A/N: And so, after a year of working off and on, I return with Chapter 3. As I mentioned in the previous chapter, this is part of a series dealing specifically with Evangeline during the reign of Queen Elizabeth Tudor. Once again, while I strive to be historical accurate I will take some liberties with the facts.

The chapter is set five months later than Part I, in October of 1586. Spain's Catholic monarch Philip has sent Europe's largest army to crush the Dutch Revolt, and neighboring countries have been drawn into the conflict as the war drags endlessly on.

Ken Akamatsu owns Negima and its characters.

The following conventions are used: "words", 'thoughts', and "spells ".

Her Majesty's Vampire - Part II

(-)

A glorious blue sky stretched above Evangeline's castle as a small group gathered in a secluded balcony overlooking a garden of tropical flowers and ferns. "Okay Yue," Negi told the young girl with her hair twisted into twin braids. "I want you to cast the spell just like we practiced."

"You two watch and see what I do," he said to the other two observers.

Ku Fei had an excited expression on her face as she looked on while Asuna yawned into the back of her hand. It wasn't that she was uninterested in defending herself from spells, but they had been training in the resort for the equivalent several days now, and it was Valentine's Day for goodness sakes. They should be able to take a short break from the little vampire's regimen.

Yue held her wand forth and chanted. "Vor so kratica socratica, verto meus hostilis ut inermis bestia."

"Ras tel mascir," the younger mage countered as green smoke billowed from the wand and engulfed him. Obscured completely from sight by the cloud, Negi unexpectedly stopped his incantation.

"Hey bozu!" Asuna anxiously called. "Say something won't you!"

All three girls rushed the cloud but waited just beyond its vapors as it slowly dispersed. A small frog squatted behind a pair of pince-nez spectacles bringing a gasp from each of the teens.

With eyes agog, Asuna cautiously called the boy's name but only received a "ribbet" in reply. Still in a state of shock, the girls watched the frog leap towards the balcony railing, towards the garden.

"Stop him," Asuna shouted. Ku Fei moved quickly, but not quickly enough as her quarry jumped between two stone pillars. The Chinese girl vaulted over the railing and reappeared a few minutes later with the fugitive safely in hand.

"What do we do now?" the martial artist asked.

(-)

"Eva! Eva!"

The little vampire looked up from her book as the agitated trio raced into her bedroom. A veritable symphony of babbling broke out as all three girls tried to speak at once. "Quiet!" Evangeline demanded.

"What's this all about?" she asked while glaring at the barbarians who had invaded her sanctum. "Weren't you practicing with Negi?"

Words rushed avalanche-like towards her as each girl tried to explain, but she silenced them with a raised hand. "Yue!" she barked. "What happened?"

Yue shuffled a foot back and forth while trying to decide how to answer. "We were, ah, practicing counter spells with Negi and there was, um, a bit of an, uh, accident."

An expression appeared on Evangeline's face, mirroring that of a long, suffering parent trying to pry an explanation from a group of children on just how the window got broken. "What sort of accident?"

"Show her Ku," Asuna said.

The martial artist held her hands out and Evangeline saw a frog gently cradled within. Her mouth began to twitch as the first spasm convulsed her stomach. "Mmpftt." She tried to stifle her laugh, but it burst through her defenses. "Ha! Ha, ha! Ho, ho! Ha, ha, ha!"

The feared Dark Evangel, villain of ten thousand tales, was reduced to tears as she trashed about the bed in her frilly, white nightgown. "A frog! Ho, ho! Ha, ha! That's rich! Oh, I'm going to die!"

"Isn't she already …" Ku Fei started to ask but was quickly hushed by the others.

(-)

A fine drizzle fell over the French city of Rheims turning cobblestone treacherous in the sputtering light of torches. Few people were out that evening, so no one impeded the urchin walking with arm raised against the rain. In the five months since she left Bohemia, Evangeline had travelled nearly 200 leagues by horse, carriage, boat and mostly foot.

Few would recognize her as the youngster who rode out of Prague that May. Gone were the fine clothes she had received from Doctor Dee. They had been sold and replaced by cast offs rags that would attract less attention. Gone too were her long, golden tresses. She had shed many tears while lopping them off, but a boy could travel alone far easier than a girl. Now that she had arrived in the city, Evangeline was eager to deliver the doctor's package of letters and be done with it. The idea of returning to London held not a bit of attraction for her. None at all she told herself.

