He kept his gun on Rue.
He pushed the white robe back from his head, revealing dark hair, thick and black. The moon was now up, and while only a sliver, it was enough to see by. He was extraordinarily handsome. Not uncommon among the Italians, Rue had heard. He was tan with an aquiline nose, like her mother. Both looked better on a man. Come to think on it, there was something of her mother about his eyes as well, large and liquid dark. No one had ever said anything negative about Lady Maccon’s eyes. In fact, they were much admired in certain circles. Rue always wished she had got them instead of the Maccon yellow. Why on earth am I fixated on eye colour at a time like this?
Rue lashed her tail. She was fixated because he looked familiar. Yet not.
He kept advancing towards her. Which was fine by Rue. There would come a point when he’d be close enough for her supernatural reflexes to be faster than his trigger finger, or so she hoped.
He was focused, intent on her, leaving his fellows to guard Miss Sekhmet and the restless deck crew. Maybe he thought Rue was the real werecat and Miss Sekhmet the captain. That might work out for them. Rue could let them capture her instead. Then soon as they were far enough away, snap. Rue licked her whiskers, imagining the surprise when these collectors suddenly had a mortal in their cage. Tasherit would be left with The Spotted Custard, safe and unstuffed.
It wasn’t a bad plan, she reasoned with herself. It did, unfortunately, put her in the hands of the enemy. Fine, then, it was a reasonable backup plan, if nothing else worked out.
Rue tried to understand the Italian’s intent. Did he think to shoot her with a silver bullet in a non-fatal spot and then drag her away? Where to? How would they get off the Custard? She didn’t see a net. What was his goal in all this?
A voice said, “Don’t let him touch you!”
It was an elderly voice.
One of the men not armed with a sundowner shot his pistol.
Floote, at the top of the main stairs, fell with a sickening series of thuds.
Someone belowdecks screamed.
“I said no one move!” The Italian still didn’t look away from Rue.
Rue lunged.
He lunged at the same time, wrapping her tightly in both arms.
Rue was shifting, fur becoming hair, paws becoming hands, and tail shrinking upwards. She knew that sensation. Of course she knew it. She’d experienced it on and off most of her life. The touch of a soulless. The sucking nullification feeling of a preternatural. Her mother’s touch.
“Hello, little cousin.” The Italian held her, vise-like, from behind. Together they faced an audience of startled Spotted Custard crew.
Oh dear, thought Rue, they were after me all along.
For why else send a preternatural, unless you had a metanatural to catch?
EIGHTEEN
Killing Cousins
“I am such an idiot.” Rue’s voice was sharp in the ensuing silence. “You’re not hunting werecats. You’re hunting me.”
The Italian brought his cheek down to hers. She could feel him smile. “Never doubt we’ll kill the monster where she stands. We’ve no interest in taking her alive. We’ve no interest in taking any of them alive. But if you come along quietly, we’ll leave them be. Promise. For you, my pretty little cousin, are unique.”
Rue gritted her teeth and squirmed, trying to break his grasp. Unfortunately, he was a lot bigger and stronger. He was only mortal strong, but that was plenty good enough. Rue rolled her head away from skin contact and caught sight of the Gatling gun to her left. A gift. From Dama. On my twenty-first birthday.
“My majority. I gained my majority.” Dama had tried to warn her. Without government protection, or us vampires looking out for you, there are people who may want you dead. So had Mother, in her awkward way, handing over that mysterious secret parasol club. So had Paw, always harping on about safety, always urging her to learn to fight.
“In India, as I understand it. Fair game at last. We started tracking you at once. Took us a while to catch up and by that time you’d returned to London. It’s never easy to get into London these days. And, of course, you’ve many friends there, don’t you, cousin? Not to mention family. But not all the vampires in England, not any more.”
Rue could grow to hate this man. “And Queen Victoria cut me loose, too. Withdrew the Crown’s protection.”
“You’ve no sundowner weapon, have you, cousin?” He pressed his own sundowner against her side, a cold hard reminder.