Original: "Trafalgar & Boone," Part 4
This installment almost got delayed! I have to read a book for Geek Speak (actually I wanted to read it so badly that I requested it) and I can only read it on the computer. That's writing time! But I shall endeavor to find a way to split my time between writing and reading. ::fingers crossed:: And since we're this far along I figured I might as well give people visual aids if they so desired. So here you go!
Dorothy Boone
Trafalgar (this actress is only 19 or 20, but when she gets a few more years under her belt she'd be about perfect)
Beatrice "Trix" Rhodes (a fact revealed in this segment should make this casting a bit clearer.
AO3
1920
THE TALE OF THE SIREN
A few years after moving into her new home, Dorothy bought the properties on either side of it to expand her various collections. She fortified both buildings, housing artifacts and items she’d brought home from her missions on the east while her devices and gadgets were kept on the west. She had hired contractors to change her third floor into an access corridor that crossed all three properties then bricked over the street entrances of the two personal museums to restrict access. She still kept the most sensitive or dangerous items in the attic of her townhouse; the security measures there were the oldest and stronger than the others. The items she’d brought back from her latest trip had been safely locked away, and she slept late despite hearing Beatrice clattering around in the kitchen below.
She finally rose when the doorbell rang. Some of her neighbors could be quite persnickety about her late-night returns, though she did try to keep as quiet as possible. There was also the chance it was one of her contacts with news about a dig. She’d been hoping for news about an expedition in South America that had been long-delayed due to funding issues and an obstinate government. She was out of her nightgown and mostly into her day clothes when there was a soft knock on the door.
“Come in, Trix.”
Beatrice entered, took a moment to admire the lace of Dorothy’s underwear, and then remembered her professionalism. “There’s a... caller to see you, Lady Boone.”
“Please tell me it’s Carson. If we dawdle, the French will get the drop on us and we’ll be left out in the cold.” Well, Carson’s expedition would. She would simple have to find a way to finagle a spot on the French team.
“No, ma’am. It’s not Mr. Echols. It... well, ma’am...”
Dorothy furrowed her brow, arms up to fix her hair. “Spit it out. Who was at the door?”
Beatrice’s eyes were wide with confusion and, now that she was looking for it, fear at how Dorothy would react. She swallowed the lump in her throat, a line appearing over the bridge of her nose as if she couldn’t believe what she was about to say.
“It’s Trafalgar. Ma’am.”
Dorothy dropped her hands, her hair still tangled from sleep and the bodice of her dress hanging unbuttoned. “She’s here? In the house?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Unattended?”
Beatrice’s eyes widened again as she realized her grave error. She turned and scurried from the room, and Dorothy paused only to arm herself with a baton before following her out. The third floor was clear, and both doors were still secured. Dorothy continued downstairs barefoot, wrinkles from her bedding still carved on her cheek as she burst into the parlor and brandished her baton like a sword at the back of her archrival’s overcoat.
Trafalgar, the mononymous archaeologist sometimes called Trafalgar of Abyssinia, stood regarding the bookshelf. The first mentions of the statuesque black woman occurred in the early days of 1910, but they started gaining steam during the Great War. Women were more visible as the boys marched off to war, and it was easier to justify their presence in business scenarios. She bought a home in Canning Town. She began encroaching into Dorothy’s circles, asking about expeditions requiring manpower that she might provide. Several of Dorothy’s contacts had asked if she knew that “brazen teapot” who was going around looking for busywork. It was only a matter of time before Trafalgar proved her worth by undercutting Dorothy, accepting meager wages in exchanged for being allowed to accompany the men on their digs.
Trafalgar turned at the sound of Dorothy’s clamorous entrance and raised an eyebrow, slowly lifting her hands out of her pockets. Underneath the coat she wore a high-collared white blouse, a brown leather vest, and a pair of white trousers. Her boots ended just above her ankles and, though there were no obvious weapons hidden on her, Dorothy couldn’t take the chance.
“Take off the jacket and toss it over that chair.”
“I assure you, I am unarmed.”
Dorothy gestured for her to get on with it, and Trafalgar took off the jacket, folded it along the center, and tossed it onto the indicated chair. She turned without being asked so Dorothy could see that she didn’t have any weapons tucked into her belt. When she was facing forward again she shrugged.
