hair when I was warm,’ Geneviève said. ‘It was the fashion. Jeanne d’Arc set it.’
Charles thought about that. ‘You were one of those girls who passed as a boy to go to sea and become a pirate. Kate is in a more respectable profession.’
‘Many would disagree with you, m’darling.’
Kate got off her knees and kissed Charles.
Geneviève had a pang. Her nails became fractionally more like claws.
Thinking about it, she knew Kate had earned her kiss. She’d been there when Geneviève hadn’t. While Geneviève had avoided the twentieth century, Kate had been a part of it and stuck by Charles through the nightmare years.
Kate dabbed her eyes dry with a hankie.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘I’m crying. You’ll think me a fool.’
‘Not at all,’ Charles said, kindly.
‘Kate has already got mixed up in murder,’ Geneviève said.
‘So I’ve been reading.’
Charles indicated the afternoon editions of Il quotidiano and Paese sera . They lay on a kidney-shaped coffee table, the newest piece of furniture in the room.
‘I had to rescue her from the police.’
‘Who’s in charge of the investigation?’
Geneviève looked at Kate.
‘An Inspector Silvestri,’ Kate said. ‘Do you know him?’
‘I know of him. He’s reckoned a good man. He caught that couple last year, the ones who left bloodied butterfly brooches on the corpses of their victims. Of course, he hasn’t stopped these murders. According to the papers, you saw the Crimson Executioner?’
‘Actually, I saw his reflection,’ said Kate.
‘A fine distinction, but worth making.’
Charles was livelier than Geneviève had seen him for weeks, livelier even than when the British spy was consulting him. She hadn’t known that he took an interest in the murders of vampire elders but it didn’t surprise her. Was he concerned for her safety? He was occasionally solicitous of her, but she had put that down to the fussiness of advanced age. She’d underestimated him. Again.
‘Counting last night’s, there have been seventeen murders since the liberation,’ Charles told Kate. ‘All vampire elders. All in Rome, and mostly in public places. Tourist spots, even. Professor Adelsberg was staked in Castel Sant’Angelo. That lieutenant of Dracula’s they used to call Radu the Repulsive was beheaded on the steps of the Museo Borghese. And the Duchess Marguerite De Grand, who was reckoned such a beauty, was destroyed in the shadow of the statues of Castor and Pollux in the Piazza di Quirinale.’
‘I’ve heard of Adelsberg,’ Kate said. ‘Wasn’t he a war criminal? One of Hitler’s vampire doctors?’
‘It’s possible he wasn’t a Crimson Executioner victim. The others were real elders, four and five hundred years old, mostly of the Dracula line and with titles and decorations to prove it. The Professor barely had his century. The Israelis may have sent their fellows after him. Or he might have been killed on general principle, by someone with good cause. As you know, that happens when these murderers get a run. Other crimes are laid at their doorsteps. It becomes easy to slip in an unrelated killing. Like hiding a pebble on a beach.’
‘As elders go, Count Kernassy didn’t seem such a monster.’
Geneviève wasn’t sure about that. Kate had only known the Count for a few hours at the end of four centuries of life. Kernassy was one of il principe’s Carpathians, and they tended to be a brutal lot. It might be that this one’s manners were a bit above the average.
‘Still, it’s a rum go,’ said Charles. ‘You wandering into all this.’
‘She met someone at the airport and was dragged off on an adventure,’ Geneviève said. ‘Penelope.’
A cloud of fatigue passed over Charles’s face.
‘Poor Penny,’ he said, quietly. He blamed himself too much for what had happened to Penelope Churchward, for what she had made of herself.
‘She does turn up rather like the proverbial bad one,’ said Kate. ‘Penny, I mean.
Charles thought about that. ‘You were one of those girls who passed as a boy to go to sea and become a pirate. Kate is in a more respectable profession.’
‘Many would disagree with you, m’darling.’
Kate got off her knees and kissed Charles.
Geneviève had a pang. Her nails became fractionally more like claws.
Thinking about it, she knew Kate had earned her kiss. She’d been there when Geneviève hadn’t. While Geneviève had avoided the twentieth century, Kate had been a part of it and stuck by Charles through the nightmare years.
Kate dabbed her eyes dry with a hankie.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘I’m crying. You’ll think me a fool.’
‘Not at all,’ Charles said, kindly.
‘Kate has already got mixed up in murder,’ Geneviève said.
‘So I’ve been reading.’
Charles indicated the afternoon editions of Il quotidiano and Paese sera . They lay on a kidney-shaped coffee table, the newest piece of furniture in the room.
‘I had to rescue her from the police.’
‘Who’s in charge of the investigation?’
Geneviève looked at Kate.
‘An Inspector Silvestri,’ Kate said. ‘Do you know him?’
‘I know of him. He’s reckoned a good man. He caught that couple last year, the ones who left bloodied butterfly brooches on the corpses of their victims. Of course, he hasn’t stopped these murders. According to the papers, you saw the Crimson Executioner?’
‘Actually, I saw his reflection,’ said Kate.
‘A fine distinction, but worth making.’
Charles was livelier than Geneviève had seen him for weeks, livelier even than when the British spy was consulting him. She hadn’t known that he took an interest in the murders of vampire elders but it didn’t surprise her. Was he concerned for her safety? He was occasionally solicitous of her, but she had put that down to the fussiness of advanced age. She’d underestimated him. Again.
‘Counting last night’s, there have been seventeen murders since the liberation,’ Charles told Kate. ‘All vampire elders. All in Rome, and mostly in public places. Tourist spots, even. Professor Adelsberg was staked in Castel Sant’Angelo. That lieutenant of Dracula’s they used to call Radu the Repulsive was beheaded on the steps of the Museo Borghese. And the Duchess Marguerite De Grand, who was reckoned such a beauty, was destroyed in the shadow of the statues of Castor and Pollux in the Piazza di Quirinale.’
‘I’ve heard of Adelsberg,’ Kate said. ‘Wasn’t he a war criminal? One of Hitler’s vampire doctors?’
‘It’s possible he wasn’t a Crimson Executioner victim. The others were real elders, four and five hundred years old, mostly of the Dracula line and with titles and decorations to prove it. The Professor barely had his century. The Israelis may have sent their fellows after him. Or he might have been killed on general principle, by someone with good cause. As you know, that happens when these murderers get a run. Other crimes are laid at their doorsteps. It becomes easy to slip in an unrelated killing. Like hiding a pebble on a beach.’
‘As elders go, Count Kernassy didn’t seem such a monster.’
Geneviève wasn’t sure about that. Kate had only known the Count for a few hours at the end of four centuries of life. Kernassy was one of il principe’s Carpathians, and they tended to be a brutal lot. It might be that this one’s manners were a bit above the average.
‘Still, it’s a rum go,’ said Charles. ‘You wandering into all this.’
‘She met someone at the airport and was dragged off on an adventure,’ Geneviève said. ‘Penelope.’
A cloud of fatigue passed over Charles’s face.
‘Poor Penny,’ he said, quietly. He blamed himself too much for what had happened to Penelope Churchward, for what she had made of herself.
‘She does turn up rather like the proverbial bad one,’ said Kate. ‘Penny, I mean.
Similar Books
