The Conquering Dark: Crown Read online

  Simon was grateful for Kate’s endless confidence whether she actually felt it or was just saying it to prevent his having a bout of self-pity. So he quickly unwrapped what appeared to be a pile of scorched crust. “These are delicious. It’s a meat pie.”

  “I know what it is, but I don’t want to know what sort of meat.” Kate poised a fork over the pie before setting the utensil on the table with a sigh. “Simon, really, we’re not without resources. Can’t you arrange a servant to keep the house ready for occasional use?”

  “No. Not with my interests. It’s too dangerous.” He was again almost unconsciously sketching keys and runes onto the paper bag.

  “I have the same interests as you plus a preference for edible meals. I have servants at Hartley Hall, and my home is certainly as dangerous as yours.”

  “Agreed.” Simon lifted the fork and slipped it back into her hand. “Here, you dropped this. I assume your father gave your servants to understand they were in for peculiar times. And you pay them many times the going rate.”

  Kate prodded the pie listlessly while Simon seized one by hand and began to devour it. Malcolm entered the kitchen and, without a word, took up one of the doughy things and started eating.

  “No Barker,” Malcolm said to Simon through a mouthful of meat pie. “So you came to your senses?”

  Simon poured coffee for Malcolm. “No, he’s still asleep. He’s staying as long as he likes. We’re taking him on faith.”

  Malcolm nodded with thanks and drank. “I know my judgment has no leverage after how I argued against Charlotte, but I’ll say it anyway. Nick Barker is a bad man. To my mind, there’s nothing admirable about him. There, I’ve said it. I’m done with the topic.”

  “Noted.” Simon pointed his fork questioningly at Kate’s pie. She pushed it to him. He took a huge bite. “I understand your opinion, Malcolm. But I must do what I must.”

  The Scotsman tightened his lips and held up his hands to show he was indeed finished. Then he glanced curiously at Kate. “Not hungry?”

  Simon took his pipe from the counter and loaded it with tobacco. He rubbed his thumb over the rune incised on the bowl of the pipe. Out of habit, he waited for it to flare into life. He stared into the cold tobacco and the depressing realization dawned on him yet again that he was an exile from the aether. Simon grumbled and stood up. He went to the stove and lit his pipe with a taper, puffing heavily with effort.

  “Fire,” Malcolm commented. “Great invention.”

  When Simon returned to the table, he looked at the paper bag covered in his drawings. He snatched it up with annoyance, crumpled it into a ball, and shoved it into the burning stove.

  Kate leaned her chin into her hand, watching Simon. “Aren’t you the man who once told me, in this very kitchen, I believe, that using magic for everyday facilities, such as lighting a teapot or a pipe, was a criminal waste of skill?”

  “That’s when I had a choice.” Simon then chuckled with a shake of his head. “Thank you both for your outpouring of sympathy.”

  “If anyone deserves sympathy, it’s me.” Kate tapped the greasy paper that once held the food. “Next time I breakfast here, if there is a next time, this horror show can’t happen.”

  Simon took the pipe from his mouth, admiring the even glow of the tobacco. “I’ll have chickens and a pig brought in for your dining pleasure.”

  Kate started to retort, but a knock came from the front door. Simon stiffened with alarm. Malcolm looked confused at his overreaction.

  Simon said, “This house is warded to the shadows, and it is still in effect. Only one person has ever seen through those wards.” Simon went down the corridor and swung open the door. “Hogarth, come in.”

  The Anstruther’s manservant bowed. “Mr. Archer, good morning, sir.”

  A small shape pushed past Hogarth. Charlotte was fashionably attired in a rather formal dress and bonnet. She grinned as she stared around the foyer.

  “This is where you live in London, Mr. Simon? I couldn’t even see it, but Mr. Hogarth swore it was here. And it is.” She wrinkled her nose. “Do you have cats?”

  “It’s lovely to see you, Charlotte, even this early. And Imogen, welcome.” Simon shut the door after Kate’s sister glided into the hall dressed in her traditional full mourning. “To what do we owe this surprise?”

  “Miss Kate!” Charlotte scampered to Kate, who was coming from the kitchen. She wrapped her arms around the smiling woman’s waist. “Guess what?”

