There were two key aspects which were working in our favour as we tried to track down the mysterious scholar known as Drabblestone. The first was that Port Cressida had its own unique version of the web. Vampires had embraced the digital revolution and created its own private online space for its supernaturals residents to use, and this included an online phone. The second advantage was that Drabblestone was an uncommon name and in the whole of Port Cressida there was only one resident who had that name - M. Drabblestone of 63 Challow Street.

The location of the street was near the waterfront in a run down part of town that was near the docks. Jacques was familiar with this area and offered to drive us there. Nico still wasn't particularly sold on the idea, but he'd resigned himself to the fact that we were going with or without his blessing. Laying on his bed he muttered to himself, "This is a stupid idea."

We ignored his griping and continued to get ready to venture into the city. Nervous excitement was bubbling up inside me as it dawned on me that I was finally getting to visit the city I'd heard so much about. Port Cressida - the great vampire city of the west! For so long I had heard about it and watched its snowy roof tops from my distant tower, but now I was going to see it up close and personal.

Jacques saw my expression of excitement and asked, "Are you getting pumped to finally go and visit your royal city, Princess?"

I smiled at him, eager to share my excitement with him, but Nico cut me dead. Glowering at me he said, "This isn't a sight seeing weekend break, Mia. I want you in and out of the city as soon as possible. Do you understand?"

My heart sank. Why did he go and have to spoil my fun? This was the one thing I was looking forward too - the silver lining around the crap heap that was my life. I rolled my eyes and muttered under my breath," Understood, Mother dearest."

Jacques stifle a giggle at my comment and whispered, "This is going to be awesome. You'll finally get to see what the city looks like."

Smiling I pulled on my coat and replied, "I know. I've been dying to explore the city since I moved into the apartment several days ago. I could see the rooftops from my bedroom window!"

"Yeah, that's right. From where you were staying, you'd be able to see Old Town - it's the fanciest part of town where most of the blue bloods live. It's super historic with lots of culture and buildings, and other shit a young educated woman like yourself would appreciate," he smiled.

Images of beautiful brick houses encircling sprawling plazas with beautiful fountains, danced across my mind. I was imagining Italian cities or some where like Paris. The kind of places I'd always dreamed of visiting one day. Pulling on my ruck sack, I asked, "Will we drive through it?"

My question was met with a snort of laughter from Jacques. "Are you kidding? Old Town is north of the city, in the posh area. Where we are going to is pretty much the anus of Port Cressida. It's a complete shit hole. The docks closed down decades of ago and the whole place went to hell. The only people who live there are the people who can't afford to live anywhere else in the city."

"Oh," I said trying not to sound disappointed, "I'm sure it has it's charms."

"Only if you find poverty and crime charming," he replied.

I thought back to the beautiful snowy roof tops I had seen through the iron bars in my bedroom window and remembered how picturesque it had been. I honestly believed that Port Cressida would turn out to be this wonderful magical city filled with supernatural creatures, I never thought it would turn out to be like every other city on this planet with its nice parts and its bad parts.

Quietly I wondered what Luc thought about the south of the city. Did he care about the poor and needy in Port Cressida, or was he an ignorant royal who holed himself up in his palace. It was times like this I wish he was near so I could ask him these questions, just to see what kind of person he really was.

"Hey," Jacques said, waving a hand in front of my face. "Are you okay? You suddenly looked really bummed and I didn't know why."

Sighing I replied, "I'm just thinking about Luc - I kind of miss that asshole."

Jacques smiled warmly at me and said, "You'll be with him soon enough. Once we check out this Drabblestone person we'll take you back to the fortress. I promise we won't keep you away from Luc for long."

The thought of seeing Luc again filled me with a strange sort of hope for the both of us. Deep down I had this feeling that if I could help solve Celia's murder then we would be able to put all this craziness behind us and move forward with our lives. We could have a fresh start and focus on building a relationship that wasn't clouded in mysteries and lies. I loved Luc, I really did, but I didn't know him. He was just this handsome man who would come sweeping in and out of my life with kisses and promises of now and forever. But there had to be more too him then good looks and amazing kissing skills...

