Whitechapel – The only free verwulfen in London, Will Carver serves the Devil of Whitechapel and is swiftly earning a dangerous reputation as a brute and a fierce adversary.

Blue bloods – afflicted by the craving virus, blue bloods are faster, stronger and impervious to most injuries. Blessed with rapid healing rates and superior senses, they are driven by a thirst for blood. Most blue bloods of the Echelon are formed during the blood rites, however sometimes accidents occur, in which these blue bloods are referred to as 'rogues'. See craving virus, blood rites, rogue blue bloods.

Blood Rites – the rite of infection, in which a human boy undergoes the transformation from human to blue blood, usually at the age of fifteen. Each House must court the Council of Dukes to seek their approval of this process, and each youth is examined thoroughly, for his quality of character. Women are denied the blood rites for fear of the darker nature of the craving virus overwhelming their delicate sensibilities.

Blood taxes – set at two pints a year for the past fifty years, all humans are required to donate their portion.

Craving virus – origins: unknown. Some suspect it came from the orient, with rumours that Sir Nicodemus Banks brought it back to Europe from the White Court of the Chinese Empire. Indeed, his Tales of the Orient chronicles his infection and the subsequent way he sold his blood to aristocrats throughout European courts in order to create a superior class, though rumour suggests the virus originated further West than the Chinese Empire, perhaps even high in the Himalayas. The infection is spread by blood borne contact and there is no cure.

Council of Dukes – The Council is comprised of the ruling dukes (and duchess) of the seven Great Houses. See Bleight, Casavian, Morioch, Malloryn, Lannister, Caine and Goethe. The Queen historically has a vote, which may overrule all the others, but it is well known that she speaks with the Prince Consort’s voice.

Devil of Whitechapel – a devilishly handsome, rogue blue blood who rules Whitechapel with an iron fist, he is one of the very few who dare defy the Echelon and not suffer the consequences. Considered a man of dubious character and dangerous proclivities by the Echelon, his name is whispered in the houses of the city as a deterrent for small children. ‘If you do not eat your supper, the Devil of Whitechapel shall come steal you away…’

Drainers – nefarious people who take advantage of the poor by buying their blood off them and selling it to the draining factories. Not quite as bad as Slashers, but rumours abound of people going missing in the East End, forced to sell all their blood in order to feed their families.

Draining factories - located at Brickbank, down along the Thames, the draining factories process and filter the blood gathered in the blood taxes, where it is then sold to the Echelon.

Echelon, the – Formed of the highest aristocratic Houses in the British Empire, the Echelon is comprised of blue bloods and lesser human aristocrats. Ruled by the Council of Dukes and the Prince Consort, it is also defined by a rigid set of societal rules.

Fade, the – the frightful conclusion of the craving virus, in which all of the colour drains out of a blue blood’s skin and he becomes something else… something worse. Usually it begins to occur once a blue blood’s craving virus levels reach 70-80 %. See vampire.

Ivory Tower, the – An enormous gleaming-white tower that sits on the remains of parliament, from when the blue bloods overthrew it. The Ivory Tower is the Echelon’s seat of power and can be seen from every street in London.

House of Bleight – The Duke of Bleight is firmly in the Prince Consort’s pocket and rules out of spite and malevolence.

House of Caine – The Duke of Caine has been in seclusion for several years, and his vote is often cast by his son, Leo Barrons. There are whispers of some mysterious illness, which is impossible, due to the possessive nature of the craving virus. Some wonder if the duke is even still alive or if his son has disposed of him.

House of Casavian – Ruled by the Duchess of Casavian, the only female blue blood of the Echelon. Her father perished by some unknown illness many consider to be poison and in his dying moments infected his daughter. Lady Aramina has survived countless assassination attempts and is considered the weakest councillor. Her vote is rarely predictable and few know where her allegiances lie, or even if she has any. Some speculate the duchess is playing a deeper, far more dangerous game, but again her motives are shadowed. It is said that only the duchess knows her own heart, if she truly has one.

