Free God Save the Queen (The Immortal Empire) by Kate Locke Page A

child inside me, but now it pissed me off as well. These walls held the truth about Dede, and I was going to find it.
    Val’s rotary buzzed as we stepped outside. It had stopped raining and the day had that slightly warm dampness I often associated with spring. It was going to be a humid night.
    We paused so he could check the message. “Digigram,” he said, referring to the electronic telegrams sent between wireless devices. “The Yard has new information on a member of the Insurgent Army who they think was involved with the theft at PAH.”
    The IA was like the Human League, but was made up of halfbloods as well as humans. They didn’t believe in the superiority of any race, but held that the aristocracy was a dictatorship ruled by fear and that Victoria should be forced to step down as monarch. They wanted a democracy where half-bloods weren’t bound to the peerage, while the Human League’s goal was to obliterate anything that wasn’t human.
    I had more respect for the League than I did for the IA. Going against your own kind was just … wrong.
    “Good,” I heard myself reply, though my thoughts were still on Dede. What could anyone hope to gain by falsifying her death? Had it something to do with our father? The Duke of Vardan was an important man, but any villain would be better served by kidnapping Dede and demanding a ransom rather than pretending she was dead. “If you see this halvie, ring me asap,” Val said, bringing me back to the moment. “She’s dangerous.” He handed me his mobile so I could see the photo.
    My breath caught in my throat as I gazed at the person captured by hospital cameras. It was a bit grainy, but I recognised the face – and the blue hair.
    It was Fee, the halvie whose life I’d saved the night before.

     
    Avery made me wear black to work that night. She told me I should call in and take my bereavement leave, but the last place I wanted to be was stuck at home with her and Val as they poredover old photo albums and drank too much wine. They might be in mourning, but I wasn’t. So I slipped into a black satin evening gown that had enough give for me to fight, and tugged on matching gloves and a pair of pointy-toe boots before setting off on the Butler.
    I was right – it was a humid night. Warm, damp air tugged at the pins in my hair as I drove toward the gates of Mayfair. They would have cool air circulating at the party to keep all those fast metabolisms comfortable. That was another reason why it made more sense to me to move the Season to the winter months, when it not only stayed dark longer, but was cooler as well. But Queen V was a stickler for tradition in many ways, hence why I was in a gown rather than my usual kit.
    Tonight’s party was at the Duke and Duchess of Somerset’s home. Theirs was one of the houses rebuilt after the Great Insurrection. The next house down the street had been left a ruin, the family who owned it destroyed in the fire. It stood as a memorial to all the aristos lost that awful day, and had been turned into a beautiful garden, filled with night-blooming plants and vines that climbed over the charred stone. I took a deep breath of floral-scented dampness.
    It was just after 11.30 p.m., and the guests were due to arrive shortly. My task this evening was to prowl round the perimeter of the party and make sure all was secure. Of course, each couple or individual would have their Peerage Protectorate detail lurking nearby, but the Royal Guard had to be wherever a royal might show up, and Bertie, the Prince of Wales, was on the guest list.
    Mayfair parties hadn’t changed much since Victoria took the crown. They were still overcrowded and overheated. Fortunately sweat was more prevalent amongst humans than aristos, and hygiene was considered a friend to all, so the smells of the evening stayed relatively pleasant. Supper was put out, mostly for thehalvies, though some aristos nibbled on the fare. There was also a variety of blood on hand,