I looked across to Casper who was crouched down next to Nico, talking to him. A pang of jealously flashed through my chest as I suddenly realised that Casper was the only person in the world that knew Luc, better than anyone else in the world. Jacques once described how the two idolised each other. Perhaps I should ask Casper a few things about Luc before we went back to the fortress. He might know some funny stories, or any story about Luc that didn't involve death or tragedy.

"Are you ready," I called to Casper.

He nodded and grabbed the old queen's journal off the table and said, "We should take this."

He walked over to me and slipped the journal into my rucksack. Nico scowled at all of us and muttered, "I still think this is a bad idea."

"I know you do, but you can still wish us luck," I replied, trying to sound cheerful.

Nico laughed humourlessly and said, "Good luck. You're going to need it."

We slipped out of the chapel into a dark alley way. The chapel we were hiding in, lay north east of the city, right on the outskirts. The place we needed to be was the south west of the city, which meant we need to cut through the city in order to reach our destination. Jacques had reassuringly explained that this would take twenty minutes in the car, but first we needed to get to his car. Keeping close together, we walked down several residential streets.

The houses that we passed were cute colonial houses which honestly didn't scream 'hey, you're walking through a magical vampire city here'. In fact the the whole suburban vibe of the city mirrored that of every other city, and that honestly made me a little disappointed. I thought vampires were all about excess and darkness, not manicured lawns, people carriers and white picket fences.

"This is seems a very conservative area to live," I remarked as we passed a front yard with a 'keep off the grass' sign.

Jacques smirked and said, "Personally I'd rather live down by the docks than here in boringville."

I giggled at his joke and quickly Casper shushed us. "Come on guys, we need to keep a low profile."

Both me and Jacques fell quiet and continued to walk down the street in silence.

At the end of the street we turned down another road and Jacques pointed over to silver saloon car that was parked on the street and said, "That will do."

Before I could ask any questions he shiftily glanced around the street and then slowly jogged across the road. There was something about his manner that wasn't quite right... He reached into his pocket to pull out what I thought was going to be a set of keys, but instead pulled out a wire coat hanger. I stopped in my tracks and turned to Casper and said, "Please tell me he locked his keys inside the car."

Casper winces and replies, "I don't know how to tell you this, but Jacques has never owned a car."

I turn back to Jacques who has now managed to open the car door and I watch mortified as he slides into the driver's seat. "What is he doing?!"

Casper grasps my shoulders and pushes me forward gently, and whispers in my ear, "He is acquiring us a mode of transportation."

As we walk closer, I see Jacques hooking out a couple wires from a hole in the dash where the stereo once was. I freeze up and say, "Oh God, he's hot wiring the car - isn't he?"

"Full marks for observation, little sister," Casper grimaces.

Jacques crosses two of the wires, and the engine bursts into life. Casper opens the rear passenger door and ushers me into the car. Jacques laughs at my horrified expression as Casper slides into the seat next to me.

"Have you never jacked a car before?" he asks me with a grin.

"No - I can't believe we've just stolen a car. Jacques, you told me that you owned a car," I said feeling awful about the poor person who we had just stolen from.

Jacques shrugged unsympathetically. "Why do I need to own a car when I can borrow one."

"Because it's not borrowing, it's stealing," I snapped.

He rolled his eyes at me and said, "It's only stealing when you don't intend to give it back."

"I doubt the owner of this car is going to interpret the situation in the same way," I grumbled fastening my seat belt.

"Relax," he replied turning on the radio, "Enjoy the music and view."

We drove through the back streets of the city, making our way slowly across town. The further we drove into the city, the more European looking the city became. The streets became dark and twisty, illuminated by dull flickering gas street lights. The buildings were a strange mixture of old and new that was disorientating to look at. I would glance one way and see a fifteenth century Jacobean manor house, then glance the other way and see 1960s minimalist concrete cube opposite it.