House of Goethe – Goethe is one of the more progressive dukes on the Council and rules with a fair and even hand. Whispers of his friendship with the Queen are slowly making the Court a dangerous place for him although he often votes with the Prince Consort if he agrees with his policy.

House of Lannister – The Duke of Lannister is reputed to be one of the most powerful men in the land and is considered an excellent duellist. Once the staunchest of the Prince Consort’s allies, now there are hints that he sees himself as a challenge to his Grace’s power.

House of Malloryn – Malloryn is the youngest duke and came into his power at the age of eighteen upon his father’s assassination. Despite that he is a dangerous and clever opponent who often votes against the Prince Consort. Once an ally of Barrons, the Duke of Caine’s heir, some falling out has since driven them into opposition, though few can say what it might be.

House of Morioch – The cadaverous Duke of Morioch is rarely seen, though his presence is often felt. Ruthless and manipulative, he owes the Prince Consort his allegiance, though he doesn’t always vote his way. Some say it is to remind the Prince Consort that Morioch is not the puppet Bleight or the Queen are.

Mechs – humans that have been forced by circumstances to replace one of their limbs or organs with a mech limb. Seen as less than human – with barely the rights of a human – they must often repay the debt of their limb in the Enclaves, where they work steel for the Echelon.

Metaljackets – the automaton army that protects the Echelon and patrols the streets. Several varieties include spitfires and earthshakers.

Nighthawks, Guild of – Formed by Sir Jasper Lynch, they are comprised of rogue blue bloods who work the streets of London as thief-takers and hunters.

Prince Consort – An increasingly erratic blue blood who served as regent for the young princess after overthrowing her father, the last human King. When Queen Alexandra came of age, he married her, thus cementing his power.

Queen Alexandra – Considered a puppet by many, the Queen grew up under the Prince Consort’s guidance and then became his wife. There were hopes that the intelligent young princess would assume the mantle of power upon coronation but those hopes were swiftly thwarted when it became apparent she is nothing but her husband’s tool. Her power is in name only now.

Rogue blue bloods – blue blood’s whose existence is not sanctioned, created entirely by accident and forced to serve the Echelon, usually as a Nighthawk or one of the Coldrush Guards. The one exception is the Devil of Whitechapel.

Slashers – The fear of everyone in the East End. Slasher gangs are formed by those degenerate enough to kidnap people from their beds or on the streets, where they steal them away and drain the blood from them until they are dead. The blood is then either sold to the draining factories (though the Council denies such a thing) or on the streets to blue bloods who have reason not to buy it through legitimate channels. Most slashers are required to maim themselves to prove their loyalty to their gangs and often replace their limbs with mech limbs. The sight of a mech limb is enough to cause fright in many parts of London, regardless of whether the owner is a slasher or simply a mech.

Thralls – a thrall is a person who accepts a contract with a blue blood. In exchange for their blood rights, the thrall is looked after and protected by the blue blood. It is the dream of every debutante to make a thrall contract with a blue blood. Some blue bloods may own more than one thrall. Thralls are a sign of status, especially if a lord may afford to keep more than one.

Vampire – the final stage of the craving virus. If a blue blood is not summarily executed once his craving virus levels reach 70-80 percent, then he enters the Fade and finally, devolves into a creature driven purely by its blood lusts and virtually unstoppable. A rash of vampires in Georgian times destroyed thousands of lives in the city and brought into being a law that requires all blue blood’s CV levels must be monitored.

Verwulfen – a similar infection to the craving virus is the loupe, which afflicts many members of the Scandinavian Empire and several of the Bavarian and Austrian countries. The disease used to be present in the highlands, however the Echelon slaughtered most of the verwulfen clansmen at Culloden. Now verwulfen are leashed and kept as slaves, or executed, whenever they are found in the British Isles. This has caused some hostility with Scandinavia in the past. Verwulfen are dangerous creatures, driven by passion and fury and afflicted by berserker rages, in which they are very nearly unstoppable. After such rages, they collapse with exhaustion, which is when they are at their most vulnerable. Considered little more than beasts, they are chained and caged for the safety of the public.