“Satisfied? May I put my hands down now?”
“No. How did things go on Quintel’s airship?”
“They went well. The mission was successful.”
Dorothy gestured at the fainting couch. As Trafalgar moved to sit, Dorothy stepped in the opposite direction to keep the distance between them. Beatrice slipped into the room and moved to stand just behind her lady.
Trafalgar sighed. “Is the weapon necessary?”
“Considering the last time we were in a room together you tossed me out the bloody window, I would say yes. Without a doubt.”
“Ah, yes. I hope you didn’t suffer too greatly.”
Dorothy resisted the urge to flex her right hand, long healed but never forgotten. “Nothing that didn’t heal. Why are you here?”
“I’ll not have this discussion at weapon-point. Put down the baton, Lady Boone.”
“Fine.” She dropped the baton with her right hand as she reached back with her left. Beatrice placed a gun against her palm and Dorothy swung it up. She took aim at Trafalgar’s head and rested her finger on the trigger guard. “You’ll say your piece, and then Trix will show you out. If you manage to not offend me, you’ll leave upright instead of tossed on your arse.”
Trafalgar sighed heavily and crossed her legs, cupping her hands around her knee. “Very well. I came here because I required your help.”
“Do you know what kenpo is? Beatrice would love to give you a demonstration.”
The girl unbuttoned her shirt cuffs and began calmly rolling up her sleeves.
“Last time you needed my help, it was as decoy. You required me to draw the gunfire of our enemy while you made away with the treasure. Pardon me for continuing to come back around to this, but you can imagine it’s hard to forgive and forget attempted homicide.”
Trafalgar rolled her eyes. “Please. If you were a lesser individual, I would never have tossed you out of that window. I had no doubt you would make it out intact.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence.”
“I need your help because I have run into an obstacle I cannot overcome. The color of my skin has closed certain doors to me.”
Dorothy sneered. “You’re pretty good at getting those doors to open.”
“Oh, please. You have money. You can buy your way through the proper channels. As long as you have cash, you’ll always be welcome on expeditions. I do not have that luxury.”
“My heart bleeds.”
Trafalgar stood and Dorothy gestured with the weapon. “That’s not necessary. If you want me to go once I’ve pleaded my case, I will gladly do so without bloodying your girl’s knuckles. On the other hand, if you agree with my suggestion we can sit like civilized people.”
“Speak quickly.”
Trafalgar said, “It has come to my attention that a certain tomb has been discovered and an expedition is being planned. This tomb must not be opened and the items within cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. I would have attempted to gain access on my own, but I know the man putting together the team. Negresses need not apply. If this was any other expedition or if there was less at stake, I would simply have dropped you a suggestion and gone onto the next acquisition. However I believe it is imperative that something is done. I will provide you with all the information I’ve gathered to date in exchange for your assurance you will get me on the dig.”
Dorothy said, “What makes you think I can get you on the expedition?”
“Because I will be presented as your servant.”
Beatrice snickered, and Dorothy shot her a warning glance before focusing on Trafalgar again.
“I accept that doing this will cause me to lose quite a bit of my hard-won dignity, no offense to your girl. Since arriving in London I’ve made it my goal to be seen as more than a maid, a servant, a second-class citizen. But I will gladly don the black garb of a maid if it means I will be present to stop these men from succeeding in their goal.”
Beatrice muttered, “Maybe I oughta toss her around a bit just for fun.”
“You must understand my meaning, my dear,” Trafalgar said. “With your white skin you have the benefit of people assuming you have options. When they see a woman of my color in subservience they think it is because that is my lot in life.”
“It’s not such a terrible life,” Beatrice said defiantly. “And if you’d bother to look closely, my skin isn’t white. My mother was Chinese, father was British. I don’t need you lecturing me about appearances.”
Dorothy said, “Trix. Why don’t you go upstairs and tidy my bedchamber?” She looked at the girl, half-pleading with her eyes. She couldn’t fight a battle on two different fronts.
“As you wish, ma’am.” Beatrice kept her eyes on Trafalgar until she turned to leave the room.
“I meant no offense.”
“You create a lot of unintended consequences in your wake, don’t you? What’s so important about this particular dig? Why’d you quote-unquote degrade yourself to be on it?”
