"Seconded," Nora said.

"Aaand you should stay inside," Chas said. "I say that knowing you will veto me in 2.3 seconds."

"No," I said as my girl sat up in preparation for verbal warfare. "We report this, and we take care of it so no one has to hide. Because this isn't just about us anymore." Nora flashed me a thankful look.

"Wait, what?" Coalhouse shook his head. "No way. If we rat them out it'll be ages before we learn why they want Patient One, or how they managed to find out about the Roes." He glanced momentarily at Pamela. "Besides, like you said ... what if the cops decide to take them all out? Bad stuff could go down. I can do this, Cap."

"It's not 'ratting them out,'" I said, irritated. "It's reporting people who might've attacked innocents and tried to steal an armored van from the police!"

"Look, what have we got? One visual confirmation, a couple random stories, and the word of a flower girl? Like the coppers are going to believe us? Braca there already got shut down." The crew went quiet at this idea. "Let's investigate more, find out if they're really the ones responsible. If they are, we can go in locked and loaded!" Coalhouse looked to the others for signs of support, and met looks of bewilderment instead. "What's the issue?"

"That is the stupidest idea I've ever heard," Tom said. "And I've heard a few in my time."

"Yeah, well, you think everything I do is stupid, so I'm not going to-"

"No, it's incredibly stupid," Nora said. "This isn't like when we rescued Pam and Issy from the city. Then, there was no one else to help them. But now everything's out in the open. Like Papa said. We can't wage a private war." She blinked. "I can't believe I just said that."

"We're not in the army anymore," Chas pointed out. "We're civiliiians."

"Besides, these zombies aren't like the hosts we faced before, John." I used his real name to get his attention, and it worked. "These are functioning dead folks, like us. If they've done wrong, we have to let them face the authorities, even if it's not the best solution. Besides, thirty-odd Company Z soldiers to hundreds of unarmed, brain-dead zombies worked at Averne's base-five soldiers to at least fifty armed, smart zombies would be suicide. My days of never having enough men, of losing people needlessly, are over. This is serious."

"I know it is!" Coalhouse stood up, unsteady on the stairs. "Stop ganging up on me. I'm not an idiot, and I'm not a child. You gave me a chance, you can't just yank it away from me before I've even started!"

"n.o.body cares about your 'chance'!" Pamela said, glaring at Coalhouse. He stopped, stunned. "The others are right! We should tell the police, the army-somebody. Turn this over to someone who can figure out who wants to ruin my entire existence!"

For a moment everyone was quiet. Coalhouse looked like Pamela had just slapped him. "I want to help you, too," he said. "Didn't I help you and Isambard before?"

"You did," Pam said, rising. "I'm just sick of talking about this." She turned and headed up the stairs, her brother scurrying after her. Nora sighed, leaning forward to wrap her arms around her knees.

After they were gone I said, "Coalhouse, you did amazingly tonight. But things are different now." I stood up and helped Nora to her feet. "I'm calling the police. Now. I'm not saying we stop working, I'm just saying we do the smart thing and let the cops in on this, too. Not the army. We'll figure out a new game plan tomorrow."

"I want in on that," David said. I nodded at him.

Coalhouse looked at us all in turn, his single eye pleading for some kind of backup. He didn't find it. His hands curled into fists and he shouted, his voice echoing in the grand hall, "Fine!" Before anyone could say anything else, he picked his way over Chas's body and stomped toward the front door.

"Coalhouse!" Tom called out. "Where are you going?"

"Like I'd tell you. This is your fault to begin with!" Coalhouse pushed past David and slammed the door behind him. Tom swore and hopped over his girlfriend, moving to follow.

I caught his shoulder. "Don't. Just let him cool down."

"My fault? I just want to know how the h.e.l.l this is my fault!"

"The Topic," Chas reminded him. "You bit him. Everything is your fault. Foreeever."

Tom relaxed a touch. That was old ground. "What if he takes the car?"

"Let hiiim. He has to come back. He doesn't have anywhere else to go," Chas said as she pushed herself up. "I'm going to bed."

Tom turned to follow her after bowing to Nora. Ren did the same. David watched them disappear onto the landing before asking me, "Are your friends always so dramatic?"

"Sometimes." I moved to shake his hand. "You want a ride up?"

"I can walk. Ask for me at the Morgue. I'll spread word, see if I can get more info." He looked down at Nora and cleared his throat. "Miss."

Nora and I saw him out. After he was gone, she said, "You did the right thing. But now I have a recon mission of my own. Want to be my backup?"

"Please tell me it doesn't involve zombies."

"For once, it doesn't. And it can wait until morning. I'll share then."