Morley had not been as difficult to find as Evangeline feared. The English University, were Catholics in exile trained to regain their homeland for the true faith, seemed to attract every visitor from England. And Kit Morley was a figure easily recalled by all who met him. "A right rakehell" some called him or "a corrupt fellow given over to tobacco and blasphemy." "Best stay away from him," she had been warned.

Light spilled into the street from between the planks of the tavern's ancient door. From inside the building, she heard the buzz of conversation interspersed with occasional laughter. Standing for a moment in the open doorway, Evangeline let her eyes adjust to the illumination as water dripped from the worn cap atop her head. Few of the patrons bothered to give a filthy urchin more than a glance, but the tavern keeper stared long and hard at her.

He was heavyset, bald and had a long scar that ran down the length of his face from cheek to jowl. "What do you want boy?" the man asked and then contemptuously spat upon the floor.

"I've a message for a man named Morley sir," Evangeline answered as she held up a folded scrap of parchment. "Word is he spends his evenings here."

"Then hand it here," the man said. "I'll see he gets it."

"He is to pay me for delivery," she replied, pulling the note protectively against her chest.

Still scowling, the bald man pointed to a curtain hung at the back. "You'll find him through there."

Wooden boards creaked loudly as Evangeline crossed the floor. Beyond the woolen blanket, pressed into service as a door, a single lantern flickered as the vampire beheld four men seated about a barrel with planks set atop it, playing cards. She had no clear view of them save for the fellow facing the door.

That man's brown hair was cropped close, revealing a pale forehead while his chin and upper lip sported a sparse beard and mustache. His doublet was dark brown and had been slashed to reveal an orange-gold lining while its front and arms were trimmed by two dozen gold buttons. 'A dandy fellow that,' she thought as the man's eyes fell upon her.

Lips curled upward into a sardonic smile as he took out a small box. Taking a pinch of its contents, he inhaled it. Answering another player's question he told them it was a substance called tobacco.

"Ha! A noxious weed grown by heathens," the man seated with his back to the door declared. "All God fearing men would do well to avoid it."

"I hold a contrary view," Morley replied as he intently studied the cards in his hand. "They are fools who enjoy not tobacco or boys."

The man to the speaker's left roared in response to the jest while the offended man angrily replied, "What scandalous nonsense do you spout sir? Does not scripture instruct us that sodomy is an offense 'gainst God and man?"

"There is much that scripture proscribes," the first speaker answered. "But I say ignorance is the only sin."

"Have a care what words you utter," the other angrily warned. "You should fall to your knees and beg the Almighty's forgiveness."

"Quiet now," the fourth man said as he placed a restraining hand on the enraged player's arm. Glancing nervously at the entrance, he noted Evangeline's presence. "It seems we have a visitor."

The angry man turned to regard her. His bearded face sported high cheekbones and a nose pitched as sharply as a roof's peak. Dark circles gathered like storm clouds beneath eyes that shone with righteous wrath. "Why are you here?" he demanded.

Feigning fright, her tremulous voice answered, "I've a message for a man named Morley."

"I am Morley," the dandy replied, smiling as if to a jest known only to himself.

Passing the note to him, she watched as the man carefully unfolded it and gazed at the symbol Doctor Dee had written. Morley calmly pocketed the paper and told her to have a seat.

They were playing a game as teams. Each man revealed a card and the team with the highest card played, won that round. The cards depicted people of diverse professions, such as Baker or Doctor, and some bore numbers while others didn't. Evangeline found it interesting that the Knave was considered superior to all other cards. Banter flowed freely as the game progressed.

As Morley's team won again, the man who had earlier railed against him stood and shouted, "You sir are a cheat as well as a blasphemer!"

"I have no need to cheat a player who possesses such poor skill at cards," Morley said.

Enraged, the man fumbled for his sword but stopped as the tip of Morley's blade pressed against his neck.

"Stay your hand good sir," the man's partner begged. "My friend meant you no harm. He is very passionate in his views."