  “You are now suddenly craving bananas?” Kate winked at her.

  The young girl’s delighted laughter filled the room. “No, silly!”

  “Then wha—?”

  “We’re going to see the king!” Charlotte blurted over her. “He asked for me too!”

  “The king?” Kate looked down at the overexcited girl. “What are you talking about, dear?”

  Hogarth held up a thick gilt envelope. “This letter came from the Court of St. James to Hartley Hall last night. You are requested to attend His Majesty, King William IV, with all due haste.”

  The sitting room in Clarence House was crowded. Simon paced to work off unaccustomed nerves, struggling to appear merely energetic. Kate was truly at ease; she wasn’t used to meeting kings, per se, but she had grown up in rarified air, mixing frequently with the nation’s greatest. Malcolm stared out the window toward wide Pall Mall beyond the trees with its parade of carriages. Imogen stood like a statue behind Kate’s chair, and Charlotte was in the process of touching every lamp, vase, and painting in the room.

  “Charlotte,” Kate said for the tenth time, “please sit down.”

  “Who is this, Mr. Malcolm?” The girl looked at Malcolm as she pointed at a portrait of a woman.

  Malcolm didn’t look at the picture, grumbling, “I don’t know.”

  Simon said, “That’s Princess Augusta Sophia. The king’s younger sister.”

  “Oh.” Charlotte stared at the auburn-haired woman in oil. She took a step and pointed at another. “Who’s this, Mr. Malcolm?”

  “I don’t know,” Malcolm muttered a bit louder.

  “Mr. Malcolm doesn’t know, dear.” Kate froze Simon, who was opening his mouth preparing to answer. “And neither does Mr. Simon. Now, I must insist you sit next to me and stop pawing the king’s things.”

  Imogen made a grunting sound like a laugh. Charlotte giggled too.

  “What’s so funny?” Kate asked.

  Charlotte came toward Malcolm, playing hopscotch on the checkerboard-tile floor. “You said pawing. And I’m a werewolf.”

  Imogen snorted again.

  Kate shared a bemused look with Simon, but then he turned quickly at the sound of a door opening. King William entered the room, dressed in a common suit, his white hair mussed. The elderly king took in the crowd and smiled.

  “Ah, here you are.” He closed the door behind him. There were no secretaries, no clerks, no valets, only the king himself.

  Simon inclined his head respectfully as Kate rose and curtsied. Charlotte yelped, trying to copy the curtsy. Imogen remained motionless, and Malcolm posed with an inhospitable glower.

  King William went to Kate and grasped her hand. “So good to see you, Miss Anstruther. Thank you for coming so promptly.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty. You may recall Mr. Simon Archer.”

  “I do, indeed! Welcome to Clarence House, Mr. Archer. I’m glad to speak to you under less tumultuous circumstances.” The king then caught sight of the focused Charlotte and smiled genuinely at her. “You may belay curtsying, my dear. One will suffice for the entire day.”

  “Oh.” Charlotte covered her face with embarrassment.

  William chuckled pleasantly at her before greeting Malcolm.

  “This,” Kate said, “is Malcolm MacFarlane.”

  “Mr. MacFarlane,” the king said to Malcolm’s begrudging nod, “I saw your pistols in the antechamber. Remarkable. I’d say a brace of those equal the firepower of a sloop of war.”

  �
��They serve.”

  “Quite, quite.” William narrowed his gaze at the Scotsman and turned with a bow to Imogen without the slightest hint that he found her mourning dress unusual. Her veil barely quivered in reaction. He motioned for everyone to resume their seats as he found a plain wooden chair. “First, I want to express my thanks again for your efforts at that horrible coronation. You have my gratitude, and that of Her Majesty the Queen as well.”

  “We did little enough,” Kate said.

  “Please, let’s speak plainly, Miss Anstruther. There is no one here but I. And I know what you are.”

  “Sir?”

  “Magicians, Miss Anstruther. Conjurers. Alchemists. Sorcerers and the like. That’s why I sent for you. Those creatures who attacked the coronation were obviously not normal human beings, and they represent an extreme threat to this nation.”

