Rory, the Sleeper Page 8

  "So do I, Charlotte. I only hope that the poor souls sacrificed in this war, like my wife, will find peace and evil does not call them forth again." Sadness descended over him.

  I stared at my plate. For months the village played along with his belief that Mrs Mason was simply visiting relatives and she would soon return. That veil had lifted from his mind with the recent encounter, but it left him with a cold and stark reality.

  "I am so sorry. We have all lost so much." Not a family was untouched by tragedy. It was the one thing that united us all.

  A shaft of light ran along the blade of the knife in the reverend's hand and his fingers tightened on the handle. "We have all lost loved ones, and now we must avenge them."

  10

  Ella

  Hot jazz and land ships

  * * *

  Seth took me to what he called a nightclub. It seemed so frivolous to spend a night dancing at such a time. We now knew that Crowley not only started the pandemic but planned to rouse Millicent. We should hurry back to Somerset and find out all we could about the witch. Instead of contemplating digging up Seth's ancestor to confirm her death, I was wearing a gorgeous gown and drinking champagne.

  Our destination was a playground for the wealthy and popular, housed below street level in a vibrant part of London. People jostled on the pavement as the motorcar stopped. As I stepped from the car, a flash went off in my face and I turned away, blinded for a moment.

  "Blasted reporters," Seth said as he took my elbow and guided me across the pavement. "We'll be in tomorrow's paper unless something more exciting happens tonight."

  My heart tightened at the thought of our picture in the newspaper. We would be publicly linked. My vision returned to normal and we took the steps leading down. Two large men in suits guarded a metal studded door.

  "Your grace," one said and pulled the door open to admit us.

  I glanced at Seth. How often did he visit that the doormen recognised him?

  I wasn't sure what to make of my first few moments in the club. Heat, noise, and the press of bodies assailed all my senses at once. My fingers itched for the sword to protect myself. Then curiosity overcame me and I peered around.

  Cigarette smoke created a low-hanging haze. The electric lighting was subdued, hanging from wrought iron chandeliers. The walls were dark, panelled wood with a polished floor underfoot. A bar with a gleaming top and a brass rail ran the length of the room. A mirror wrapped around the wall behind, giving the appearance that twice as many people were in the club. Waitresses dodged between people carrying laden silver trays.

  Bright young things pressed into the club to hear the latest music from America—jazz. It was a vibrant place, full of laughter and colour at direct odds to the sombre, grey streets above. Here people grabbed hold of life and shook every ounce of enjoyment from it.

  "There are no obvious escape routes if the Turned attack, and people would be trampled in the resulting stampede," I said to Seth, a frown on my face.

  He laughed and pulled me toward a booth nestled against a wall. "Everyone in here is vetted, and there are armed men in the crowd. If any place can be called safe, this is it. Relax for an hour or two, Ella. People come here to forget the war and to embrace the moment."

  It wasn't my fault I needed a clear escape path and a weapon to feel safe. I desperately wanted to forget everything that raged outside the club, but what if vermin rose up from the sewers and grabbed our feet while we danced? Or worse, what if Millicent was down there giving out orders?

  Seth slid into the booth next to me and a waitress brought over a champagne cooler full of ice.

  "Water, please," I said to her. As tempting as the bubbly alcohol was, I wanted to keep a clear head.

  "We will tackle Millicent when we return to Serenity House, Ella. Sometimes being serious and in charge all the time becomes too much, and you need to blow off a little steam." He poured water into my champagne flute and toasted me.

  This wasn't a distraction just for me, but for him from the constant bombardment of his position. Even domestic staff had half a Sunday off once a week; surely the duke could snatch a few hours occasionally?

  That night showed me a different Seth, at ease among the young aristocrats. He laughed and spun me in his arms as we danced. For nearly two hours I forgot how tired I was and enjoyed the moment.

  Eventually Seth pulled me close and whispered in my ear. "Shall we leave now and return to the hotel so we can be alone?"

  A mortar exploded in my stomach. Alone. Would we be alone in our connected suites, or would we be spending time alone in just one oversized bed? I longed to pull the curtains around us, shut out the world, and steal the last private hours with him.

  "Could we walk back to the hotel?" My blood fizzed in my veins, alive with the little champagne I had drunk. I needed to walk to cool my temperature before Seth heated me up again back at the Ritz.

  "Of course." He guided me back through the raucous crowd and said his goodnights to the doormen.

  For such a bustling metropolis, there were few people on the streets. Soldiers patrolled on horseback and the regular ring of horseshoes punctuated the night.

  "Did you enjoy yourself?" Seth asked as we walked arm in arm.

  "Yes. But I do miss home." My ears rang from the loud music and my toes still wanted to tap. Part of it seemed artificial. People too keen to forget and embrace alcohol and excess to wipe away the horror we saw all around us.

  "Better escape routes?" he teased.

  "London is not exempt from attack. If people grow complacent, they become vulnerable." Carts not seen since the times of the Black Death had returned to the city's streets with men yelling bring out your dead. The War Office had investigated tunnels and hidden networks below the streets. What if a vermin army lurked, waiting for Millicent to wake, give the order, and flow over the surface?

  A crash and clatter drew my attention. It sounded as though a cat slid off a roof and rattled loose tiles. My gaze searched the gloom in the alleyway we passed. A shape stumbled along the wall, as though he used his shoulder to keep himself upright.

  "Probably drunk," Seth muttered.

  Another shadow followed behind on the same uncertain feet. And then another behind that one, as though a Piped Piper called these vermin forth. They followed a tune only they could hear.

  "Not drunk," I whispered, "Marionettes."