"As I am in mine," the dandy remarked as he slowly removed the blade from his opponent's quivering flesh. "Perhaps it would be best that two such passionate fellows went their separate ways?"

Stepping back from the table, the angry man strode to the curtained door, followed by his companion. Halting at the curtain, he glanced back. "I'll not forget this sir."

"Nor shall I," Morley responded.

After the pair left, the last player sadly shook his head "By God Kit," the man exclaimed. "That wagging tongue of yours will land you in prison one day."

Leaning against the table, the swordsman gave the other a cocky grin. "I can't help it Samuel," Morley countered. "Having more wit than most, I have an obligation to instruct others on their lack."

"Tis a heavy burden you carry," the man named Samuel chuckled. "But it shan't keep your head from decorating a city gate one day."

After the other man left, Morley regarded the messenger with an air of casualness. "Who gave you this?"

Though they had been speaking French throughout, Evangeline answered in English. "Another Englishman," she replied. "He was a distinguished scholar and called himself John Dee."

"Describe him to me."

"He is a thin man, neither tall nor short," she answered. "His face is pallid and deeply lined by age, but his eyes shine with great intelligence. His beard is white as new fallen snow and tapers to a dagger like point. In speech he is courteous yet there are times when he sounds like a priest delivering a sermon so fervent is he. He favors black in his dress though wears a white, ruffled collar …"

"Enough," Morley said as he motioned for silence. "You have travelled far?"

"All the way from the Kingdom of Bohemia sir," Evangeline answered.

"And did this gentleman give you ought else?"

"He did sir," she answered.

"Then I shall relieve you of your charge," Morley said while reaching out a hand.

Evangeline hesitated. "You've asked for proof of who sent me," she told him, "but what proof do I have you are who you say?"

"What greater proof can I give that I am that notorious scoundrel Christopher Morley?" he chuckled in response.

"I've heard you are an educated man."

Morley rolled his eyes and then words in Latin poured from the man's mouth. "Esse quid hoc dicam, quod tam mihi dura videntur strata, neque in lecto pallia nostra sedent, et vacuus somno noctem, quam longa, peregi, lassaque versati corporis ossa dolent?"

While Evangeline recognized the passage from Ovid, she pretended ignorance. "Can you not say this in plain speech sir?"

"But, I think, if desire were attacking me I'd feel it," he continued in English. "Surely he's crept in and skillfully hurt me with secret art. That's it: a slender arrow sticks fast in my heart, and cruel Love lives there, in my conquered breast."

"Shall I give in: to go down fighting might bank the fires? " Verses rolled off the man's tongue and threatened to sweep the listener away like a swift moving river. "I give in! The burden that's carried with grace is lighter. I've seen the torch that's swung about grow brighter and the still one, on the contrary, quenched."

'He is full of wickedness,' the vampire thought to herself while aloud she admitted to his identity and made to hand over Dee's packet.

"What's your name boy?" the man asked.

"Alexander … Alexander McDowell."

"McDowell?" he repeated. "Are you a Scot?"

"I'm from Galloway," she proudly proclaimed.

"How did you come to be so far from home?"

"That would be a tale long in telling," Evangeline answered.

"Have you a room?" Morley asked and watched as she shook her head. "My lodgings are nearby. Come along and perhaps you can tell me your tale."

(-)

Walking down the moonlit road, Evangeline wrinkled her nose at the fetid smell that clung to her and her companion. Upon reaching the inn where the man was staying, they discovered the town guard outside, demanding that the Englishman be turned over. "I think it best to depart this fair city," Morley had observed.

"What? Can you conjure us through the city walls?" Evangeline had asked.

"Nay, but I've prepared for this eventuality," the dandy answered. "There is a way out." Little did she suspect that the way was through the sewers.

Glancing occasionally at the lanky form beside her, she wondered exactly who this man was and why he was there. A ruler like Elizabeth was wise enough to send spies among her enemies. That Morley was an agent for Her Majesty was likely, but why would he make such scandalous comments sure to attract attention from the authorities? Another point that bothered her was the power that emanated from him during his recitation. A magus like Dee radiated power all of the time and she hadn't believed Morley had any sort of magic until then. Whatever mysteries the man carried, Evangeline was certain she'd not unravel them that night.