“Because this particular tomb holds one of the most powerful mages to ever walk the Earth. She is called Lamia, a half-serpent abomination. She was destroyed a knight on a holy quest, but only her body was entombed. Her spirit still lives and, under the proper circumstances, can be reunited with her corpse. She will siphon the life force from anyone in the room when she wakes in order to return to vitality, and then she will renew her reign of terror. The men seeking her believe that she can be controlled, that they can put a yoke on her and point her at their enemies. They will be signing their own death warrants the moment they unseal her crypt. If you and I are there, we can save not only them but the countless victims she’ll claim if she is allowed to wake.”
“How do you know about her?”
“Because the men who took me from my home attempted to use me as a host for her power. I felt her darkness coursing through my veins and I knew what she was capable of doing if I allowed her to wake even at a fraction of her power. Now that her body has been found it is only a matter of time before we face her at full power. Unless we can prevent it.”
Dorothy wasn’t sure at which point she had lowered her weapon, but she was no longer aiming it at Trafalgar. She had heard of Lamia, of course, and all the texts assured future generations that Lamia’s body would never be found. The idea of reuniting her body with its soul was so farfetched as to be ridiculous. And yet, if Trafalgar was telling the truth... and why would she lie about something so massive?
“Where do we begin?” Dorothy asked.
“Perhaps you would look to finish getting dressed first.”
Dorothy looked down at herself, the unbuttoned dress that draped open to reveal her underthings, her feet bare on the carpet. She tucked the gun into her belt and stepped around the divan to sit down. She rested her elbows on her knees and leaned forward, indicating the seat across from her. When Trafalgar was seated, Dorothy clasped her hands together.
“All right, Trafalgar. Tell me what you know about Lamia’s crypt.”
#
By all accounts Dorothy had found, and a story confirmed by Trafalgar’s research, Lamia had been born an ordinary woman whose name was lost to history. Her father was high priest in an occultist sect dedicated to raising a demonic being to do their bidding. He elected his daughter to be host, as the ritual specifically requested a female sacrifice. Her body was painted with the profane symbols, and a stone carved with Lamia’s name was placed in her mouth. The sect performed the proper ceremony and the girl was transformed. Scales erupted on her legs, which then tangled together like vines until her lower body resembled that of a serpent. The bones in her torso and arms popped as they stretched, her fingers becoming talons as she rolled to the floor and lashed out at those mortals that had brought her into being.
She killed them all and feasted on their bones, then set out to find her next meal. She was capable of resuming her human form when necessary for reproduction, seducing mortal men for their seed. Her children were born in the sea and quickly spread out to infest other shores. Sailors who encountered the offspring called them mermaids or sirens, falling victim to their songs and crashing into the rocks. Commerce slowed to a halt as it became far too dangerous sending men out to sea, and various powers began sending their armies out to hunt Lamia.
Trafalgar explained this in Dorothy’s parlor, pausing only when Beatrice came to bring in sandwiches and tea. Dorothy took advantage of the distraction to absorb all that she had heard. Trafalgar had books and hand-written copies of reference pages she’d brought for visual aids. Drawings of Lamia and her offspring abounded. Everyone knew of the mermaids that still haunted the Caribbean and Med, though sightings were few and far between in the past century. When Lamia was killed they lost most of their thrall and became mere curiosities.
“I truly meant no offense to your girl...”
“Her name is Beatrice.”
Trafalgar nodded and picked up one of the crustless sandwiches. “Surely she can understand the stigma of an African woman choosing to take on the part of a servant. I worked very hard to avoid that scenario and to accept it willingly.”
“Needs must,” Dorothy said as she ate one quarter of a sandwich. “Who eventually succeeded in killing Lamia?”
“The Ottomans. They lured her to Crimea, to the shores of the Black Sea, and overwhelmed her with sheer numbers. They bound her and scorched the symbols from her flesh with hot pokers. They poured burning oil into her mouth to erase the symbols burned into her tongue by the stone that had first transformed her, then sewed her lips shut so the ritual couldn’t be repeated. With her power removed her body became inert. They buried her in a crypt they believed would remain undisturbed until the end of time, and they found the stone used to imbue the girl’s body with the demon’s spirit. They hid it as well, far away from the crypt, in the hopes they would never be reunited. But someone has found the stone, and they’ve spent the past fifty years attempting to find the crypt so they can bring her back to life.”
