Competence Read online

  Primrose bristled and so did Tasherit. “We really are only trying to get to a hotel of some kind. Then we will both be out of your hair.”

  The captain looked upset until the lioness yawned again. “Oh, very well. Let me escort you to…” He went to offer his arm to Primrose once more, very brave considering how close the cat sat at Prim’s side.

  Tasherit hissed at him again. She did not want his company.

  “I assure you we will be fine.” Prim nudged the cat with one foot to stop her from causing any more of a scene.

  “Miss…”

  “Hisselpenny.”

  “Miss Hisselpenny, you can’t go wandering around alone with an untethered lioness. It’s simply not done. Especially with the merlion rumours.”

  “Again, merlion, what does this word mean?”

  Miss Sekhmet cocked her head, also interested.

  “A sort of supernatural spirit animal, half lion, half fish. Supposedly one was spotted in the harbour only yesterday.”

  “And this is connected to us, up here on a dirigible station, how?”

  “Well, that is a lioness.”

  “I assure you, she has no tail.”

  “You’re positive?”

  Primrose shook her head at the absurdity of this conversation. “Aside from the one you see lashing right at this very moment.”

  “Well, then…”

  “Captain, if I assure you that this lioness is” - Prim searched for a way to be truthful, because she couldn’t very well call Miss Sekhmet tame - “disciplined and well behaved, could we be allowed to get on? Then we will be safely out of the public eye. We are rather causing a fuss here.”

  And they were. A crowd had gathered around them in a wide circle to stare curiously at the pretty Englishwoman with the unbound hair, the handsome young station captain, and the lioness in the straw bonnet.

  The captain looked about, apparently just noticing their audience. “I feel I ought to fine you or something.”

  “For having an unlicened lioness?”

  Captain Lu looked embarrassed. “Well, yes.”

  Primrose shook her head and crossed her arms. “Well, go on then.”

  The young man whipped out a notepad and began scribbling on it with a stylus.

  The crowd, now realising this was devolving into that most common and uninteresting of occurrences, the traffic infraction, began to disperse. Although a few attempted to touch Miss Sekhmet, she hissed at them and they thought better of it. She was, it must be admitted, a great deal less fierce in the straw bonnet. But Prim left it on her, because she had only one free hand as it was, and she needed that for her gun, just in case.

  The young man handed her the slip, which Prim glanced down at with interest. It was written in English, which somehow surprised her. She had expected some of those lovely Chinese swirly characters. But she supposed official language meant officially written language as well.

  The fee was nominal and she could have Rue pay it to the station, once the Spotted Custard returned to pick her up. If they returned.

  At the bottom Captain Lu had scrawled a wheystation quadrant address, possibly his own. How very presumptuous.

  Prim looked up, blue eyes narrowed. “What’s this, then, sir?”

  “My direction, miss.” He blushed quite red. “I mean to say, that of my posting station. In case you need further assistance. That’s my office. You can find me there most nights, or send a runner.”

  This was accompanied by what could only be described as puppy dog eyes.

  Oh dear, thought Primrose, not too surprised, I’ve made a conquest.

  The lioness gave a funny huff noise that was likely her version of a snort, and turning, began to trot away once again. Her long tail was held aloft, the white tip twitching only slightly, flag-like.

  Primrose nodded a farewell to her erstwhile captain and followed quickly after. “Slow down, you! This is what started the whole mess.”

  Primrose didn’t turn back to see, but she thought she heard the young man laughing.

  Well, I guess I brightened up his evening.

  Tasherit eventually brought them to the door of a respectable-looking hotel. Full of foreigners, of course, but then again this was a foreign land so Prim didn’t quite know what she was expecting. Everyone seemed nice enough. And who was she to complain, gallivanting about with a lioness?

