““Ambrose has been meeting with various members of the incoming regiments,” Lord Akeldama had informed him over an aged scotch—a warm fire in the grate and a plump calico cat on his knee. “At first I thought it was simply opiates or some other form of illegal trade, but now I believe it to be something more sinister. The hive is not only employing its vampire contacts—it’s approaching any common soldier. Even the ill-dressed. It’s horrible.” The vampire gave a delicate little shudder. “I cannot ...discern what it is they are buying up so greedily. You want to find out what Westminster is up to? Tap into those werewolf military connections of yours, darling, and set up an offer. Biffy can take you to the preferred venue.” And so it was, on the information provided by a rove vampire, that Professor Lyall now sat in a very seedy pub, the Pickled Crumpet, accompanied by a spectacularly well-dressed drone and Major Channing. A few wobbly tables away sat one of Major Channing’s most trusted soldiers, clutching several suspicious packages and looking nervous.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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