  “We are endeavoring to meet that threat, sir,” Kate said.

  “I’m sure you are, I’m sure you are. But I require more than that. I am the king, and I must have access to all the resources that can protect my subjects and preserve order in the land and across our empire.”

  “Perhaps you should speak a bit more plainly, sir,” Kate said with admirable clarity.

  “Quite.” The king was unaffected by the straight talk. He seemed quite content and sure of himself. “I want you and your colleagues here to serve the crown. First, hunt down those devils that threatened so many lives so recklessly at Westminster, and beyond that, to work to protect this realm from a growing occult threat. Is that plain enough?” The king’s eyes twinkled like a playful uncle, but there was a hard political mind behind them.

  “It is, sir.” Kate raised her hand to Simon. “I must direct you to Mr. Archer as this band is his creation, in many ways.”

  William looked shocked. “Indeed? I’ve been told of you, Mr. Archer. Nothing in your background indicated great generalship in your nature. No offense.”

  “None taken, sir,” Simon said. “I am generally known as something of a fatuous playboy.”

  “Something of?” The king slapped his knee. “The very definition of, I’d say. I had occasion to hear about you once from Lady Dunston at a garden party that went rather astray.”

  “Ah yes.” Simon struggled to stay serious as Kate playfully scowled from behind the king. “Lady Dunston is a fine woman of uncommon … a fine woman.”

  “Yes.” King William chuckled, one man to another. “Quite fine. So what do you all say to my proposal?”

  “We are eager,” Simon said, “to protect the innocent, anywhere. If you are offering the resources of the Crown to that end, I’d say we are in business, Your Majesty.”

  “Excellent! Well said, sir! Your sovereign and your nation thank you.” The king stood. “Now that we are agreed, I’d like to bring in another conspirator.” He went to the door and motioned into the anteroom.

  Grace North strode in and gave a perfunctory curtsy to the king.

  Simon exchanged a concerned glance with Kate, who was already on her feet.

  “This,” King William said calmly, “is Grace North, as I’m sure you know. She has served as coordinator of the government’s magical efforts since early in my reign. Are you acquainted?”

  Grace looked typically angelic in yellow satin. “I am, Your Majesty, at least with Mr. Archer and Miss Anstruther.” She was calm and professional, the model of a political actor.

  “So, Mrs. North,” Simon caught Grace’s gaze with false simplicity, “you recommended us to His Majesty?”

  “I did, Mr. Archer.” Grace took a position under a portrait of George III. “I perceive you are shocked to see me here, and I believe I know why. There are no secrets in this room. You are no doubt curious about my advocacy of Rowan Barnes and the disaster that resulted in the destruction of St. Mary Woolnoth.”

  “As well as a series of murders. You recall the Sacred Heart Murders?”

  Grace gave Simon a cold glare that swiftly vanished. “His Majesty has been fully advised of that regrettable situation. I was supportive of Mr. Barnes because my magical advisors recommended him to me as the best solution to the Gaios problem. In hindsight, it was likely a mistake.”

  “Likely.” Simon stared at the powerful and beautiful Mrs. North. At the very least this nationally beloved woman had supported a dangerous lunatic, Rowan Barnes, who had murdered several women for ritual purposes. She had championed his cause as patriotic and threatened Simon with destruction if he moved to stop Barnes. At worst, Grace North also knew Barnes had actually been the cat’s-paw of the vile necromancer, Ash. And perhaps that wasn’t the worst of it at all. Kate had observed Mrs. North at Westminster doing something that seemed to be magical, withering one of the apes and restoring the prime minister to health. In Grace North’s eyes there was something deep and hidden, a cold blue secret. Or perhaps Simon was imagining it.

  “Those advisors have been removed from service.”

  Kate said, “May we ask who those advisors were?”

  Grace gave her an indulgent smile. “It was Lord Argyle.”

  Simon laughed harshly. “Are you serious?”

  “I am,” Grace replied coolly.

  Kate looked nonplussed. “The Archdruid of the Mercury Club? That sherry-sotted reprobate was the Crown’s magical expert?”

  “Yes,” King William said with embarrassment. “We are aware that he is not exactly Merlin. He has been cached, and I believe has since left England.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Grace said softly.

