Chapter 12:

Old Sins and Long Shadows

It was apparent upon the return of the expedition to the Manor that all had not gone according to plan. Equally evident was the conspicuous absence of Lord Prime from their number. Widow Darby met them at the gate, with Winston holding an umbrella over her. She had no sooner ascertained that all present were in reasonably good health than she demanded to know where Lord Prime was. Arcee contrived to give, to the best of her abilities, a brief account of what had taken place, though that was better left for a more private setting, she said.

"I think you had better get this to Dr. Rach," said Brogan, a little apologetically, and he held out Lord Prime's notebook. "He's left instructions for this sort of thing, you know."

It was a somber collection, consisting of Mrs. Darby, the good doctor, and Miss d'Iacon, who met in Lord Prime's study to discuss the sordid happenings of the day. The Bull's Horn Band, sick at heart and unwilling to discuss the matter further, consoled themselves by retreating into the parlor with Miss Liú and Hagen and Raphael, comforted that at least their young friends and relations were safe. But in the shadows of the study, where Dr. Rach had neglected to light more than a single lamp, an air of fear had begun to encroach.

"I cannot think what might have possessed Lord Prime to leave with Megatron!" Dr. Rach protested fervently, "And you say that he behaved as though he was not even aware of his own name?"

When Miss d'Iacon agreed that this was, indeed, what Brendan had reported to her, and added that Lord Kaon had referred to the missing man as "Orion", Dr. Rach grew very grave indeed. He opened the journal and turned through the pages in an absent manner until he came to the last of the entries.

"Orion is a name holding some significance to both Optimus and Megatron," he admitted as he stared, devoid of focus, at the page. "And it is a name older than Lord Prime himself."

A declaration of this sort could hardly be made without an explanation following, and Dr. Rach did his best to relay what little he knew. Lord Megatron of Kaon, it seemed, had once had a sister. His only sibling, and perhaps the only person in the world that he truly cared for, had been a frail and gentle creature who disapproved of the endless rivalry between House Prime and House Kaon. In due time, as was often the way of life for young women of noble birth, she was married to a man her father found suitable - never mind what she thought of him - and she gave birth to a child.

The sister was not strong, and did not survive the process. And Lord Megatron, having succeeded his father by this time in a string of extraordinary circumstances, was rumored to have had his brother-in-law killed, though whether he acted in grief, spite, or ambition was unclear. His nephew, a sickly child called Orion, only lived for six months after before ultimately perishing. Optimus had once told Rach that it was the only show of weakness that Megatron ever forgave or felt sympathy with.

But Lord Megatron had kept that name, it appeared, firmly in his heart until the day he met the young son of Lord Sentinel Prime. Perhaps he saw a kindred spirit: the disenchanted son of an inattentive father. Or perhaps he simply saw an opportunity to vex and weaken his rival House. For whatever reason, when the two Houses were forced to interact in meetings of government and society, he took to calling the lad "Orion", for he knew well enough that it would disturb Sentinel greatly to hear the dead Kaon heir's name so cheerfully applied to his own son. Optimus did not learn of the name's origin until shortly before the falling out that led to Sentinel's death and his assumption of his father's title.

When Dr. Rach had finished with his tale, the women across the desk had grown pale, and Mrs. Darby remarked that it was a terribly sad story to hear - but that Lord Kaon was still a villain and a blackguard and that was all there was to be said about the matter. "Did it seem," she asked Miss d'Iacon, "that Optimus was in any particular danger from Lord Kaon when they left? Can we be certain of what he is planning at all?"
"We cannot," answered Miss d'Iacon, and her countenance was grim. "Yet I can only think that some spell or trick was used to convince Lord Prime to leave so willingly. Megatron was, I noticed, entirely too interested in the Codex on our way to Polidori's hiding place, and he perused more pages than the one regarding vampirism."

"My dear lady, that is impossible," protested the doctor, "All heads of the House of Prime since time immemorial have been immune to spells that affect the mind. "

"And why, sir?" Mrs. Darby asked with an air of severity, "Why should the lords of Prime be protected when the rest of us are not? Is it some merit of their blood, or a physical reason beyond that?"

This put Dr. Rach in something of a quandary, for he was not prepared to divulge every secret of his employer's family. Still, he was forced to admit that, under the circumstances, the withholding of information did no one any real good. A great, gusting sigh left the man, and he set down the journal on the desk between them. It was not a matter of blood, he told them, but an artifact passed from father to son for as long as the House of Prime had existed: the Ring of Dispel, first given to the knight Lancelot by Nyneve, Lady of the Lake.