"You're so beautiful when you're cryptic."

She kissed my nose and whispered, "Good night, Mr. Griswold," before heading up the steps. I watched her go, before finally removing my coat and hat.

I left them in a pile at the end of the stairs, carrying my phone with me. I was too tired to do the civilized thing and hang them up.

At seven the next morning I limped into the kitchen and found Nora already at her porridge and tea, dressed in her Sunday best. She was back in her green dress, her hair freshly washed and made glossy with something that smelled like roses, emerald gla.s.s teardrops dangling from her ears and a creaseless satin ribbon hugging her throat.

"For me?" I asked.

"Always," she informed me. "Get your breakfast. You should eat well before you break bread with your enemies-because you're not going to touch the actual bread, not if you're smart."

"I don't think that warning applies to me anymore," I noted, though I did sit down. "And kindly explain which part of 'with your enemies' shouldn't terrify me to my very core."

Nora uncrossed her legs, the hem of her dress shifting slightly, and I couldn't help but notice that she was wearing lacey stockings and little embroidered slipper-type shoes instead of her usual boots. The sight of a well-turned ankle hadn't meant a thing to me till I entered the Land of Perpetually Long Skirts and found someone with an ankle worth looking at, but I was coming to appreciate it. "Remember when I mentioned talking to Michael Allister?"

And the moment was ruined. "Unfortunately."

Nora hopped to her feet. "Well, today's the day. I messaged a few acquaintances from Cyprian's last night and managed to snag his number. I'm going to text him in a few, and arrange a tea party."

I didn't like the idea, and argued against it by snagging Nora's waist and pulling her onto my knee. She laughed, and didn't attempt to free herself. "Why? Don't you think we have enough on our plates?"

"Jealous? I think I like you when you're jealous. You get all snarly."

I gently b.u.t.ted my forehead against hers, my eyes inches from her own. That got her attention. "Why?"

"Not because I want to, believe me," she said. "I'm doing it for Pamma and Aunt Gene."

Leaning back, I said "Miss Roe? Why? You think Allister might know something about the bombing?"

"No. He's nasty, but I don't think he has it in him to do something like that." Nora reached out and adjusted the crocheted place mat in front of me. "Colonel Lopez has offered to take the Roes in at his estate, but they barely know him. It's clear Pamela wants to go, get out of the city. So I'm going to make that happen."

That I could respect-though I knew the idea likely displeased Nora on a number of levels. "Is Allister acquainted with him?"

"Of course. All the rich families know one another-most of them are related by marriage, actually. Ren came up with a clean record, but there's got to be more to him."

"Why not ask your dad about him?"

"I will, but honestly? I can probably get to Michael before I can get to Papa. He's been home what, twice since the hijacking? Besides, once I clue him into the stuff we talked about last night, he's going to clamp down again. So anything outside the house I need to get finished yesterday."

"You're right ... and I'm with you. Up to a point."

Nora sighed. "Ducking under Papa's inevitable crackdown looks stupid, I know. But you'll be with me, we'll be in public. It could be our only shot for a while."

I could allow for that. "Fair enough. But how are we going to set this up? I'm supposed to leap through hoops to spend time with you-how are you going to be able to meet up with him? You're going to need to get him alone if you want him to talk." In fact, it irked me, the idea that I tried so hard to balance respecting the rules with breaking the rules, and she was acting like this meet-up would be a walk in the park to plan.

Nora pouted her lips a bit in thought. "I can't get him alone-but he's from an aristocratic family. They can get away with things, especially the boys. If he wants to see me somewhere, we can probably do it. We can rent a chaperone."

"Wait. You can rent a chaperone up here?"

"Oh yeah. Parents hire them sometimes, especially if they let their children date instead of court. Neutral third party."

Biochemistry was easier than this social stuff. "So basically, you have to ask him to ask you, and then pay for the privilege. Your people are insane."

"You're just figuring this out? But yeah, he won't talk if we march in with the whole gang. A hired chaperone is probably the best I can do without encouraging him in ways I'd rather not think about." She leaned her head on my shoulder. "It won't be long. Just half an hour, tops, and we never have to see him again."

Even as I shook my head I said, "Fine. Whatever will help the Roes." Nora stood up, and I looked her striped bodice over once again. "But if he gets fresh, he's losing flesh. For the record."

She narrowed her eyes and stepped in between my legs, her skirt brushing my knees. "If that slug lays a single finger on any part of me, you have my permission to rip his head off and drink long and well from the blood that will spurt from his neck stump like a fountain. Okay?"

I found myself blinking. "Wow," was all I could say. How the royals managed to produce someone like Nora, I'd never figure out.