COMING MAY 2013

HEART OF IRON

London Steampunk Series, Book 2


Sourcebooks • May 2013

ISBN-13: 9781402270307 • ISBN-10: 1402270305


In the mist-shrouded streets of London’s dreaded Whitechapel district, werewolves, vampires and a clockwork army are one

step away from battle…

NO ONE TO TRUST

Lena Todd is the perfect spy. Nobody suspects the flirtatious debutante could be a rebel against London’s vicious elite—not even the ruthless Will Carver, the one man she can’t twist around her little finger.

Will Carver, is more than man, he’s a verwulfen and he wants nothing to do with the dangerous beauty who drives him to the very edge of control. But when he finds Lena in possession of a coded letter, he realizes she’s in a world of trouble. To protect her, he’ll have to seduce the truth from her before it’s too late.

“Deftly blends elements of steampunk and vampire romance with brilliantly successful results…darkly atmospheric and delectably sexy.” –Booklist, starred review for KISS OF STEEL


A dangerous attraction…

“I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout charm.”

Lena laughed, a miserable little sound. She had to get out of here. The walls felt like they were closing in on her. “That’s the truth.”

The elevation chamber came to a shuddering halt and she spun around. The bell rang and the doors started to open. Lena stepped through them as soon as they were wide enough to accommodate her.

One more flight of stairs to the ground entrance. Lena gathered her pink skirts and started dashing down them, but Will leaped in front of her, a frown on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She tried to push past, but he blocked her way. Standing two steps below her put his face on a level with hers. “Will, I’m tired. I want to go home. This is not—”

“Your scent changed.” He took a step up, his thighs pressing against her skirts. “As soon as I told you what they’d promised.”

Did guilt have its own scent? She pressed her fingertips against his chest. Whether to hold him at bay or draw him closer, she didn’t know. The superfine of his coat was soft beneath her fingers.

“It changed again,” he admitted, little sparks of molten copper flaring in his irises. “When you mentioned Lady Astrid.” His head lowered, gaze dropping to her mouth. “Just as it’s changed now.”

Lena’s heart started beating faster. Every emotion, every hope, dream, and despair she thought she’d kept hidden from him was betrayed by her scent. She met his eyes and couldn’t read the look in them. Hot amber. Eyes that she could drown in if he let her. The color of them softened, melted, as he leaned closer.

His intentions stole her breath. He meant to kiss her. In the foyer of the Ivory Tower, in front of anyone who walked down the stairs. Exhilaration leaped through every nerve in her body.

“Don’t you dare,” she whispered.

He paused, his mouth an inch from hers. “I never understand you.” His eyes darkened with heat. “Yes or no, Lena?”

Warm breath against her lips. Her hand softened on his chest. She knew the answer before her traitorous mouth could say the words. And so did he.

KISS OF STEEL

London Steampunk Series, Book 1

Sourcebooks • September 2012

ISBN-13: 9781402270277 • ISBN-10: 1402270275



A brilliantly creative debut where vampires, werewolves and clockwork creatures roam the mist-shrouded streets of London…

He craves her like no other…

Honoria Todd has no choice. Only in the dreaded Whitechapel district can she escape the long reach of the Duke of Vickers. But seeking refuge there will put her straight into the hands of Blade, legendary master of the rookeries. No one would dare cross him, but what price would he demand to keep her safe?

Ever since Vickers infected him with the craving, Blade has been quicker, stronger, almost immortal—and terrified of losing control of the monster within. Honoria could be his perfect revenge against the duke…or the salvation he never dared to dream of.

“Kiss of Steel is an enthralling debut with rich steampunk and vampire elements, and a leading man as wicked as he is irresistible. McMaster has crafted a hero and heroine who are intellectual and emotional equals; their love affair is heart-wrenching, redemptive and stirringly passionate.” – RT Book Reviews for KISS OF STEEL





If you make a deal with the Devil, you’d better be able to pay…

“’ow much do you want?”

Honoria had done the sums in her head. But it was best to start higher and bargain her way lower. “Thirty pounds a month,” she said boldly.