  William continued to Kate, persisting with his opinion that she was the leader of the team. “That is why you are here today. As Mrs. North said, mistakes were made with this Barnes fellow. I regret I was not as active as I should have been, but that has changed. From this point forward, the Crown’s magical agents will receive their orders from the Crown. No magical decisions will be made without royal approval. The only people who know about your existence are in this room today. And that is all who will ever know.” He cast an eye on Grace.

  She bowed in supplication.

  “And so let’s move on,” said the king to Kate. “What are our options for running these frightful brigands to ground?”

  “Miss Anstruther.” Simon raised a finger. “I have an idea, if I may.”

  Kate looked at him evenly, pausing as if unsure she would deign to allow him to speak. Then, fighting her amusement, she gave him an excellent imperious silent nod for him to proceed.

  Simon stretched out his legs, feeling suddenly quite comfortable with the highest of the high. “We need to draw them out, force them to fight on our terms. And they want one thing.”

  William scowled. “That would be me, sir.”

  “No, Your Majesty. What they wanted, I believe, is the Stone of Scone.”

  “Oh.” The king looked a bit disappointed.

  “Your coronation was their opportunity since the true Stone is rarely removed from the vault’s protection. I assume the Stone has been returned to its place of safety.”

  King William rubbed his hands together, staring at the floor. He seemed hesitant to reply.

  Simon sat forward. “Is there some problem with the Stone of Scone, sir?”

  King William leaned against a table. He took a deep, contemplative breath. “Mr. Archer, I regret to tell you that we no longer have the true Stone.”

  “They succeeded in stealing it!” Kate exclaimed. “We should have been watching it, no matter the vault.”

  “No, Miss Anstruther.” William calmed her. “We haven’t had the true Stone for some years now.”

  “What?” Simon exclaimed loudly, then cleared his throat. “I mean, what do you mean, sir?”

  The king exhaled. “The last time we were sure of the true Stone was my brother’s coronation ten years ago. Then it was returned to the vault. When we went to retrieve it for my coronation last year upon my brother’s death, our experts proclaimed the Stone in the vault to be a fake. Despite our best efforts to track it do
wn, it has vanished.”

  Malcolm chuckled from the corner. “Maybe it’s gone back to Scotland where it belongs.”

  The king laughed at the irony. “Which is why we postponed my coronation for so long. It’s said that there is power in the Stone that preserves the monarchy. But political pressures were such that we had to hold the ceremony. The Stone of Scone that I sat upon in Westminster was a fake we fashioned.”

  Simon looked at Kate. “Clearly, wherever the true Stone may be, Gaios doesn’t have it. He doesn’t know the Stone in Westminster is a fake. That may work to our advantage.” He turned to the king. “Sir, what I propose is that you allow us to take your makeshift Stone. We can create a false story that the vault was damaged in their attack, and the Stone is being taken to another hiding spot. This will bring our miscreants out to seize it.”

  “It’s our best option,” Kate said.

  “Well and good,” King William replied. “You may have our Stone as bait. And when you encounter the monsters, deal with them.” He stressed the final phrase.

  “We need them,” Simon said pointedly. “They may have useful information to uncover a greater threat to Britain.”

  William’s brow knitted with concern. “I’d prefer a permanent solution, for the safety of the monarchy, you understand.”

  “Then you’ve come to the wrong people, sir.” Simon rose from his seat.

  “I beg your pardon?” King William’s voice was cold with sudden anger.

  “I can assure you, Your Majesty, we are not timid in dealing with threats. We have eliminated many in the past, as Mrs. North will vouch. But in this matter you must trust my judgment. The powers we wield are too dangerous to be driven by mere political concerns. Forgive my bluntness, but we are not a cannon that you may aim as you will. We dare not become assassins for the Crown.”

  “Damn you, Archer, but you forget yourself. I am your king. You presume to stroll in off the dance floor and appreciate the welfare of this land better than I who have served it my entire life? You would dare tell me when the danger is sufficient for you to act?”

  “That is the sum of it, sir.”

  The king was red-faced, nearly sputtering. “Are you mad? These monsters who struck at Westminster would kill you or anyone without a pause for breath.”