"Pardon me."

We both straightened up and glanced at the door. Renfield was there, dressed in trousers and shirtsleeves, expression anxious. He looked like he hadn't slept. "Hey, Ren. You got the kitchen bugged? We were just talking about you."

"Funny choice of words." He backed up a tad, his movements tight and energetic. Experience had taught me that this meant he had an idea in mind, or a project he wanted desperately to pursue. Experience had also taught me that this could be a very good thing, or a very bad thing. "I just thought I'd ask before I start tearing the house apart-does Dr. Dearly have any books on eye surgery or illness?"

"Eye surgery?" Nora asked, confused. "I don't know. He's not a surgeon. Try his study?"

"I will as soon as Dr. Samedi awakens, thank you." His disappointment was almost palpable. "None in his room, then, that I could look at now?"

"No." Nora glanced at me. "I guess there's the bas.e.m.e.nt. He's got some vintage medical books down there, part of his First Victorian collection. Two big gray trunks. I always used to unwrap them by mistake when I was looking for his adventure and military history book-"

Disappointment turned to manic speed-seriously, the guy disappeared beyond the doorway faster than a lightbulb could burn out. I stood up and followed him into the hall, Nora moving after me. "What's up, Ren?"

"Nothing," the scarecrow a.s.sured me as he started to try door after door, looking for the one that led to the cellar. "Nothing at all."

"It's the next one." As I said it, he found it and disappeared inside. "Um ... can we help you?"

"No, no, I have it!"

"You're going to want light. Hitting your head could end badly." Nora ducked under my arm and flicked the light switch near the door, illuminating a set of unpolished stairs and a cluttered room beyond. "The trunks are in the corner near the boiler."

"Thank you!" Ren shouted up. Something crashed. "Blast! Wait. Are the city university libraries open to the public, do you know?"

"I have not the slightest idea. You know, you've got this thing upstairs Papa's paying for called 'the Aethernet.' I think you might be familiar with it. If you wanted pictures of marmalade kittens in corsets, you could find them, so if you haven't found what you're looking for online? I'm pretty sure it doesn't exist."

"Of course, using the Aethernet never occurred to me. Thank you, Miss Dearly."

Nora twisted her neck, looking up and back at me. "He ... does this occasionally," I said. "G.o.d knows what's gotten into him. Cure for eye cancer? The key to finally being able to see through walls and watch ladies in various states of undress-the realization of a lifelong dream?"

"I heard that!"

Nora shook her head. "Does this have anything to do with the actual issues we are all facing, Ren?"

"I'm not sure." I heard a trunk opening. "Carry on!"

"I think he'd say so, if it were." I took her by the waist and urged her away from the door, shutting it behind us. "He's the least of our worries. Look, let me follow up on the calls I made last night and talk to Sam. Then we'll do whatever you want with Michael."

Nora smiled gently, and bounced up to kiss my chin again. "I'll make it up to you."

She just did, but far be it from me to tell her that.

19.

MICHAEL.

The Brother I'd gone with the night before had taken forever to find his mark. We'd ridden in circles for hours through the middle-cla.s.s parts of town, a third Brother driving, stalking a bit of nameless prey and drinking.

"There," he eventually said. "That's him."

"That's who?" I asked, peeping out through the carriage's venetian blinds, only to find that it wasn't just a him. It was a them. The zombie wasn't alone. The dead man was nondescript, but the living girl walking with him was nothing less than an uncanny angel. She had what appeared to be naturally snow-white hair, despite her obvious youth, and was dressed in pale purple, with a bouquet of violets pinned into the upswept sh.e.l.l of her bonnet. Above her head she carried one of those stupid gas lamp parasols, the light within it red. "What's red signify? I know there's a code the girls use."

"Sympathy for the dead," the Brother crouched by the door hissed. "Sympathy for the G.o.dd.a.m.n dead man who infected my sister."

Vodka started to creep back up my throat. Like me, this Brother had a vendetta. He hadn't been indecisive, he'd been searching. "We'll have to wait until they're separated and grab him."

"I won't hurt her." He looked at me, the eyes of his mask expressionless. "Just him. I'm willing to risk it."

"What? You can't be serious. She'll turn around and report us."

"That's why we have the masks, you dolt!"

The Brother playing chauffeur drove ahead of the perambulating couple and slowed, lowering the part.i.tion. "So we're not getting this one?"

"No, we can't," I said. "It's madness to kill a zombie right in front of a witness. The Brothers aren't even here to see it."

That was when the other Brother opened the door and sprang out, despite the fact that the carriage was still moving.