“You said they tried to make you Lumia’s host. If they have the stone, why don’t they just find someone to be Lumia and forget about the crypt?”
“A new host would be but a shadow of the original. Like the mermaids and sirens, a new Lumia would be nowhere near as powerful. The first ritual bound the bulk of her powers in the body of the first host. They need the corpse to get what they think they want.” She sighed and shook her head. “She will slaughter them all, as she did with the men who woke her in the first place.”
“And you think her crypt has been uncovered.”
Trafalgar nodded. “A cove in Sudak Bay. They have no idea what they’ve discovered and I fear that if I were to warn them it would only increase their greed. They will call Lumia a myth and a folktale and advertise the discovery of her corpse. I fear those who possess the stone will have already learned of the discovery. They could have men on the expedition team as well. Lady Boone, I would not have come here and asked your help out of anything other than desperation. The expedition leaves within the month, and we must move quickly to get you invited if you’re not to be left behind.”
“You must have known how I’d react to your arrival. You could have gone to any number of collectors. Why did you choose me, given our history?”
“Because if I have any hope of success, I cannot waste time with amateurs. You are the best in the business, Lady Boone.”
Dorothy leaned forward. “Better than you?”
“Don’t push your luck. But if this works, and if it will make you feel better, you may celebrate our victory by throwing me out of a window on the way home.”
Dorothy couldn’t help but laugh at the suggestion. “Watch your tongue, Miss Trafalgar, there’s a good chance I will take you up on that. But I don’t see why we have to waste time with subterfuge. You said the expedition you want to infiltrate may already be compromised. Why waste time with a ruse? They leave within the month, then we shall leave within the week.”
“We’ve hardly the time to gather the funds or backing...”
“Nonsense. You came to me because I am the best, and I am the best because I don’t waste time cowtowing to funders. We will leave in three days, Miss Trafalgar. I trust you can be ready by then.”
“Yes. Of course.”
Dorothy stood and finally began to button the front of her dress. “Very good. I’ll arrange for our transport. Preferably something with many windows that can be easily opened. Just in case I want to take you up on your generous offer.”
Dorothy Boone
Trafalgar (this actress is only 19 or 20, but when she gets a few more years under her belt she'd be about perfect)
Beatrice "Trix" Rhodes (a fact revealed in this segment should make this casting a bit clearer.
AO3
1920
THE TALE OF THE SIREN
A few years after moving into her new home, Dorothy bought the properties on either side of it to expand her various collections. She fortified both buildings, housing artifacts and items she’d brought home from her missions on the east while her devices and gadgets were kept on the west. She had hired contractors to change her third floor into an access corridor that crossed all three properties then bricked over the street entrances of the two personal museums to restrict access. She still kept the most sensitive or dangerous items in the attic of her townhouse; the security measures there were the oldest and stronger than the others. The items she’d brought back from her latest trip had been safely locked away, and she slept late despite hearing Beatrice clattering around in the kitchen below.
She finally rose when the doorbell rang. Some of her neighbors could be quite persnickety about her late-night returns, though she did try to keep as quiet as possible. There was also the chance it was one of her contacts with news about a dig. She’d been hoping for news about an expedition in South America that had been long-delayed due to funding issues and an obstinate government. She was out of her nightgown and mostly into her day clothes when there was a soft knock on the door.
“Come in, Trix.”
Beatrice entered, took a moment to admire the lace of Dorothy’s underwear, and then remembered her professionalism. “There’s a... caller to see you, Lady Boone.”
“Please tell me it’s Carson. If we dawdle, the French will get the drop on us and we’ll be left out in the cold.” Well, Carson’s expedition would. She would simple have to find a way to finagle a spot on the French team.
“No, ma’am. It’s not Mr. Echols. It... well, ma’am...”
Dorothy furrowed her brow, arms up to fix her hair. “Spit it out. Who was at the door?”
Beatrice’s eyes were wide with confusion and, now that she was looking for it, fear at how Dorothy would react. She swallowed the lump in her throat, a line appearing over the bridge of her nose as if she couldn’t believe what she was about to say.