"I have never seen him wear such a ring," Miss d'Iacon reflected, "In fact, the only ring I have ever seen upon his hand was that of his family crest." A long silence followed, in which Dr. Rach stared intently at first Miss d'Iacon, then Mrs. Darby, as though by the sheer force of his will alone he could cause them to come to the correct conclusion without the bother of having to say it aloud. His efforts were met with success, and an interested expression crossed Miss d'Iacon's face. "The Prime family ring is the Ring of Dispel? How intriguing!" said she.

"I trust you will not share that information outside of this room, my dear lady, but yes, you are correct. And that is precisely why it cannot have been a spell or hypnotism that made Lord Prime leave willingly with Lord Kaon," Dr. Rach spoke with a grim confidence, displeased with the words he uttered but unable to see any other solution.

A terrible expression overtook Mrs. Darby, and the woman leaned heavily against the desk as a thought occurred to her. "My dear Doctor Rach," she interjected with the utmost solemnity, "Lord Prime did not take his family ring with him to battle."

"Nonsense!" he cried, "Why ever not? It has never left his finger before."

Mrs. Darby shook her head sadly. "No, doctor, it is true. Optimus gave the ring to my son, in the corridor, just after Lord Kaon arrived at the Manor. He believed no one saw him, but Jack showed it to me later." She raised her eyes to meet those of her comrades with a terrible certainty in them. "Lord Prime went to face Count Polidori without the Ring of Dispel, I cannot say why, only that he must have had a reason for entrusting it to Jack."

Dr. Rach looked very solemn indeed. "Aye," he answered, "I think that I may know his reason. Only, I wish that you had spoken of this sooner, dear lady. I might have been better prepared for the outcome of this horrible affair."

He turned his attention now to the journal at his fingertips, wherein lay the last recorded entry by Lord Optimus of the House of Prime. It was very soon discovered that Mrs. Darby was correct, and Lord Prime had passed the ring to young Darby - for safekeeping, he had told the lad, and Dr. Rach could not help the slightest irritation that his employer should have left it up to him to explain the rather delicate situation Optimus had placed the Darby family in. He closed the book and put it into his jacket pocket, intending to keep it on his person at all times unless by some miracle Lord Prime escaped and returned to them. There were too many secrets of the House and its doings within those pages, and the loss of the book would sound the death knell for them, like as not.

"I believe it would be best if young Jack were brought in," said the doctor after a long moment. "I've got some things I must say to him, about that ring and about everything that happened today and about his future. His and yours, and all of ours."

It was agreed upon and Winston was called to fetch the young man to the study. He had not left the library since the party had set forth from the Manor on the previous day. Jack had watched from the window until the carriages were out of sight, then remained at the desk, turning the ring over and over in his hands and wondering what it all meant. When the carriages returned and he was not immediately summoned to return the ring to its master, Jack understood that something had gone very wrong indeed, and he had chosen not to rejoin his fellows, wishing to be alone with his thoughts.

Upon entering the study, he quickly surmised that it was a matter rather more personal than public, given the absence of the rest of the party that had traveled to Carnadine House. The old leather chair at the desk where Lord Prime was accustomed to sit was conspicuously empty, with only Miss d'Iacon's hands, white at the knuckles, gripping the back. Jack had hoped that perhaps Lord Prime was merely injured and had not the time or presence of mind to send for him and retrieve his ring. But this spoke of an altogether different explanation, and one that grieved him.

"He didn't come back, did he?" the lad asked without preamble - which was not, strictly speaking, in the best of manners, but neither his mother nor the doctor scolded him for it. When Arcee answered in the affirmative, he nodded and there was a curious change about his eyes, as though he were willing himself to grow older in an instant so that he might better grasp the situation. "Dead, or taken prisoner? I notice Lord Kaon has not returned either."

"No indeed," said Miss d'Iacon in as gentle a manner as she could manage. "As near as we know, Lord Prime was struck with a spell that Lord Kaon took from the Codex in the aftermath of the battle with Polidori. As we do not yet know where Megatron took Optimus, we do not know what his plans are and whether or not he intends his prisoner to live."

Jack had not considered that Megatron might keep Optimus alive, though he could not guess why the dark-hearted man might, but it heartened him somewhat and though he was no less grave, some of the fear seemed to have gone out of his face. "Doctor," said he, as he withdrew something from his breast pocket, "In light of this, I must ask a question that strays towards the darker possibilities and outcomes of this scenario."

"We must all consider every contingency, my lad," answered the doctor, "It is what the House of Prime does. Ask away."

A soft sound, not unlike that of a coin being dropped, echoed shortly before being muffled in the gloom of the locked study, and the signet ring of Lord Prime lay exposed in the center of the desk. "If Lord Prime were to be lost to us, to whom would I give his ring? Has he any kin? He never told me if he did, but I would not have expected him to. That is his own business and I am no confidant."