A high price for just her blood. A high price for the use of her body too. Perhaps her soul might cost as much.

“Done,” Blade said. He stood and paced towards a painting. Behind it was a safe, with careless piles of coins. If it belonged to anyone else, they wouldn’t dare keep so much money together, but nobody in Whitechapel was foolish enough to steal from the Devil himself.

“That’s all? I thought…” She trailed off. No need to invite him to lower the price. “How many times a week would you require my services?” A thought occurred. “Only my blood.”

Blade counted out the money. Honoria licked her lips, trying not to stare at it. As soon as he put it in her hand she would owe him, but a part of her mind raced. Thirty pounds. Rent, medication, enough for a good doctor and food… So much food! New gloves for Lena, new thread for her stockings – goodness, perhaps even new stockings if she dared – and a thick, heavy coat for Charlie, not that he’d be going outside.

How quickly she had become so mercenary. A year ago, she’d looked down upon such women as sold themselves on the streets. Now she was no better than they. Hunger and poverty could drive a person to abandon all of their morals.

“I know.” Blade turned and held up the small pouch. It fell into her hands with a heavy jingle. He sank back into the armchair, tugging his gold cheroot case out of his pocket. “We’ll discuss that later.”

She jerked her gaze up from the pouch of money in her hands. “No. I’d prefer to discuss it now. Or I’ll leave this here and owe you nothing.”

Blade ran a cheroot through his fingers, flipping it over and under, like a sleight-of-hand artist. “Once every three weeks.”

“So far apart?” Her eyebrows shot up. That was certainly reasonable. She put the heavy pouch down on the table. Started tugging at her shawl. Her fingers wouldn’t work properly.

“Takes the body a while to renew the blood,” he shrugged. “A lesson I learned o’er many years.” His gaze narrowed on her hands. “What are you doin’?”

“I would prefer the marks not to be visible. I still intend to seek employment.” She knew what that meant. There were very few veins that would give him what he needed. And neither her sleeves nor neckline concealed her adequately enough. The shawl finally came free. She folded it neatly and put it down. Her hands were shaking.

“’Onoria. Look at me.”

To look at him would undo her. She slipped her shoes off and crossed toward him, her stockinged feet sinking into the thick carpets. To have his mouth on her skin… She shook the thought off with a shiver. Such an intimacy had never occurred to her. A hot little flush swept through her lower belly.

“What are you doin’?” he asked, voice low and rough.

His booted feet were crossed. Leather strained over his thighs and his fingers dug into the armrests as though to restrain himself.

“We have a deal,” she reminded him, lifting her skirts delicately and putting her foot up on the cushion. The hard muscle of his thigh rested against her ankle. His fingers went white with sudden strain.

“Honoria.”

“You seem to have recovered your ‘h’s’,” she said, sliding her skirts up. There was a lump in her throat. Her hands trembled, but obeyed her will. The threadbare wool at her ankle was revealed. Then higher. Her calves. Her knee. She slid her skirts all the way up, revealing the faded pink ribbon of her garters. Heat flushed through her cheeks. What a shame that she couldn’t be wearing better undergarments, like the fine painted silk stockings she’d once owned.

Blade sucked in a breath. “Put your skirts back down.”

“I made a deal,” she repeated firmly and started working on the ribbons that held her stocking in place.

His hand caught hers. Cool fingers against her own, the very fingertips touching her inner thigh.

Honoria couldn’t help herself. She looked up. And nearly fell forward, into the burning depths of his black gaze. The hunger roared within him, a bottomless chasm that could never be fully sated.

Her breath hitched.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Award-winning author Bec McMaster lives in a small town in Australia and grew up with her nose in a book. A member of RWA, she writes sexy, dark paranormals and steampunk romance. When not writing, reading, or poring over travel brochures, she loves spending time with her very own hero or daydreaming about new worlds. To find out more about her London Steampunk series, visit http://www.becmcmaster.com/

DISCOVER OTHER TITLES BY BEC MCMASTER AT:

Kiss of Steel – http://www.becmcmaster.com/books/

Heart of Iron – http://www.becmcmaster.com/books/

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