Free The Parasol Protectorate Boxed Set by Gail Carriger

wolf form at night. He should be back before the
full moon with a report from all six nearby cities. That is what I am hoping for, at any roads.”
    â€œProfessor Lyall started in Canterbury?” Miss Tarabotti guessed.
    Lord Maccon spun to stare at her intently. His eyes were more yellow than tawny gold, and particularly sharp in the dimly
lit room. “I hate it when you do that,” he growled.
    â€œWhat, guess correctly?” Alexia’s dark eyes crinkled in amusement.
    â€œNo, make me feel predictable.”
    Alexia smiled. “Canterbury is a port city and a center for travel. If our mystery vampire came from anywhere, it was most
likely there. But you do not think he came from outside London, do you?”
    Lord Maccon shook his head. “No, that does not feel right. He smelled local. All vampires get some indicative scent from their
maker, particularly when they have been recently changed. Our little friend had the death odor of the Westminster hive about
him.”
    Miss Tarabotti blinked, startled. Her father’s books said nothing on this subject.
Werewolves could smell vampire bloodlines? Could vampires tell the difference between werewolf packs as well?
    â€œHave you spoken with the local queen?” she said.
    The earl nodded. “I went straight to the hive house after leaving you that night. She completely denies any association with
your attacker. If it was possible for Countess Nadasdy to be surprised, I would have said she looked shocked at my news. Of
course, she would have to pretend such an appearance if she had metamorphosed a new vampire without proper paperwork. But
usually the hive is proud to have made larvae. They host a ball, demand turnday presents, call in all the field drones, that
kind of extravagance. BUR registry is customarily part of the ceremony. Local werewolves are even invited.” His lip curled,
showing several pointed teeth. “It is a sort of ‘stick it in your face’ to the packs. We have not gained any new members in
over a decade.” It was no secret how hard it was to make new supernaturals. Since it was impossible to tell beforehand how
much soul a normal human had, it was a deadly gamble for humans to try and turn. Since many drones and clavigers made the
attempt early on in life so their immortality might be blessed with youth, the deaths were all the more keenly felt. Of course
BUR knew, and so did Miss Tarabotti, that low population numbers were part of what kept the supernatural set safe from public
outcry. When they had first presented themselves to the modern world, daylight humans had overcome age-old terrors only upon
realization of how few supernatural folk there really were in existence. Lord Maccon’s pack numbered eleven in all, and the
Westminster hive was slightly smaller—both were considered impressively large.
    Miss Tarabotti cocked her head to one side. “Where does that leave you, my lord?”
    â€œSuspecting that there is a rove queen making vampires illegally and outside of hive and BUR authority.”
    Alexia swallowed. “Inside Westminster territory?”
    The earl nodded. “And of Countess Nadasdy’s blood-line.”
    â€œThe countess must be biting mad.”
    â€œYou put it mildly, my dear Miss Tarabotti. As queen, of course, she insists your homicidal friend was from outside London.
She has no understanding of how bloodlines smell. But Lyall identified the body as her get without doubt. He has generations
of experience with the Westminster Hive and the best nose of any of us. You know Lyall’s been with the Woolsey Pack far longer
than I?”
    Alexia nodded. Everyone knew how recently Lord Maccon had risen to the earldom. She was given to wonder idly why Professor
Lyall had not tried for Alpha himself. Then she assessed Lord Maccon’s undoubtedly muscular form and imposing appearance and
deduced the reason. Professor Lyall was no coward, but he was also no