  She ascertained that they had available rooms and accepted pets, ignoring Tasherit’s hiss at the use of that word. The hotel staff were not as upset as they ought to be to find Primrose travelling alone as a female, although they were shocked that her pet proved to be a lioness. By the time they noticed this (Tasherit put both massive paws onto the reception bar and then stood on her hind legs to look the clerk in his gobsmacked face) Prim already had key in hand, a room number in mind, and was bustling off. She ignored their cries of “Miss, miss, is that a big cat? Miss, I don’t think that qualifies as a p…”

  Primrose unlocked their room door, grateful that this strange land did not provide porters or hostesses. It was a novel thing to enter a room without guidance. It was fortuitous, however, because the moment they were alone, Tasherit shifted form.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” said Prim, hiding her face behind her own hands and not watching. She would absolutely not look. Well, maybe just a little peek.

  Primrose could never get accustomed to the sound. The wet snapping and crunching of bones and flesh breaking and reforming itself. The lioness hissed in pain and then, out the other end, whimpered very softly. It had to be agony, for Miss Sekhmet was an incredibly strong woman, to be brought low enough to whimper. It hurt Prim’s teeth even thinking about it.

  Prim unclenched her jaw but did not drop her hands until she had turned away from the noise. She upended the carpet bag onto the small single bed and ruffled through the contents.

  Triumphant, she recognised the pile of fuchsia silk as one of Tasherit’s many robes, and went to toss it to her.

  Except there was warm breath and golden skin right next to her, and one graceful arm reached around to pluck the robe from her suddenly slack grasp.

  “Mine? Thank you.”

  For the life of her, Primrose could not fathom why the presence of Tasherit in human form had such a profound effect on her breathing. She assumed it was some mixture of awe and terror. After all, Prim had seen the lioness rend asunder more than one man in battle. And yet Prim was not scared of Tasherit in cat form.

  Perhaps it was her force of personality? So stubborn and fierce, regal, or worse, playful. Or perhaps it was the way she smelled, of amber and apricots.

  Primrose twisted her engagement ring under one glove self-consciously and took a long deep breath, shifting subtly away from proximity to the naked supernatural creature.

  Uncaring, Tasherit swung the robe on and belted it with a wide colourful scarf, also from the carpet bag pile.

  Prim turned to face her, watching as she combed through her thick straight hair with careless fingers. Prim’s own fingers twitched.

  Forcing herself to focus elsewhere, Primrose bent over the objects scattered on the bed. As I predicted, nothing as sensible as a comb. No night-rail either, charming. And what am I meant to sleep in, Rue?

  She plucked up her ribbon-not-leash and went to a nearby metal mirror to fuss her hair back into some semblance of order.

  Sekhmet handed her the straw bonnet.

  “Rue said you’d want something different for when daylight rolls around.”

  “Well, at least she remembered something important.”

  “We’re stuck here until they determine the source of the problem.”

  “Percy’s ego?” suggested Primrose, pertly.

  “I mean, the source of the leak.”

  “Percy’s long-winded explanations?”

  “Your brother is not so bad.”

  “You only say that because you are a cat and he likes cats.”


  “Mmm. Shall we find some supper before sunrise?”

  “You are always hungry.”

  “You noticed?”

  “I’m in charge of ship’s stores, of course I noticed.”

  “It’s a cat thing.”

  Primrose tried to hide a smile. “Of course it is. That’s your excuse for everything.”

  Tasherit lounged on the bed, looking smug and exotic and totally relaxed. One long naked leg sprawled out of the robe. “Well, it’s a good excuse when it’s true.”

  Prim glanced away and finished with her hair. That will have to do for now.

  Prim decided they were in dangerous verbal territory and she ought to change the topic. “Do we have time for me to review my correspondences?”

  “Do you have many?”

  Prim sorted through the letters she’d collected from the Royal Post drop point. “Three?”

  “Oh, very well.” The lioness smiled at her and moved over slightly on the bed, making room.

  That seemed far too dangerous an invitation, so Primrose pretended not to notice and went with her letters to sit on a tuffet at the vanity instead.

  She opened the one from her mother first.

