Man Friday

find out anything you can about some oaths Old Abraham made Vlad take?"

  "Certainly, Madam."

  "Meanwhile, how are preparations for the party?"

  "Proceeding well. We'll be ready to start at one-thirty sharp. Though I believe Mr. Holt would rather face a horde of Gargoyles barehanded than attend."

  "Hmph. I'll have Vlad drag him there kicking and screaming if I have to."

  He flashed a very small smile. "Naturally, Madam."

  For Holt's transfer party, Differel had arranged to provide Sunday roast for the whole staff. The kitchen had been cooking for two days straight to prepare enough food, but finally all preparations were complete. Unlike her usual private roasts, it wasn't formal; she didn't even put on a dress. Instead, the food was set out buffet style in the great hall, so that the staff could come by whenever their schedule allowed, if they chose to attend. Those who did brought gifts, which they placed on a small table in the center of the hall. Dining tables had been set up not only in the hall but also outside in the north portico and on the terrace beyond. Footmen and maids working in rotating shifts continuously collected dirty dishes and cleaned and prepared the tables for the next round of eaters, as the kitchen staff served the food. The only thing was, seconds were not allowed since the food was limited, and any leftovers would be offered to the nightshift on a first come, first served basis.

  Master Virante outdid himself with the dishes: roast beef and pork, with a nut roast for vegetarians; roast potatoes and stuffing; mashed turnips, roast parsnips, boiled cabbage, baked green beans, and boiled carrots with peas; Yorkshire and suet pudding; and English mustard, horseradish sauce, and applesauce as condiments. For dessert there was apple cake, peach cobbler, mince pie, and sweet crepes with strawberries made by Chef Trumbo, the pastry master. Tea and coffee were the primary drinks, along with water, but a footman stood ready to dispense a dram of whiskey, cognac, or liqueur to anyone who wanted one.

  Differel ate with her senior staff on the dais at the west end of the hall, with Holt as the guest of honour. They were the only ones who were actually served. Though he looked somewhat uncomfortable at first, he gradually relaxed and seemed to enjoy himself. She dared to hope that his standoffishness of the past few days had been due to his embarrassment over the party, and that after it was over he might reconsider training her before his departure.

  After they had finished eating, while the adults enjoyed coffee and cognac, Differel signaled to a footman, who began bringing over the gifts for Holt to open. Nearly all were small packages and most turned out to be gag gifts, fitting in with the occasion, but a few were more practical or heartfelt. She gave him the keys and title to her father's old Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith II. When she was ten, he had purchased a Silver Spirit to replace it, but had kept the Wraith in mothballs. She assumed he would have given it to her once she acquired her driving license, but she planned to get something different, something more racy and exciting.

  He looked confused when he opened the box, and after she explained his expression changed to one of consternation. "I really can't accept this, Mum."

  "Nonsense. You'll need transportation when your transfer comes through; the rest of us will be too busy to drive you."

  "But it's much too fancy for someone like me."

  "Giles, it belonged to Father. I'm pretty sure he would want you to have it. Think of it as a show of appreciation for everything you've done for me and my family."

  "Thank you, Mum." He looked like he would cry as he pocketed the keys and title.

  About half-way through the pile of presents, Differel noticed Vlad step out the shadow in a back corner.

  "Excuse me; carry on." She rolled away from the table and wheeled over to the Vampire. He got down on one knee and leaned close to whisper in her ear.

  "I was successful, My Master."

  Her gut twisted with guilt, but she rationalized it had to be done. "Is he all right?"

  "He is unharmed. I scanned his mind while he was 'distracted'. Neither he nor his mistress were even aware of it."

  That's a relief. "What did you learn."

  "He is the Privy Council's liaison to the Joint Intelligence Committee."

  She did a mental double take. The JIC was part of the Cabinet Office, which support the Prime Minister and the Cabinet. It was responsible for directing the national intelligence organizations, such as the Secret Intelligence Service, the Security Service, and Defence Intelligence.

  "It seems that as a young man Andrew Sullivan was a member of the SAS and later MI5 before resigning his commission when he became Baron Stadford. However, he maintained contacts with both organizations and acted as an informal agent for MI6 when he traveled. He was appointed to the Council during the tenure of your grandfather Sir Miles because of his intimate knowledge of intelligence activities and practices."

  "How does this help us?"

  "Some years ago he began receiving information that a group of Fomorians may be trying to infiltrate the United Kingdom through its government and military."

  Her gut seized up. "Fomorians?"

  He flashed a predatory leer. "Indeed. The Queen, Prime Minister, and President of the Privy Council instructed him to conduct a discreet investigation. He made inquiries about the nurse as soon as he read Aelfraed's report about your aunt's attempted coup and your attempted assassination. He has evidence to suggest that she is a Fomorian."

  Her mind skipped a track. "Bloody hell." Suddenly the shilling dropped. "I've been so stupid!" She glanced at the table. The others were laughing and joking about Holt's latest gift, a bobblehead doll of the Queen.

  "Take me to her."

  "At once, My Master." He turned to shadow and engulfed her, and she felt the sensory deprivation combined with the intense numbing cold she remembered from when he transported her out of the mausoleum.

