The octomaton was built for many things but not, apparently, for a full-pack assault. True, it was well armored and mostly metal, but Madame Lefoux had not used any silver, so it was vulnerable, especially in such numbers. But the Frenchwoman was not remaining idle. Oh, no. Madame Lefoux had those vicious tentacles in play, spraying fire and shooting wooden stakes. Alexia knew it was only a matter of time before the inventor became desperate enough to once more bring out the tentacle that shot lapis solaris.

Then Lady Maccon caught sight of a white floating blob behind the top of the octomaton, sailing the aether breezes swiftly in her direction—a small private dirigible.

Another contraction hit her hard. Alexia doubled over and slid down the side of the carriage, slumping to the ground, leaving the door vulnerable to attack. It was the first time the wave sensation had actually hurt. Curling against the involuntary movements of her own body, she looked up and over to the east.

She couldn’t help but cry out—not from the pain but from what she saw. There was a distinct pinking to the cold silvery blue of the night sky.

She had to get them all to the safety of the castle.

She looked to Lord Ambrose, now standing over her barring the door, defending his queen. “We must bring the creature down somehow, buy us enough time to get to Woolsey. The sun is rising.”

The vampire’s eyes went black with fear. The sun would stop werewolves in their tracks, turning them back to human shape. It would slow some of the younger members, making them vulnerable, and it would do permanent damage to Biffy, who lacked the necessary control. But it would kill the vampires, every last one of them, even the queen.

Alexia thought of something. “Find me a litter, my lord.”

“What, Lady Maccon?”

“Tear off the roof of the carriage or remove part of the driving box. With one vampire at either end, you could use it to carry me to Woolsey. No one would have to touch me, there would be no loss of strength. We could make a break for it.”

“Strategic retreat. Excellent notion.” He leaped atop the driver’s box.

Lady Maccon heard a loud ripping noise.

Above, she saw a bright flash of orange light emanate from the side of the dirigible and a loud clang as a massive bullet hit and tore through the mantle of the octomaton. The creature lurched at the impact but did not fall.

Lord Akeldama had sent air support. Alexia had no idea what kind of weapon the drones had, possibly a tiny cannon, or an elephant gun, or an aethero-modified blunderbuss, but she didn’t care. It fired again.

By the time the second projectile hit its mark, Lord Ambrose was back, as was the duke. They rested a wide board on the ground next to Alexia. She managed to slide and squirm her way onto it.

They lifted her up. The queen and Dr. Caedes, carrying Quesnel, leaped out of the top of the torn and burned carriage, jack-in-the-box-like, and took off toward Woolsey, jumping the felled tree. The countess looked particularly odd performing this maneuver with her flowered receiving gown and dumpy figure. Lady Maccon’s vampire litter bearers followed. Alexia could do nothing more than grip the sides of the board, desperate not to tumble off. The leap over the fallen tree was pure torture, and she was convinced she would fall when they bumped down, but she managed to hold on.