“It’s Trafalgar. Ma’am.”
Dorothy dropped her hands, her hair still tangled from sleep and the bodice of her dress hanging unbuttoned. “She’s here? In the house?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Unattended?”
Beatrice’s eyes widened again as she realized her grave error. She turned and scurried from the room, and Dorothy paused only to arm herself with a baton before following her out. The third floor was clear, and both doors were still secured. Dorothy continued downstairs barefoot, wrinkles from her bedding still carved on her cheek as she burst into the parlor and brandished her baton like a sword at the back of her archrival’s overcoat.
Trafalgar, the mononymous archaeologist sometimes called Trafalgar of Abyssinia, stood regarding the bookshelf. The first mentions of the statuesque black woman occurred in the early days of 1910, but they started gaining steam during the Great War. Women were more visible as the boys marched off to war, and it was easier to justify their presence in business scenarios. She bought a home in Canning Town. She began encroaching into Dorothy’s circles, asking about expeditions requiring manpower that she might provide. Several of Dorothy’s contacts had asked if she knew that “brazen teapot” who was going around looking for busywork. It was only a matter of time before Trafalgar proved her worth by undercutting Dorothy, accepting meager wages in exchanged for being allowed to accompany the men on their digs.
Trafalgar turned at the sound of Dorothy’s clamorous entrance and raised an eyebrow, slowly lifting her hands out of her pockets. Underneath the coat she wore a high-collared white blouse, a brown leather vest, and a pair of white trousers. Her boots ended just above her ankles and, though there were no obvious weapons hidden on her, Dorothy couldn’t take the chance.
“Take off the jacket and toss it over that chair.”
“I assure you, I am unarmed.”
Dorothy gestured for her to get on with it, and Trafalgar took off the jacket, folded it along the center, and tossed it onto the indicated chair. She turned without being asked so Dorothy could see that she didn’t have any weapons tucked into her belt. When she was facing forward again she shrugged.
“Satisfied? May I put my hands down now?”
“No. How did things go on Quintel’s airship?”
“They went well. The mission was successful.”
Dorothy gestured at the fainting couch. As Trafalgar moved to sit, Dorothy stepped in the opposite direction to keep the distance between them. Beatrice slipped into the room and moved to stand just behind her lady.
Trafalgar sighed. “Is the weapon necessary?”
“Considering the last time we were in a room together you tossed me out the bloody window, I would say yes. Without a doubt.”
“Ah, yes. I hope you didn’t suffer too greatly.”
Dorothy resisted the urge to flex her right hand, long healed but never forgotten. “Nothing that didn’t heal. Why are you here?”
“I’ll not have this discussion at weapon-point. Put down the baton, Lady Boone.”
“Fine.” She dropped the baton with her right hand as she reached back with her left. Beatrice placed a gun against her palm and Dorothy swung it up. She took aim at Trafalgar’s head and rested her finger on the trigger guard. “You’ll say your piece, and then Trix will show you out. If you manage to not offend me, you’ll leave upright instead of tossed on your arse.”
Trafalgar sighed heavily and crossed her legs, cupping her hands around her knee. “Very well. I came here because I required your help.”
“Do you know what kenpo is? Beatrice would love to give you a demonstration.”
The girl unbuttoned her shirt cuffs and began calmly rolling up her sleeves.
“Last time you needed my help, it was as decoy. You required me to draw the gunfire of our enemy while you made away with the treasure. Pardon me for continuing to come back around to this, but you can imagine it’s hard to forgive and forget attempted homicide.”
Trafalgar rolled her eyes. “Please. If you were a lesser individual, I would never have tossed you out of that window. I had no doubt you would make it out intact.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence.”
“I need your help because I have run into an obstacle I cannot overcome. The color of my skin has closed certain doors to me.”
Dorothy sneered. “You’re pretty good at getting those doors to open.”
“Oh, please. You have money. You can buy your way through the proper channels. As long as you have cash, you’ll always be welcome on expeditions. I do not have that luxury.”
“My heart bleeds.”
Trafalgar stood and Dorothy gestured with the weapon. “That’s not necessary. If you want me to go once I’ve pleaded my case, I will gladly do so without bloodying your girl’s knuckles. On the other hand, if you agree with my suggestion we can sit like civilized people.”