  “Tiddles, darling girl! I can’t believe you are traipsing off to Singapore. Are you mad? It’s savage and full of curry and coconuts and whatnot. Very dangerous things, coconuts. Can’t be relied upon at all. Too hard, too rolly, covered in hair, and filled with water. I meant to say, what kind of nut is that? Come home, child, do. Your fiance is waiting for you. He’s been most attentive. Or he was most attentive, now he seems to have vanished but I’m sure he’ll resurface if you return to the bosom of your beloved family.”

  Primrose frowned and considered said fiance. Lt Norman Plonks was one in a long line to have held the rather tarnished title of the Honourable Miss Primrose Tunstell’s affianced. Lt Norman Plonks. A good man. Or so she felt after three consecutive dances and four well-supervised social calls over tea and tiny cakes. The man had excellent taste in flowers - he’d sent her hydrangeas, not primroses. And he proposed using a decent ring, not too big, not too small. No doubt he would be a decent husband. What more had Prim to go on than those truths society permitted her to ascertain? He cut a dashing leg at a ball, could order bouquets with the best of them, and did not slosh his tea. Not a bad way to start married life.

  Then again, she would have to go home to marry the blighter. Return to England. And give over adventuring. Primrose Tunstell was beginning to find, much to her own surprise, that she rather enjoyed adventuring. Except for the times when there were shootings and injuries and such. But the rest of it was rather exhilarating - exotic lands and strange foods and new experiences. She’d met supernatural creatures the world didn’t know existed, until the Spotted Custard spotted them. She’d seen Percy eat a chili pepper, which was fun for everyone - except Percy.

  Was Lt Plonks’s excellent taste in hydrangeas enough to summon her back home?

  Not just yet, I think.

  She twisted the ring on her finger again.

  “That a letter from your fiance?” Tasherit’s warm voice interrupted, slightly sharpened by irritation.

  “No, my mother.”

  “You’re playing with that stupid ring again.”

  “It’s a very nice ring. Now hush and let me finish my letter. You’re only grumpy because you’re hungry.”

  “What does she say, your mother?” Cats, always curious.

  Primrose continued scanning the note. “Nothing of any import or merit. It is, after all, my mother.”

  Baroness Ivy Tunstell was an accidental vampire queen of unexpected power and influence, considering she was also, frankly, quite silly.

  Much of Primrose’s own competent nature had developed as a defence against her mother’s countless eccentricities. Eccentricities that had, due to Ivy’s vastly important position in society as a highly ranked female supernatural, been encouraged and overblown rather than nicely shoved under the carpet where they rightfully belonged. If Primrose had learned anything from her unusual childhood in a vampire hive, it was this: do not give untapped wealth and social influence to a woman whose greatest love in life is increasingly outrageous hats.

  Prim continued scanning the letter. “In between the lines, and likely accidentally, Mother relays somewhat interesting gossip. The London pack has relocated to Greenwich and had dealings with some sort of cult. Apparently there was an offensive waistcoat involved. Speaking of waistcoats, Rue’s Uncle Lyall has returned home, that will make everyone happy. We met him in India, before you were with us in any official capacity. Nice werewolf. And Mother says something about my great aunt’s schoolmate’s youngest offspring who might do for the Custard. Whatever that means.”

  “Is it in code?” Tasherit asked, not illogically given the peculiar nature of the information.

  “No, sadly, it’s my mother’s way.”

  “Wow.”

  “I find it best to imagine she is inebriated. At all times. She isn’t, of course, but…” Prim shrugged. How to explain Ivy Tunstell to those who had never met her before. “It makes her more tolerable. Alternatively, you could imagine yourself inebriated, or get that way before having to interact with her. Percy sometimes takes that tactic.”

  “You and Percy make a great deal more logical sense now.”

  “Do we?” Primrose put down the ridiculous letter from her mother and picked up the next one, which was from her fiance. No doubt her mother had told him they were headed to Singapore, if he wished to send along a missive. She rather dreaded it for some reason.

  Think of the lovely hydrangeas.