The rain stopped a few leagues north of Rheims. Soaked to the skin, her companion shivered from the cold. "Should we not find shelter?" she suggested.

"We need to press on to Conde," he answered. "I can get a horse there."

Managing to walk for another league, the pair finally halted as Morley swayed on his feet. Like her neighbors, years of incessant warfare had littered the French countryside with ruins of once thriving farms and villages. A former smokehouse, its walls and roof intact, provided shelter while mounds of bracken and rushes formed their bed. Stripping down to his under clothing, the Englishman laid his head down and went instantly to sleep. As soft snores issued from the huddled form next to her, Evangeline's eyes open and she turned to regard him.

Even through the sewer's reek, she could smell the blood coursing through his veins; could see the pulse in the man's neck with every heartbeat. A pang of hunger stabbed sharply as a small, pink tongue ran over pallid lips in anticipation. Having another contact in London meant she could retrieve Dee's letters and deliver them, making the gentleman expendable. Yet like the good doctor, a presence hung about him; not magic as far as she could determine, but power of a sort. Lightly placing fingertips to the man's brow, Evangeline recited a spell that sped him into deeper slumber.

Animal blood mollified her immediate complaints, though sipping the sweet nectar from squirrels did nothing to satisfy other cravings. A vampire's true curse was not that they nourished themselves by drinking blood; rather it was the predator's lust that made a human's blood desirable above all others. The first grey streaks of the coming morning appeared as she returned to their shelter. One more spell to deter vermin from entering their lair was cast and then Evangeline lay down to sleep the day away.

Dreams of her family and friends rose up from the ashes of memory to prance and strut, reminding the undead girl of the life immortality had robbed her of. A childlike a whimper escaped her lips. In response, an image of her mother wrapped its arms about her as a younger Evangeline snuggled into the long dead woman's embrace.

Darkness had descended upon the abandoned farmstead when her eyes opened, Evangeline discovered her cheek pressed firmly against the begrimed tunic covering Morley's chest. One of the man's arms lay beneath while the other draped across her back. The cap had been knocked off during the day and bits of vegetation twined amongst her remaining locks. Swiftly the vampire disengaged from his arms and gazed down in annoyance at the Englishman.

The second half of the incantation was muttered and Morley's eyes fluttered open. "Morning Alexander," the man greeted as arms stretched high into the air.

"Morning?" Evangeline replied as the English spy began scratching through his soiled tunic. "It is evening already sir."

Sticking close to the main road, the pair continued north and reached Conde shortly after midnight, but had to lay up in a barn until closer to daybreak.

"Infernal cur," her companion complained about some farmers yapping mongrel.

"So how exactly did you come to Bohemia from Galloway?" she was asked.

"My parents died many years ago," Evangeline bitterly replied. "I was sent to another household, but the master sold me to a merchant. That man beat me so I ran away."

"And this was in Prague?"

"Yes sir."

"So what happened next?"

"I was hungry," Evangeline answered, thinking desperately of a plausible story. Thoughts of her initial meeting with Edmond Kelley sprang to mind. "I tried to steal some food but was caught by two men who chased me. By a stroke of luck, Dee's servant rescued me and brought me to the doctor. Doctor Dee told me that angels had prophesized my arrival and then charged me with the task of delivering his messages."

"A most intriguing tale," Morley declared with chuckle, "but you need to work on your presentation boy."

Evangeline stared at him with a look of pure bafflement.

"Don't just say you were sold to a merchant," he continued. "Say it was an Italian merchant, or better yet a Venetian, who spirited you away from your home in Scotland to strange cities you had only heard tales of before. Say that he was not a kind master, especially when he'd been in his cups, for then he would beat you over the slightest offense. After concluding his business in Prague, your master got so drunk and so violent, that you feared for your life and ran away."

"But … but it's the truth," she indignantly sputtered.

"That may be," Morley remarked, "but such a bare bones tale as that won't woo the audience's sympathy."

Before she could respond, the vampire's sharp ears detected steps approaching their hiding place. "Hsst," she cried softly.