All present exchanged glances, one appearing grave and sad, one strangely enigmatic, and one utterly indecipherable. "Jack," Rach began, with a tinge of color rising to his face, "You must give that ring to no one save Lord Prime himself."

"Yes," said the lad patiently, "But should something happen to Lord Optimus - God forbid, but we must take it into consideration - how should I know who the next Lord Prime is so I may give it to him?"

"Mr. Darby, did I not make myself clear just now?" Now the doctor was beginning to take on an air of impatience, and the spots of color in his weathered cheeks spread across to his forehead as well. "No one may take that signet ring from you save for Lord Optimus. He gave it to you and you must keep it until - Lord willing - we find him and bring him home."

All the starch went out of young Darby quite suddenly and he was obliged to take a seat lest he collapse. His face was drawn, and as white as a sheet.

"If Lord Prime is not restored to us within a year," Miss d'Iacon spoke up, "I think we shall have to ask Inspector Fowler to find the most delicate way to alert the public to his….to the title of Lord Prime being inherited by a young cousin on his mother's side."

"We are still continuing with the deception that I am the daughter of Lady Beatrice Eleanor Barton, I presume?" asked Mrs. Darby archly, "If the woman herself had any children in life, I should think now would be when they might turn up." It was fortunate, she said, that no one had questioned her alleged relation to Lord Prime thoroughly more than twice.

No, said Miss d'Iacon, Inspector Fowler had looked into it some years ago. Tragically, Lady Beatrice had died childless and widowed, in a modest little house unrecognized by the public that had once eagerly followed her social life. There would be no other relatives to challenge the Darbys' story, as Lady Cicely Barton-Prime, Optimus's mother and the elder sister of Lady Beatrice, had died some fifteen years ago.

It did not pass their notice that Jack did not speak a word as they planned. His gaze was locked on the ring that sat on the desk, and he watched it with a wary expression as though it might suddenly reveal itself to contain a jinn. In fact, so intent was he in his contemplation that Dr. Rach had to call his name twice before he started like a guilty thing and asked what the matter was.

"I said," the doctor repeated, "That I wonder if you would be so good as to go into the library and retrieve one of the older volumes on the House's history? I've a thought….it may be a vain hope, and it is entirely contingent upon what Megatron is planning, but we are at our darkest hour and I will take any glimmer of light offered to us."

It was a relief to Jack to have something to do with his hands, his mind. It was hardly profitable to sit and moan over what might or might not be, and how his brief holiday from Eton had not proceeded at all according to expectations. Finding a book was a constant, a certainty made possible by the incredibly orderly catalogue that Lord Prime and Miss d'Iacon kept. As he leapt from his chair and hurried to the library, he prayed fervently that Lord Prime was alive, and would return to them. The thought of trying to masquerade as a nobleman at his age while the doctor tried to keep the House together sounded disastrous to him. He was not born and bred in Mayfair, like his schoolfellows, and someone would surely discover the ruse.

"Jack!" a voice stopped him on the stairs.

He turned and saw Mo Li on the landing, with something of a pitying sentiment about her. She gathered her skirts, having been convinced for a change to dress after the fashion of young Englishwomen on this solemn occasion, and hurried up after her friend.

"Miss Liú," Jack returned in a subdued manner, "I assume you've heard what happened, no doubt in greater detail than what was related to me?"

"I have," she answered, "It is horrible, isn't it? But if Megatron had meant to kill Optimus, I think he would have done so while Optimus was still weakened from using Æthelwulf's curse. We must not give up hope so early." A dangerous gleam entered the girl's eyes, and Jack was reminded of a bird of prey. "There is always a reason to fight. And if Optimus does not escape and we are forced to go in and rescue him ourselves, we shall. I look forward to ensuring that Lord Kaon remembers my face in his nightmares."

A smile rose unbidden to Jack's lips and he found his spirits lightened somewhat. "You amaze me, Mo Li," he said, "But sometimes you also frighten me, I should like it to be known."

"A healthy respect will suffice, I think, Mr. Darby," Mo Li teased, "Now may I ask why you are so bent on crossing the entirety of the stairs without stopping for breath? I find that I am in need of diverting my mind, and would appreciate company."

Jack offered her his arm and she took it, and they progressed up the stairs together at a slightly more respectable pace. "I'm only retrieving a volume or two of history for Dr. Rach," he admitted, "Something he believes may help Lord Prime, as soon as we discover where he is."

"Brogan and Wheel have already left," Mo Li said, "They intend to scour all of London until someone comes up with an answer. Men do not simply disappear, after all."

