Imprudence (The Custard Protocol #2)(66)

“Too true.”

“You’ll be careful, infant? Now you’re officially grown up and legally autonomous?” It was both a question and a statement rolled into one, as if Lady Maccon were trying to reassure herself.

“’Course I shall.” Rue was unused to hesitancy from Alexia Maccon. “I’m your daughter after all.”

Mother seemed to lose her voice and with a funny little wince, let her go and twirled away. Fishing about for a handkerchief, she dabbed at her eyes. “Blasted desert dust.”

Primrose moved to distract her with more formal farewells.

Rue turned to her Paw.

He engulfed her in a fierce hug, fairly cracking her spine with affection. He snuffled into his beard unashamedly. He hadn’t his wife’s sense of propriety or gravitas. “Take care of yourself, little one. Try not to get into too much trouble.”

“We’ll keep an eye on her, Lord Maccon,” said Percy in a most un-Percy-like cheerful manner.

Lord Maccon grunted at him and let his daughter go.

Rue and Prim gathered up their parasols. Percy went to find his hat, which he’d naturally forgotten in the other room.

“Oh.” Lady Maccon gave a little sigh of annoyance. “One more thing. I really shouldn’t but I think you ought to know.”

“What is it, Mother?” Rue felt a tinge of fear.

“It’s that ragamuffin’s tank. The one we used for Conall.”

“Yes?”

“It’s not meant for werewolves or vampires or anything similarly animate. It’s a ghost holder, for the preservation of dead bodies and the maintenance of a tether. Keeps a ghost from going poltergeist for much longer than normal, as long as you stick the dead body in quickly.”

Rue frowned. “How much longer?”

“I don’t know. Genevieve used one similar on her aunt, but that was decades ago. I’m sure both she and her son have made extensive improvements since then. It’s possible it could hold a ghost interminably.”

Rue let out a sharp breath. “Useful little jobbie.”

“Very useful. The question is, why do the Lefouxs think such a thing needed in Egypt?”

Rue nodded. “Yes, that is the question, isn’t it? Thank you for telling me, Mother.”

Lady Maccon looked almost sympathetic. “I take it that he didn’t tell you?”

Rue wasn’t going to give her mother that kind of insight into her relationship. So she smiled at her without commenting further.

Percy returned and they made their final goodbyes.

Once free of the hotel, Primrose took Rue’s arm, pulling her close for private consultation.

“What was that about a ghost holder?”

Rue felt her skin prick, even though it was a hot afternoon. “Someone is going to die and Quesnel knows who it is.”

“And he never told you?”

“He never told me.”

Prim looked even more upset than Rue. “You don’t think he intends to kill someone and stick them in there, do you?”

Rue winced. “The fact that he has been so secretive certainly doesn’t bode well. Although we do have one advantage.”

“What’s that?”

“There a good chance he’s forgotten that one of a metanatural’s other skill sets is exorcism.”

Percy bounced up and insinuated himself between the swishing skirts of the two ladies, taking their arms in his, in a crude imitation of a gallant escort.

“Percy, really, what has got into you? You’re bubbly. It’s horrid.” Primrose was sharp in her exasperation.

Percy didn’t notice. “Lord Maccon had a letter for me, and a few bits of other post. I had my club send it on to Shepheard’s just in case. It beat us here.”

Rue took offence on the Custard’s behalf. “We’ve the fastest ship in the skies!”

Percy shrugged. “Post doesn’t have to clear quarantine. Anyway, look at this!” He flapped a pamphlet against his sister’s skirt. Rue realised he had been holding it the whole time.

“So tell us about it. We aren’t going to stop in the middle of a public thoroughfare to read.” Prim tried to limit her encouragement, but she did love her brother.

It was nice to see Percy animated about something, Rue thought. But she wasn’t really listening to him. She was thinking about the ghost holder. She and Quesnel were already estranged; now she was questioning ever trusting him at all. Thank goodness she hadn’t allowed herself the luxury of falling in love. She was upset because, as his captain, he should have told her the tank’s true function. Not for any other reason. Of course, not for any other reason at all.

Percy crowed. “This is a copy of a recent Royal Society Bulletin in which it is announced that my paper has been accepted and will soon be published. I shall be famous.”

“Your paper?” Rue was suddenly suspicious.

“Your paper about what?” So was Prim.

“Werelionesses!” Percy crowed.

Rue and Prim stopped dead in their tracks. A garble of outraged dialects met the three tourists impeding the walkway.

“Percy,” hissed Rue, “you didn’t.”

“I most certainly did! Far more romantic and exciting than weremonkeys, don’t you think? And I’m the only author.”