The handle to the door rattled and Evangeline began reciting one of the few spells she knew. Light spilled from a lantern held by a worn and frail old man wearing a heavily patched tunic. Wearily the lantern's beam travelled across the outbuilding, lingering a moment on the tiny cart they had ducked behind before moving on. At last the farmer departed.

"What was that you were reciting?" Morley asked. "Was it a prayer?"

"Yes sir, a very old prayer," she replied truthfully as the spell began as a petition to god Hermes to be rendered invisible to the eye. "Do you pray sir?"

"Not since I was your age boy," Morley muttered back.

Another whispered prayer later and the Englishman yawned. "Why don' t you get some sleep?" she suggested as eyes slowly closed. A few hours later, she shook him awake.

They slipped from the barn and ran low across the road towards the town's crumbling, outer wall. "I thought for sure that dog was going to start barking," he remarked as they made it to the other side.

"He probably got tired," Evangeline said and then licked her lips dry.

(-)

Morley led them to the promised safe house. Their host, a faint-hearted fellow who jumped at the slightest noise, hid them in the cellar and promised to have a horse ready. Exhausted, Evangeline curled into the darkest corner and fell into a fitful sleep.

True to his word, a horse, if one could grace the broken down nag with that name, was saddled and waiting for them. As uncomfortable as the journey was, Evangeline couldn't deny how much faster they travelled. It only took the pair a few days to reach the port of Calais.

Once the town was English, the brightest jewel in the English Crown some had called it; however, those days were long past as the French had wrested back control more than a generation ago. Yet ships continued to sail the narrow channel between the traditional enemies. Testament that a purse full of gold attracted greater loyalty than King or Queen.

Staring out at the darkening city from the window of their rented room, Evangeline weighed whether she wanted to return. London itself held little appeal; it had been a large city, but with more than half of it filled with religious houses, easily a third of the population was a monk, nun or priest. While the dreaded Black Friars, who had made her earlier time there a misery, were gone she had no doubt other like them had taken their place.

Kit Morley was nattering on about the city's joys and diversions, many of which the vampire found less appealing than the monasteries, when he unexpectedly asked "Have you ever seen a play Alexander?"

"A what?"

"A play," he repeated. "People acting out a story before an audience."

Evangeline recalled how small groups of players had performed in the households of her wealthier patrons, re-enacting event from history or legends. "Perhaps," she replied. "What of it?"

"If you had seen one, you would have remembered," Morley said with an enthusiasm he rarely exhibited. "Of course the plays today are nothing like the ancients wrote, but I'm going to change all that."

"How do you propose to do that sir?"

"Why by writing better plays than the tawdry little tales being churned out," he answered. "I'm writing one now about a poor shepherd who rises to power and conquers the world."

Personally the vampire wondered why anyone would bother with such a useless task as writing 'plays', but kept silent.

"Mark my words Alexander," the man proclaimed, "when people mention the great playwrights, my name will be among them. They'll never be able to say Sophocles, Aeschylus or Euripides without mentioning Christopher Morley."

She smiled to herself at the thought that the vain peacock strutting before her would ever be remembered a day past his death let alone through the centuries. How many times had such men hawked their talents like merchants to the passing crowd? So sure their art would earn them immortality, they slipped instead into well deserved oblivion. Like them, Kit Morley would be far better served by retiring to a small village and tending sheep like his world conqueror.

"It's time we make our way to the docks," the dandy said. A thoughtful expression creased his features and then Morley removed an oilskin pouch and held it out to her. "If we get separated, I want you to make sure this gets to London."

"But how will I get there?"

"Our ship is the Rahab," he answered. "If you miss that, then make your way to Flushing in the Netherlands. The English control that town and governor there will see you safely to the Queen."

Competing odors of salt and decaying fish filled the air as they approached the docks.

"Look lively Alexander," the young dandy said. "The Rahab should be berthed nearby."

A gust of wind caused the torch to sputter in her hands as Evangeline glanced up at the huge ships moored to the docks. Years ago she had travelled across the channel, but these massive galleons made that modest ship seem no more than a child's toy.

