Sophronia made a small shushing gesture.
Into the madness strode a tall, elderly gentleman in a top hat with a band of green about it. He was followed by three similarly dressed men, a short lady in somber grays carrying a reticule shaped like a metal sausage dog, and Felix Mersey.
Sophronia thought, Now we’re really in the soup.
The handsome footman followed, looking harried. “I tried to stop them, Countess, but they insisted, and he is a duke.”
The tall, reedy vampire placed himself before the countess protectively. “Duke Golborne!”
“Duke Hematol,” replied the Pickleman.
My goodness, thought Sophronia, Felix took my suggestion and involved his father, how remarkable. I may owe him another kiss.
The short lady, who Sophronia realized was Madame Spetuna in a new disguise, put her reticule on the floor. The reticule puffed steam out its ears excitedly and trundled in Sophronia’s direction, tail wagging back and forth.
The countess shrieked even louder. “Mechanimal! Get that repulsive thing out of my hive!”
Several of the staff left off chasing Soap and dove for Bumbersnoot, who scuttled away at a much greater speed than Sophronia had thought him capable.
The countess began fanning herself vigorously with a gold lace fan. Then she squealed a third time, for Bumbersnoot bumped against her foot. A maid dove after him, upsetting a lamp with a stained-glass shade.
Duke Hematol reached out with supernatural reflexes and caught the lamp before it fell.
This display of otherworldly prowess upset the head Pickleman, Felix’s father. He began to harangue the vampires, accusing them of all manner of dastardly deeds. The chief offense of which seemed to be trying to steal control of the crystalline guidance valve and its patents and production. Although they must have seen the body, no one cared about the girl who had been savaged. That, apparently, was ordinary vampire practice.
“We will not have Picklemen harnessing the aether and using it against us!” the Duke of Hematol said in defense of the vampire position. “Nor will we be ostracized from a technology that can change the course of human transport! We will not permit you to maintain sole control. Other possible applications for these valves are too dangerous.” It was like a heated debate in the House of Lords.
Soap, shrugging off all attempts at dismissal, went over to the fireplace and began clattering up it, causing as much ruckus as possible—more, in fact, than one might expect.
Bumbersnoot charged about with Westminster drones in hot pursuit.
Sophronia gave Dimity the nod.
Dimity cast herself prostrate at the feet of the Picklemen, begging them for salvation from imminent vampire doom. She claimed all manner of mistreatment at the hands of the countess. The tea was lukewarm. The biscuits stale. The seat cushion lumpy. And a girl had been bitten to death right in front of her! She demanded she be rescued instantly and rounded out her complaints with a plaintive explanation that she was missing a ball!
Bumbersnoot trundled over Dimity’s elegantly draped skirts, pausing to nibble at a large purple bow, before dodging the grasping hands of a footman.
Pillover began arguing with his sister. Protesting that, for being kidnapped, they had actually been treated fairly and the tea was excellent. Sophronia wasn’t certain if he was aware of the plan, which currently consisted of causing as much pandemonium as possible, or if he simply had a brother’s objection to a sister’s fibs.