Free Bloodborn by Nathan Long Page A

blush at the compliment.
    ‘My men and I will go,’ said von Zechlin, stepping forwards. ‘And kill the murderer if he still haunts the scene.’
    Rodrik snorted at this.
    ‘I will go as well,’ said Gabriella. ‘And as quickly as possible.’ She motioned to Ulrika and Rodrik and started for the stairs. ‘Come. We will–’
    ‘No,’ said Hermione, cutting her off. ‘Bertholt will see to it.’
    Gabriella turned on her, suppressing a scowl. ‘Sister,’ she said mildly. ‘I was summoned here for this purpose. I must go.’
    Hermione lifted her chin. ‘You were summoned here to assist me. And I have other work for you.’
    ‘Other work?’ asked Gabriella. ‘I am to help with the crisis. Not–’
    ‘And you will be,’ said Hermione. ‘The husband of Alfina, Guildmaster Aldrich, is a blood-swain, but he does not love the rest of us as he did her. He will make a fuss when he learns Alfina is dead. He might rave in public, or go to the witch hunters. He must be quieted. Go to him and comfort him.’ She smiled primly. ‘In fact, it would be best if you took up residence there instead of here. I still need an ear in the guild halls.’ She waved a dismissive hand. ‘Otilia will give you the address.’
    Gabriella stiffened, and seemed about to argue, but then nodded curtly. ‘Very well. I see that this is necessary. I will do it, but I will be your frequent visitor.’ She turned again to the stairs. ‘Come, my dears. There is work to do.’
    As Ulrika and Rodrik followed, Ulrika passed Famke, who gave her a sympathetic goodbye glance. Ulrika returned it with a shrug and a wry smile. It was a shame she and the girl seemed to be on opposite sides of a bitter rivalry.
    ‘Damn the little Estalian bitch!’ hissed Gabriella once she, Ulrika, Rodrik and Lotte were safely in the coach and away. ‘She means to keep me out of everything!’
    She slapped the bench in frustration. ‘Would that Hermione had died instead of any of the others. She is the least suited to lead of all of them – so concerned with shining in the queen’s eyes, and making sure that I do not, that she will ruin everything.’
    Ulrika had to agree with the assessment. The pretty little snob didn’t seem capable of leading a sing-along, let alone a secret sisterhood, but she was clever enough to get her enemies out of the way. Ulrika looked at the address that the housekeeper, Otilia, had written on the back of a visiting card. Babysitting a guildmaster? There would be no excitement in that.
    ‘And her pack of boudoir pimps won’t find a thing at this brothel,’ sneered Rodrik from where he sat beside the maid. ‘They’ll be too busy keeping their boots clean.’ He leaned forwards. ‘Let me go, mistress. My wound is near healed. I am fit. If there is something to find, I will find it.’
    Gabriella looked at him for a moment, then patted his arm. ‘It is a good thought, Rodrik. Someone must go, but you are not the man for the job.’
    Rodrik looked affronted. ‘Why not? I am your champion. Who better?’
    ‘That you are my champion is the difficulty,’ said Gabriella. ‘Hermione’s gentlemen may see you and know that I disobey their mistress’s orders. I need not a knight, but a spy. Someone they do not know.’
    Ulrika’s heart leapt with sudden hope. ‘Mistress,’ she said.
    Gabriella turned to her. ‘Yes, child?’
    Ulrika reached up and pulled off her dark-haired wig, revealing her thatch of short straw-coloured hair. ‘They know your long-haired protégée, but they do not know me.’
    Gabriella’s eyes widened and a smile cracked her lips, but then it faded. ‘No, I cannot,’ she said. ‘You are still not ready. Faced with danger, you may make a bigger mess than the killer.’
    ‘Mistress, I promise you–’ Ulrika pleaded.
    ‘You have promised before,’ said Rodrik. ‘And still finished soaked in blood.’
    Gabriella shot him a hard glance. ‘She is mine to chastise, sir, not yours.’
    Rodrik bowed his