"There is a lot of different building styles going on here," I said.

"Its chaotic," Casper replied. "But it's only like that around here. The rest of the city is different. To the north is Old Town, which is full of regency and Victorian type town houses and plenty of open parkland. While to the south is the New Quarter. That has malls, high rise offices and apartments - everything you'd find in a modern city."

"What's the area like that we're going to?" I asked.

"It's one of the poorer parts of town. We call it the grey end," Casper said.

And as we drove towards it, I began to see why. The large houses started to disappear and suddenly there was street after street of tiny cramped houses, closed down stores, and piles of trash gathered in empty over grown lots. Anxiously Jacques reached over and pressed the lock-all-car-doors button and said, "Don't open your windows."

"Why are you worried someone might want to 'borrow' our car?" I asked him.

We travelled another five minutes down the street, making our way through the rabbit warren of streets and alley ways to Challow Street. When we arrived, the street was virtually derelict. Jacques rolled slowly down the road, carefully reading the house numbers, and nearly every house we passed had smashed windows, broken down doors, or was covered in graffiti. When we came to number 63 Challow Road, it was the only house in the entire street to have a lamp on.

Jacques parked up and turned in his seat to Casper and said, "You need stay here. We don't know what type of person this Drabblestone is. They might recognise you and decide to call the guards."

Reluctantly Casper nodded. "Fine, but you're responsible for Mia's safety!"

"I will protect her with my life," Jacques replied, unlocking the car doors and getting out.

I followed him and heard Casper call out after me, "Any trouble, little sister, just scream and I'll come running."

"Thanks," I muttered under my breath.

We rolled up to the front door and I knocked on it loudly.

The front door creaked open and woman with bright red hair scraped back into a tight bun appeared. She stared down at us through her cracked spectacles and asked, "Can I help you?"

"We're looking for the scholar called Drabblestone," I said awkwardly.

Pain flashed through the woman's eyes and her expression turned angry. "Don't you people understand? Our family gone through enough misery without you people constantly dragging up the past!"

Flabbergasted I began to apologise, "I'm sorry, that's not my intention, but-"

"Martha? Martha," a weak feminine voice called from inside the house. "Is that Saint Peter, has he come for me?"

Martha let out an exasperated sigh, "No Thelma, it's not Saint Peter. It's just a couple of people collecting for charity."

"Well, invite them in," Thelma replied.

Martha threw a frustrated look over her shoulder and hurriedly stepped out of the house. "Listen, I don't know what your game is, but my sister is clearly in no state to receive visitors. Now, please leave."

"Wait," I cried grabbing onto her arm as she tried to walk into the house. "Please, we're desperate. My name is Mia and I'm trying to gather evidence to prove a friend's innocence. I know this sounds strange but we found a source that mentioned your sister's name. It said that she knew something that might help with our case."

Martha eyed me up and down suspiciously. "And what source exactly stated that?"

I shrugged off my ruck sack and pulled out the queen's journal. Handing it to her, I pointed out the diary entry where her sister was mentioned. She took the journal from my hands and with started to read it. Her skeptical eyes scanned narrowly over the sentences and began to soften. "Wait, this is the Queen Rhoda's journal... how did you get this?"

"I found it in fortress," I explained.

"The fortress - you mean the royal garrison? What on earth were you doing there, and just who is this friend?" she demanded.

Behind me, Jacques stepped forward, gently squeezing my shoulders. "Ma'am, we don't have a lot of time. We need to speak to your sister now. A man's life depends on it."

Martha rolled her eyes and reluctantly said, "Fine. You have five minutes, but I'm warning you, she'll only speak nonsense."

Stepping aside she let us into her house. We bundled into her narrow hall way and she said, "First door on the left."