  When he released her, she found herself in the hall outside the nurse's room. The three guards on duty were startled by her sudden appearance.

  She rolled up to them. "I need to speak with the prisoner. Leave the door open and stand ready."

  They nodded and voiced their affirmation, and one opened the door. She wheeled in as Vlad followed, and she found the nurse standing in the middle of the drawing room, as if waiting for her. Differel stopped and looked at her, trying to figure out the best approach to make.

  "Well?"

  She scowled, and decided on the direct approach. "We verified that you received a fax from Sir Edward's machine."

  "Good. Now maybe you'll--" She cut herself off when Differel's exact words sunk in. "What was that?"

  "I've also learned that you are a Fomorian."

  The nurse jerked with shock, then tried to laugh it off. "You're off your nut!"

  She shook her head. "No, it makes sense. I remember now, it was Mandy who hired you to take care of Father. I thought it strange at the time that she contracted an outsider rather than used one of the infirmary staff, but I was too worried about him to make a connection. Besides, you didn't ask me what a Fomorian was, indicating you already know."

  She flashed an uncertain look, but then smiled. "I was just humoring you."

  "No, you weren't; you have no reason to, but you'd have every reason to be outraged if you were innocent. Besides, your actions prove it. Mandy wanted to usurp me, but when that failed she needed to kill me, to cover her tracks and take over the Order. She admitted she was a Fomorian, and it seems pretty obvious now that the real plan was to get a Fomorian in control of Britain's only protection against paranormal creatures. When that fell through, the next best option was to kill me, especially now that Vlad was in play. That would not only release him, but would probably also result in the dissolution of the Order. That task fell to you as Mandy's last living confederate. When that failed, you tried to sow dissension by attempting to turn me first against the Council and then Sir Edward."

  "None of which proves I am a Fomorian."

  "By itself, no, but it was how I learned you were th
at put it all together for me. I couldn't understand why you tried to implicate Stadford. Yes, he is my most vocal critic on the Council, and if I had ordered Vlad to eliminate him, as you most certainly hoped I would, it would turn the Council and possibly Her Majesty against me out of fear. But there were others who could have served that purpose as well, so there had to be something specific about him that made him a target. I found out what that was just this morning. He had been given a commission by Her Majesty, the Lord President, and the PM to investigate rumors of a plot by Fomorians to take over the government. That dovetails with Mandy's actions, since if they could get control of the Order there would be no one to oppose them until they were ready to move. And he had uncovered evidence that you are a Fomorian."

  She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her back on Differel, but her expression appeared neutral.

  "There seems little point in denying it." Her voice had changed too. It still sounded like her, but it was less emotional and more certain, almost arrogant.

  "Mandy infected you, didn't she?"

  She chuckled, but made no other reply.

  "We might be able to help you."

  "Your offer is wasted; there would be no hope for me."

  "You shouldn't give up so easily, but even if that proves to be true, you'd still be better off with us. The other Fomorians are not going to look kindly on you for all your failures. Throw in with us. We'll welcome you, and if you help us, we'll protect you."

  She laughed, and the wickedly cold cadence chilled her gut. "You suggest I become your slave, like the Vampire?"

  "No, of course not, but if you won't join us, I can't let you leave. You'll be turned over to Whitehall as soon as it can be arranged. Most likely they'll send you to the Tower. I think you'll find cooperating to be much more desirable."

  "Do you think you can hold me?"

  Vlad pulled one of his L465 machine pistols from under his great coat. Differel turned in her chair and gestured to the guards. Two came in and brought their L85A2 assault rifles up to their shoulders.

  "I certainly plan to try."

  She laughed again. "You little fool. You are clever, but you are not as insightful as you believe. Miranda did not infect me, I infected her, and I am no embryo, but a full-powered adult."

  She turned around, and in an instant her human form vanished, to be replaced by...Differel couldn't say what. Her eyes kept sliding off it, her mind refused to process the image; it was like trying to see her own blind spot. All she could discern was a fuzzy, black, featureless, gynecomorphic form, with staring yellow eyes and a huge grinning mouth full of sharp, peg-like teeth.

  Vlad raised his pistol and began shooting as the two guards opened fire. In the hall she could barely hear the third guard shout into a handheld radio, "We're under attack! Send help! Oh, god, please send help!!"

  Even before the first bullet reached her, the Fomorian changed form again, this time into an armoured eight-legged arachnoid form, with a human female two-armed torso where the head should have been. The bullets ricocheted off the armour, raising clouds of sparks. Screaming, it flew at Differel, its arms outstretched. Vlad turned, threw himself on top of her, and enveloped her chair and all. She felt a moment of cold, then he flowed away and she found herself in the hall. Inside the room she heard the guards shrieking in bloodcurdling tones as the third guard outside fired on full automatic. As soon as his clip emptied, a flood of blood splashed through the door and over his body, as a head flew into the hall and bounced off the opposite wall. He fell to one side, dropping to his knees as he vomited, and Differel covered her mouth and turned away as her own stomach lurched.

  Vlad charged towards the suite, but he grabbed the door and pulled it closed.

  "Seal it!" she screamed. He pulled a lever on the wall, and four