From behind, she heard the creak of a weather-beaten door as it opened. A glance over her shoulder revealed a half-dozen armored men pouring into the street. "Run," she said and grabbed the surprised Englishman by the arm. More men appeared ahead and Evangeline nearly pulled Morley from his feet and she ran into a side street. More soldiers materialized in front of them and the vampire thrust the torch into one man's face before smashing her fist into another's throat. A spear thrust at her, but the vampire sidestepped and grabbed hold of the end. Striking down with her elbow broke it in two. Turning the point about, she buried it in her attacker's chest.

Blood her senses rejoiced. Glorious blood splattered the narrow alley. For the moment she forgot about quests and packages and plays about shepherd boys. She was the wolf and sheep bleated as they scattered before her. Like a siren song, the scent of blood beckoned and she chased after them laughing.

(-)

Still shocked by what his eyes told him he witnessed in the alley, Christopher Morley stumbled, ashen skinned and trembling, into to the street. No stranger to the ravages of war, he'd never witnessed such slaughter before. Too stunned to escape, he was quickly surrounded by more armed men.

"Well if it isn't the esteemed Christopher Morley," a voice he had not expected to hear again called. Looking up, he found himself face to face with the card player from Rheims.

"What no witticisms this evening?" the man asked. "I am most disappointed."

"Has your card game improved any?" he weakly replied.

"Cards," his former opponent laughed and then switched to English. "The game I play is far more important than cards. And I'm afraid that you just lost sirrah."

"So what happens now," Morley asked. "Is it back to Rheims or to Paris?"

"Oh no, we are bound for Madrid," the other man answered. "His Majesty, King Phillip, is most interested in what you have to say."

(-)

The final soldier lay dying at her feet. She had shattered his ribs, and splinters of bone protruded out of the man's chest as blood bubbled out of the wound. Her eyes glowing with unholy glee, a pink tongue slithered out of a little girl's mouth and slurped the sweet, frothy liquid. Lips moved up to the neck and halted at the point where she felt a feeble throb. Fangs jabbed into skin and Evangeline drank her fill.

(-)

"Here's another!" Ku Fei shouted as the girl scooped up a wriggling frog and deposited it into the sack Asuna held. The canvas bag bulged with several dozens of the creatures, all voicing their discontent with a chorus of "ribbet." Off to the side, an anxious Yue stood and watched helplessly as the other two ministra scampered about the garden.

"Why did you let, um, Negi escape?" she asked the smirking vampire at her side.

"So I could watch those two run around like chickens with their heads cut off," Evangeline answered. "And that frog wasn't Boya was it?"

Yue's expression became even more unsettled as she gazed at her companion is shock. "How … did?"

"I know a thing or two about magical constructs," the mage known as the Doll Master replied. "I can tell a golem from a real person. So what's going on?"

"Haruna thought up this whole thing as a way for Nodoka to spend Valentine's Day alone with Negi," Yue confessed as her stomach tied itself into a Gordian knot. As Ku dropped another squirming amphibian into the sack, several hopped out to freedom, eliciting more shouts from her classmates.

"This is bad," Yue groaned. "Real bad."

"Ha!" Evangeline laughed wickedly. "Wait until I tell Asuna that the only way to break the spell is to kiss the real Negi."

Yue heart leapt into her throat as the apprentice mage felt she was engineering a train about to run off a half finished bridge into a yawning chasm. A dread-filled whisper escaped from between her numb lips, "They're going to kill me."

"Death's not so bad," Evangeline replied with an evil chuckle. "You get used to it after the first hundred years or so."

(-)

Christopher 'Kit' Morley, aka Christopher Marlowe, was a poet and playwright. He is considered the foremost Elizabethan dramatist, next to Shakespeare. Statements attributed to him by enemies, his associations with the Elizabethan spy network and his violent death have all painted a rather unflattering picture of the man. I'd like to think he was a very complex figure that neither those who praised nor condemned him truly understood. For this story, I have tried to steer between these two extremes.

Verto meus hostilis ut inermis bestia translates (more or less) into turn my enemy into a harmless animal.

Passage quoted is from Ovid's 'Amores' Book I Elegy II: Love's Victims. As a Cambridge student, Christopher Marlowe was said to have translated the 'Amores' into English verse. The translation used here is from the Poetry In Translation website.

Sir is a normal form of address for a gentleman not of the nobility. Using Sirrah is considered disrespectful.