"No, indeed they do not," Jack nodded grimly, "Let us hope we find Lord Prime alive and in good health."

The safehouse was dark, as it ever was.

Bajāna waited in the silence of a chamber more akin to a tomb, glad for a little peace and quiet after the ravings of Mme. Clamat. He did not express it aloud, preferring to speak only to Lord Kaon - who had actually bothered to learn his language and his culture and therefore had his respect - but Bajāna was irritated that the housekeeper believed Kaon was better served in hiring a professional assassin to deal with members of Prime's household, rather than rely on him.

His thoughts were interrupted as the door swung open and Lord Megatron stumbled in, bloodied and weary but with a gleam of malicious triumph in his eye. Half supported, half supporting, Optimus was at his side sporting a wonderfully blackened eye and several torn articles of clothing. They appeared to be in good humor, which Bajāna found nearly as puzzling as Prime's presence in the safehouse.

"Well," rasped his employer, "That went as well as could be expected. Bajāna, I think we had better put it down in the ledgers that we will not be further pursuing the idea of trade routes through Transylvania after all. Isn't that so, Orion?"

Orion? Ah, now that was a name Bajāna had not heard in some time. How curious.

Lord Prime shrugged gamely, something infinitely more carefree and nearly childish in the gesture than any of his bearing had ever been before, and gingerly felt a cut over his eyebrow. "If you say so, Uncle," he remarked, "But I still cannot believe your contact turned out to be a vampire! Vampires, Uncle, are only superstition!"

Megatron laughed bitterly and clapped the younger man on the shoulder. "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy," he quoted in a dry tone. Then he turned to Bajāna with a meaningful glance, which the spy quickly interpreted to mean that he was meant to play along with whatever his employer said.

"Given our would-be trade partner's behavior at Carnadine House, I have my suspicions that our young Mr. Pax's luggage never made it to the house. Added to that particular bout of misfortune, we were both waylaid by some particularly inebriated idiots on the way here."

"I haven't the slightest idea what they wanted with our pencils and your journal," Optimus - no, better make that Orion - put in, "But then, they were very drunk. I'm glad none of my research was with us or they'd have tried to ruin that as well."

"Yes, but all the same, it is a pity all your work in translating your father's work on the Codex Quæ Occidis has yet to be located," Megatron put on an air of contemplative sympathy, "You've put so much effort into it, after all."

His brother-in-law, in the brief time that Megatron had allowed him to live, had indeed worked on translating the Codex from Latin. Unfortunately, he'd written all his notes in Dutch shorthand, which took Lord Megatron considerably longer to read, and left gaps in the knowledge. Considering that Lord Prime was a bit of a polyglot, he would prove most useful to the House of Kaon for as long as the false memories held in place.

"Uncle, did you not tell me you've actually acquired some of the books?" Orion asked suddenly, even as Bajāna played the part of an attentive member of the staff and dabbed at the cut over his eye in a fussing manner.

"I have, in fact. Three volumes of the four, though where that pernicious last book may be is anyone's guess."

"Then wouldn't it be more expedient to simply translate it from Latin itself?" Orion shrugged again, accidentally knocking the spy's arm aside. "Father died when I was so young that I do not recall his voice and never really had cause to hold to his language. I think it would be more efficient if I didn't use his notes at all, really. For sentimental purposes I should like them, if they turn up again, of course, but I hardly think I need them."

With a thin smile, Lord Kaon said that Orion was making a fine show of the old Kaon spirit, and that if anything, his mother certainly would have been pleased to see that all the money put into his education had not been wasted. There had been a time once, long ago, when Megatron could have found it in himself to praise the younger man for no other reason than that he had done something clever. There might even have been a time when he could have found it in his heart to care for him, in the days when Sentinel and young Optimus had not seen eye-to-eye, so very like Lord Megatron and the previous Lord Kaon. But those days had long passed and been filled in between with the bitterness of a secret war.

Megatron did not need "Orion's" trust, nor his affection. He required only his obedience until his usefulness had passed. If the lad retained some familial affection impressed upon him by the spell, that was all well and good, but it would take a bit more deception on Megatron's part to maintain his civility around the man who had gone from a student to a nemesis. Bajāna would ensure that Orion did not stray into anything he shouldn't while staying in Kaon House, but Megatron would have to make certain the rest of the staff did not disturb him. Translating the codices would take precedence, after all.

The whelp Optimus had passed the ring to would need to be dealt with, of course. But he doubted they would try to pass him off as a new Lord Prime, so that could wait. There would be time, and Orion would ultimately bring about the downfall of his own bloodline. He could only hope that Optimus's memory would not return before he had used that knowledge to destroy the House of Prime once and for all.