“Speak quickly.”
Trafalgar said, “It has come to my attention that a certain tomb has been discovered and an expedition is being planned. This tomb must not be opened and the items within cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. I would have attempted to gain access on my own, but I know the man putting together the team. Negresses need not apply. If this was any other expedition or if there was less at stake, I would simply have dropped you a suggestion and gone onto the next acquisition. However I believe it is imperative that something is done. I will provide you with all the information I’ve gathered to date in exchange for your assurance you will get me on the dig.”
Dorothy said, “What makes you think I can get you on the expedition?”
“Because I will be presented as your servant.”
Beatrice snickered, and Dorothy shot her a warning glance before focusing on Trafalgar again.
“I accept that doing this will cause me to lose quite a bit of my hard-won dignity, no offense to your girl. Since arriving in London I’ve made it my goal to be seen as more than a maid, a servant, a second-class citizen. But I will gladly don the black garb of a maid if it means I will be present to stop these men from succeeding in their goal.”
Beatrice muttered, “Maybe I oughta toss her around a bit just for fun.”
“You must understand my meaning, my dear,” Trafalgar said. “With your white skin you have the benefit of people assuming you have options. When they see a woman of my color in subservience they think it is because that is my lot in life.”
“It’s not such a terrible life,” Beatrice said defiantly. “And if you’d bother to look closely, my skin isn’t white. My mother was Chinese, father was British. I don’t need you lecturing me about appearances.”
Dorothy said, “Trix. Why don’t you go upstairs and tidy my bedchamber?” She looked at the girl, half-pleading with her eyes. She couldn’t fight a battle on two different fronts.
“As you wish, ma’am.” Beatrice kept her eyes on Trafalgar until she turned to leave the room.
“I meant no offense.”
“You create a lot of unintended consequences in your wake, don’t you? What’s so important about this particular dig? Why’d you quote-unquote degrade yourself to be on it?”
“Because this particular tomb holds one of the most powerful mages to ever walk the Earth. She is called Lamia, a half-serpent abomination. She was destroyed a knight on a holy quest, but only her body was entombed. Her spirit still lives and, under the proper circumstances, can be reunited with her corpse. She will siphon the life force from anyone in the room when she wakes in order to return to vitality, and then she will renew her reign of terror. The men seeking her believe that she can be controlled, that they can put a yoke on her and point her at their enemies. They will be signing their own death warrants the moment they unseal her crypt. If you and I are there, we can save not only them but the countless victims she’ll claim if she is allowed to wake.”
“How do you know about her?”
“Because the men who took me from my home attempted to use me as a host for her power. I felt her darkness coursing through my veins and I knew what she was capable of doing if I allowed her to wake even at a fraction of her power. Now that her body has been found it is only a matter of time before we face her at full power. Unless we can prevent it.”
Dorothy wasn’t sure at which point she had lowered her weapon, but she was no longer aiming it at Trafalgar. She had heard of Lamia, of course, and all the texts assured future generations that Lamia’s body would never be found. The idea of reuniting her body with its soul was so farfetched as to be ridiculous. And yet, if Trafalgar was telling the truth... and why would she lie about something so massive?
“Where do we begin?” Dorothy asked.
“Perhaps you would look to finish getting dressed first.”
Dorothy looked down at herself, the unbuttoned dress that draped open to reveal her underthings, her feet bare on the carpet. She tucked the gun into her belt and stepped around the divan to sit down. She rested her elbows on her knees and leaned forward, indicating the seat across from her. When Trafalgar was seated, Dorothy clasped her hands together.
“All right, Trafalgar. Tell me what you know about Lamia’s crypt.”
#
By all accounts Dorothy had found, and a story confirmed by Trafalgar’s research, Lamia had been born an ordinary woman whose name was lost to history. Her father was high priest in an occultist sect dedicated to raising a demonic being to do their bidding. He elected his daughter to be host, as the ritual specifically requested a female sacrifice. Her body was painted with the profane symbols, and a stone carved with Lamia’s name was placed in her mouth. The sect performed the proper ceremony and the girl was transformed. Scales erupted on her legs, which then tangled together like vines until her lower body resembled that of a serpent. The bones in her torso and arms popped as they stretched, her fingers becoming talons as she rolled to the floor and lashed out at those mortals that had brought her into being.
