Imprudence (The Custard Protocol #2)(29)

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Uncle Rabiffano stepped in and, swinging from the shoulder with all his force, punched Paw in the jaw.

Paw fell back like a stone, senseless.

Everyone else remained motionless.

Uncle Rabiffano shifted back to normal. The fur of his face crawled up to the top of his head, chocolatey and thick, slightly less styled than before Anubis.

Rue growled and leapt at him, teeth going for the neck.

Only to find herself shifting back to human.

Her mother was gripping her hard. Preternatural forced change, exactly as if she were a misbehaving child.

“No, infant.” Lady Maccon sounded brittle.

“But, Mother!” Rue, starkers and uncaring, could only protest.

“Go and sit with your father. We might need you to touch him once more.”

“It’s not fair. You can’t use me as a weapon against my own Paw!”

“Prudence Alessandra Maccon Akeldama, I am not going to tell you again.”

“You’re asking me to choose between you,” wailed Rue.

Quesnel pulled off his frock coat and helped Rue into it.

Lady Maccon glared at her daughter. “No, I am ordering you to take care of him. Child of mine, ponder what he has become. We’ve tried every which way to get him to Egypt. He agreed. Twenty-odd years ago this all looked to be so easy. But none of us knew how Alpha’s curse would take him, or when. And the plan has failed.”

Uncle Rabiffano’s voice held no hostility. “We shouldn’t have waited for Lyall.”

Rue couldn’t comprehend that. “The Kingair Pack Beta? Why on earth should he matter?”

Rabiffano gave the oddest huff of a laugh. “He’s actually my Beta; they’ve had him on loan.”

This was all too much. And Paw was stirring. Rue would have to choose and she couldn’t face it. It felt like treason. If Uncle Rabiffano wanted the London Pack, if he was really meant to become its Alpha, shouldn’t he challenge for it? Except that meant one of them would die. When Alphas fought for pack leadership, one of them always died.

“The God-Breaker Plague. You’re going to take him into the plague zone?” Quesnel sounded oddly hopeful. Didn’t he understand how awful all of this was?

“Yes. Exactly.” Lady Maccon was pleased by his understanding.

“Where he’ll die!” Rue did not care how bitter she sounded.

Lady Maccon hauled her off and slapped her, hard across the face. “Stop it.”

It stung, but certainly didn’t hurt as much as werewolf shift. Still it surprised her into shocked silence.

So did the fact that Quesnel turned and stepped up against her mother in an entirely ungentlemanly way. “I wouldn’t do that again, Lady Maccon, if I were you.”

Mother blinked at him. “Oh. That’s the way of it? I didn’t realise.”

Rue clutched at her cheek and tried very hard not to cry.

“Prudence, little one.” Uncle Rabiffano’s voice was smooth as black treacle. He was so sure of himself. “This is not betrayal.”

Rue nodded. How long had it been since she had heard that kind of confidence in Paw’s voice? The slap seemed to have recharged her brain. They were right. The God-Breaker Plague would make her father an exiled mortal for the rest of his life, but he would have a rest of his life. Mother would surely go with him. Hadn’t Rue already acknowledged to herself that Paw’s time was running out?

It was a lot of realisations all at once.

“It’s only that I love him. He’s my Paw.” Rue didn’t know to whom she spoke, or why. Maybe it was for herself. She looked to Quesnel for reassurance. He was outside this. Outside her whole messy family with all its uncles and tethers and malingering life spans. “What do you think?”

“Oh, mon petite chou, it isn’t my place.”

“Please?”

“I think it’s romantic, to live together in an ancient land.”

“To die together there.”

“Not many Alphas get a retirement, chérie. And the weather is reputed to be very nice in Egypt.”

Rue gave a watery chuckle. Although she’d asked for his opinion, she did question his judgement. He’d no father and a dead birth mother. And, despite her indenture to a vampire hive, Madame Lefoux had never requested the bite. So his other mother would die too. He was accustomed to mortality.

“You do own one of the world’s fastest dirigibles.” Quesnel came to stand before her, not touching but there. And she adored – oh dear – the slight dimples when he smiled.

He was kind. “We could visit anytime you liked.”

Rue took a breath and struggled for something she could do to help. “So, how do we get him to Egypt? Will The Spotted Custard do?”

“Werewolves can’t float,” said Mother sadly.

Quesnel frowned. “It’s not the intent, but my tank might help there. The one Aggie’s hovering over in engineering.”

Lady Maccon looked thoughtful. “Prudence mentioned something about a tank.”

Rue nodded, numb. “Let’s give it a try? You’ll have to supervise, Quesnel. I’ll be indisposed.”

Then Rue took off the frock coat and walked to Paw.

He was moving, sluggishly returning to consciousness. She placed a hand gently to his dear wrinkled forehead. Rue shifted back to wolf, bones breaking and reforming and hair crawling from her head to cover her entire body. For once, she relished the pain. It was a punishment she richly deserved for her treachery.