We squeezed through the cramped corridor, trying not to touch the dusty frames that lined the walls. We walked through the door and found Thelma Drabblestone sitting in a chair with a pink fleece over her knees. She was a small lady who appeared to be no more than thirty, but had grey hair and a world weary face. She beamed up at us when we walked in and smiled, "Good evening, young travellers. Tell me, have you come to kill me?"

"Um - no," I said. "I've come to ask you some questions about my friend who has been accused of a terrible."

She looked disappointed and replied, "Shame, I was hoping to die today. I keep calling on Saint Peter but he won't answer my prayers. Perhaps you could pray for him. He comes to me sometimes to talk about the garden, I think he's mad about all the cats but what can we do about that. The cats do not understand us! Oh no," she paused and her eyes drifted to an empty corner of the room. "See, she brings the cats in with her and they think it's okay to come and mess in our garden. Violet, you mustn't bring in stray cats. You must be a good girl or I will tell your papa otherwise."

Jacques leaned into my ear and whispered, "Her sister was right, she's completely fucking gaga."

I ignore him and endeavoured on. I was convinced she knew something, even if it was a small fragment that could help us unlock the mystery of Celia's murder. I crouched down next to her and asked, "Thelma, we need your help. Queen Rhoda said that you knew some information about Princess Celia's murder."

She continued to stare at the corner for a few seconds before turning her attention back on us. "Please excuse my little Violet. She's been very difficult since we moved away from her father. I think she blames me for what happened. Now Violet, listen to your mama and run along. No, put the cat down. We can't afford a cat anymore, not since your papa decided to leave us."

"I'm sorry to hear about your troubles," I said, going along with it. "But the queen said that you were a scholar."

She nodded her head. "Yes, but I retired years ago. People didn't like what I was writing and I lost my job at the college. Humph, they accused me of being dishonest in my work and all because he ran off with that other one! 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' they laughed, but I knew the woman that he had chosen, over me and our daughter, was a rotten apple. I told his mother and she called the guards! I showed her the evidence or rather lack of," she leaned close to me and whispered, "I checked the archives and found no records of her."

My hopes were sinking fast. This woman was really crazy. She was more interested in rehashing her failed romance than focusing on the question I was asking her. I shot Jacques a frustrated look and he mouthed, "She's mad!"

She looked back to the corner of the room and yelled, "Violet, please! Where are the cakes? You took one didn't you, oh, you've spoilt your dinner. I shall tell your papa! She's so naughty! But what can I say, children need their fathers, and her father is gallivanting round town with that trollop!"

"Thelma," I said, catching her hand. "I'm sorry to hear about Violet's father, but I need you to focus. Prince Casper has been accused of murdering the Princess Celia, and I need you to help me prove his innocence."

"I told his mother the truth and they threw me out the house!" she cried.

I squeezed her hand tightly and said, "I know, that was awful but what about Princess Celia. Do you remember anything about the murder?"

Her mouth formed an 'oh' and she said, "Celia, oh poor Celia. I remember her. You see, I was first and she was the second, and that poor girl Celia, she was the third. When I heard about Celia's death I knew the second one had a hand in it. The second one was tricky and old - much older than we all thought. She pretended to be young but secretly she was one of the old ones."

"What do you mean by the first, second and third?" I asked feeling like I was finally making some headway.

She laughed and wrung her hands together. "You must be young! I was young once too, and in love. I was his first, before the second one came. My mother was a tutor up at the palace and she felt sorry for him being all alone. So one day she brought me along to play with him, and after that we were inseparable. It was me and Louis, together, forever. We lived with each other for a decade - his mother hated me. Even when I had the baby, she wouldn't look at me or at 'it' - as if Violet was an 'it'. But you know what royals are like about illegitimate children."

I stared at her completely stunned. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She was Louis' first mistress and the mother of his child. I glanced over my shoulder and looked at Jacques. "Is this true?"

He looked as stunned as I was and replied, "I'd heard rumours but this happened way before I was born. I'd always thought that it was just rumours."

I turned back to her and asked, "Tell me about the second one - was she the second mistress."