She killed them all and feasted on their bones, then set out to find her next meal. She was capable of resuming her human form when necessary for reproduction, seducing mortal men for their seed. Her children were born in the sea and quickly spread out to infest other shores. Sailors who encountered the offspring called them mermaids or sirens, falling victim to their songs and crashing into the rocks. Commerce slowed to a halt as it became far too dangerous sending men out to sea, and various powers began sending their armies out to hunt Lamia.
Trafalgar explained this in Dorothy’s parlor, pausing only when Beatrice came to bring in sandwiches and tea. Dorothy took advantage of the distraction to absorb all that she had heard. Trafalgar had books and hand-written copies of reference pages she’d brought for visual aids. Drawings of Lamia and her offspring abounded. Everyone knew of the mermaids that still haunted the Caribbean and Med, though sightings were few and far between in the past century. When Lamia was killed they lost most of their thrall and became mere curiosities.
“I truly meant no offense to your girl...”
“Her name is Beatrice.”
Trafalgar nodded and picked up one of the crustless sandwiches. “Surely she can understand the stigma of an African woman choosing to take on the part of a servant. I worked very hard to avoid that scenario and to accept it willingly.”
“Needs must,” Dorothy said as she ate one quarter of a sandwich. “Who eventually succeeded in killing Lamia?”
“The Ottomans. They lured her to Crimea, to the shores of the Black Sea, and overwhelmed her with sheer numbers. They bound her and scorched the symbols from her flesh with hot pokers. They poured burning oil into her mouth to erase the symbols burned into her tongue by the stone that had first transformed her, then sewed her lips shut so the ritual couldn’t be repeated. With her power removed her body became inert. They buried her in a crypt they believed would remain undisturbed until the end of time, and they found the stone used to imbue the girl’s body with the demon’s spirit. They hid it as well, far away from the crypt, in the hopes they would never be reunited. But someone has found the stone, and they’ve spent the past fifty years attempting to find the crypt so they can bring her back to life.”
“You said they tried to make you Lumia’s host. If they have the stone, why don’t they just find someone to be Lumia and forget about the crypt?”
“A new host would be but a shadow of the original. Like the mermaids and sirens, a new Lumia would be nowhere near as powerful. The first ritual bound the bulk of her powers in the body of the first host. They need the corpse to get what they think they want.” She sighed and shook her head. “She will slaughter them all, as she did with the men who woke her in the first place.”
“And you think her crypt has been uncovered.”
Trafalgar nodded. “A cove in Sudak Bay. They have no idea what they’ve discovered and I fear that if I were to warn them it would only increase their greed. They will call Lumia a myth and a folktale and advertise the discovery of her corpse. I fear those who possess the stone will have already learned of the discovery. They could have men on the expedition team as well. Lady Boone, I would not have come here and asked your help out of anything other than desperation. The expedition leaves within the month, and we must move quickly to get you invited if you’re not to be left behind.”
“You must have known how I’d react to your arrival. You could have gone to any number of collectors. Why did you choose me, given our history?”
“Because if I have any hope of success, I cannot waste time with amateurs. You are the best in the business, Lady Boone.”
Dorothy leaned forward. “Better than you?”
“Don’t push your luck. But if this works, and if it will make you feel better, you may celebrate our victory by throwing me out of a window on the way home.”
Dorothy couldn’t help but laugh at the suggestion. “Watch your tongue, Miss Trafalgar, there’s a good chance I will take you up on that. But I don’t see why we have to waste time with subterfuge. You said the expedition you want to infiltrate may already be compromised. Why waste time with a ruse? They leave within the month, then we shall leave within the week.”
“We’ve hardly the time to gather the funds or backing...”
“Nonsense. You came to me because I am the best, and I am the best because I don’t waste time cowtowing to funders. We will leave in three days, Miss Trafalgar. I trust you can be ready by then.”
“Yes. Of course.”
Dorothy stood and finally began to button the front of her dress. “Very good. I’ll arrange for our transport. Preferably something with many windows that can be easily opened. Just in case I want to take you up on your generous offer.”