  “My dearest Miss Tunstell. My heart aches as I pen this. I am ashamed it must be done via the written word, and not in person, as your good standing and good self might justifiably expect a proper audience.” Oh dear, thought Prim, this is a weighty matter. Is he…? “But with you journeying ever further away from me and our fair isle, I am afraid that I must regretfully inform you that honour compels me to call off our engagement.” Ah, extended exposure to my mother has had its effect. So much for a well-turned leg.

  “Who is that one from?” Tasherit wanted to know as Prim began frowning.

  “My fiance.”

  Tasherit went quiet, letting her read.

  The letter continued. “It’s simply too much. You are too much for me, too good, too concerned with weighty matters, too occupied by the condition of the Empire. You deserve a better, more worldly man. Yours etc. Lt Norman Plonks.” And so, for the first time, a gentleman is throwing me over. How unexpected. What sensation does this engender in me? Am I saddened? Is my heart crushed? No, that’s more likely hunger. It’s been ages since luncheon. Oh well.

  Prim folded it and tucked it away. Tasherit’s liquid brown eyes in her impossibly beautiful face were focused on her with an odd unreadable expression. “And how is your young man?”

  Primrose did not feel like telling her the truth. Some strange protective instinct, or her own embarrassment at having entered into the engagement to begin with, held her back from confessing all. “Oh, he is well, sends his regards.”

  “Not his love?”

  “Gentlemen do not speak of such things. They certainly don’t write of them!”

  “You deserve love, little one.”

  Prim sniffed. “Don’t be daft. Now who’s this last from? I don’t recognise the hand.”

  The seal looked somewhat official and the script was a bold one. Primrose cracked and opened the letter, glancing down at the signature to see who it might be.

  “Oh, it’s from Lady Maccon.” Her voice registered only some of her considerable surprise.

  “Rue’s mother? What could she want with you?” Tasherit’s eyebrows went up.

  The werecat and the soulless had met and been civil enough, but Rue’s mother was a force of nature (or perhaps more accurately, a force of the unnatural), and no cat enjoys that sort of c
ompetition. They hadn’t exactly been chummy. Plus, most of Lady Maccon’s time aboard the Spotted Custard had been spent high up in the aether, and the werecat always fell into a deep sleep whenever the ship entered the aetherosphere.

  Prim scanned the short letter. Then scanned it again. It was full of inane pleasantries and didn’t sound like Lady Maccon at all.

  Only one sentence stood out: “Do make a note in the Ledger about extra milk.”

  The Ledger was Primrose’s code name in Lady Maccon’s Parasol Protectorate espionage ring.

  That phrase meant the whole letter was likely in cypher. Primrose waved it at Tasherit. “Only banalities.” The werecat was not a member of that particular club. If Lady Maccon wanted something kept private, Primrose would hold her peace despite those beautiful liquid brown eyes.

  “That’s not like her.”

  “No it isn’t.” Prim shrugged. “But perhaps she has nothing to say, being retired from society and residing in Egypt.”

  Prim folded the letter carefully and stuck it into her secret skirt pocket next to her gun. It was likely the missive employed the Isinglass code, which meant she needed the book Sand and Shadows on a Sapphire Sea: My Adventures Abroad by Honeysuckle Isinglass, to decipher what it said. That book was back aboard the Spotted Custard.

  She glanced through the rest of the letters and noted another one, addressed to Rue, in a similar bold script. She took that one and tucked it down the front of her corset, still sealed. She would never read a letter addressed to someone else, but she would keep it as safe as possible.

  Tasherit watched this action with interest.

  “Shall we find a teahouse or ascertain if the hotel serves after hours?” Prim asked, distracting the cat with food. As you do.

  “I’ve never done very well with teahouses. Let’s see what the hotel has on offer.”

  Tasherit presented her arm, as if she were a gentleman and Primrose a lady. Well, Primrose was a lady, but Tasherit was no gentleman. Still, Prim didn’t wish to appear churlish so she took it and together they made their way downstairs to the dining room.