  They moved in a particular way, the invisible strings attached to their limbs pulled by an unseen hand. I tried to count how many of them detached from the shadows. Ten? Fifteen? I gulped and they kept coming as though they rose up from the very cobbles.

  Seth glanced up and down the street, looking for the closest patrol. "There's one, but they are too far away to hear me if I shout. Could you muster up a scream?"

  Some women scream at the drop of a hat or at the sight of the tiniest little mouse running across the floor. Not me. I'm not a screamer. It seems a waste of effort for no result. But with vermin about to flow into the road, I could give it a go.

  I took a deep breath and screamed. I channelled years of frustration into that noise, letting out the cry I wanted to make every time Elizabeth took the switch to my back or Louise tormented me. To my ears, it was deafening and a pretty good first attempt.

  The soldiers paused under a street light, four heads swung in our direction and Seth waved his arms and hollered. Then the armed men hauled their horse's heads around and put spurs to flanks. They cantered down the street toward us.

  "Turned!" Seth yelled as soon as they were close enough to hear. He pointed across the road at the alley. "At least ten. What weapons do you have?"

  If we survived, I’d never be parted from my sword again. Served me right for leaving it on the bed in the hotel suite, thinking London was safe.

  One man drew a pistol and shot it into the air. The projectile raced toward the moon and then exploded, letting loose a bright red glow of smoke above us. A flare to signal trouble.

  The
soldier and his comrades dismounted and drew the rifles on their backs. Their gazes flicked to the moving shadows that churned at the entrance to the alley.

  "Who are you?" a soldier asked.

  "Captain deMage. Throw us a couple of swords." Seth pulled rank and the men jumped to action. Not that the soldiers had time to argue as the vermin broached the neck of the alley and spread out. Two men drew swords from the scabbards hanging from the saddles and handed them over.

  I tested the weight. Not as heavy as Seth's claymore, but heavier than my delicate katana. Cavalry swords were designed to be functional, not pretty, and it would do the job. Just so long as the vermin didn't overwhelm us. We were now five against an unknown number.

  Fortunately the soldiers were well trained. They used their rifles to pick off the vermin at either end of the group and spin them to one side. Disoriented by the shots, they made easier targets for Seth and me, and we were further away from the rest of the mob as we lobbed off heads.

  One by one they fell, another always rising to replace it. At least in the catacombs they had been contained and fixated on killing me. If this lot got loose we would never find them in the warren of dark streets and staggering late night pedestrians heading home. How many innocents would succumb before morning?

  "Fall back!" Seth yelled as more poured from the narrow space between the rows of buildings.

  There were so many vermin the buildings couldn't contain them and they burst out into the street. We jumped back to form a tight knot so we weren't picked off.

  A woman screamed, an ear piercing wail that must have left her quite breathless. A fantastic warning signal as the shambling creatures tried to outflank us.

  "Too many," I whispered. Already they made for the shadows and my head spun as I tried to track them all.

  Just as despair sank into my limbs, a metallic screech came from the end of the road. A monster puffing noxious smoke rumbled along the cobbles. Roughly triangular in shape, it angled up sharply at the front. The light was a dull glint against metal sides. It rattled along on tracks that spun on either side, making it look like a busy caterpillar. A large, mechanical arm projected from the front, swinging back and forth.

  "What is that?" I asked.

  Seth didn't even glance in the monster's direction. "One of Winston Churchill's landships. I suggest we get out of its way."

  He glanced at the men between us. "Back to the pavement."

  I didn't like leaving the vermin out in the open and we needed to hunt them down. I couldn't understand what the strange metal box was going to do about the situation? It rumbled along the road at an agonisingly slow pace. My fingers clenched around the sword hilt, itching to separate a few more heads from bodies in the seconds the landship would take to reach us.

  A click and whoosh drew near as the large metal beetle crawled down the cobbles and kept going on past us. The vermin waved their arms and growled but it didn't care. Flame shot from the enormous extended arm and coated the vermin. Even afire they kept advancing on the tank. One vermin disappeared beneath the landship's segmented tracks, which flung pieces of flesh as the trapped creature moved around and back down again to be repeatedly squashed into nothingness.

  "Disgusting. It's making a mess." Seth handed me a handkerchief and I tied it around my face. The tank torched the Turned and then ploughed them down, but it had none of the elegance of a sword blow. I couldn't watch. Bones crunched under the weight of the machine and growls turned to gurgles and then silence. Nor did I want to smell anything as the sharp, acrid odour of burning flesh filled the air.

  The tank blocked the alleyway and fired back into the mass of vermin. With no exit, they could only succumb to the fire coating their limbs. That left us to pick off the stragglers. More soldiers and men ran to our position, and soon Seth had control of a small force, fighting by the light of the flaming vermin.

  The vermin wails and moans diminished as we fought and separated heads from torsos. Their numbers dwindled until only the living remained upright. Metal clanged as the top swung open on the landship.

  A man appeared, goggles around his eyes. He pulled them up to the top of his head as he surveyed the carnage around him. "Did we get them all?"

  "Yes," Seth replied, glancing around at the street, which now looked like a newsreel from the Front with scattered bits of bodies and smoke rising from impromptu piles. The soldiers used a still-burning vermin as a base to throw more pieces on top.

  "Lucky we were out on manoeuvres tonight. We weren't far away when we spotted the flare. Churchill will want to hear about this." He patted the tank as though it were a loyal and steadfast horse.

  "What model is this?" Seth asked. "It's smaller than the ones I saw on the front, and the flamethrower is new."

  "Churchill has been working on these specifically for city fighting. He had them designed for London, smaller to fit down narrow streets, and we changed out the cannon," the soldier said.

  Seth slipped easily into his command role and gave orders for the area to be secured. Lanterns were handed up from inside the landship and used to ensure not a single piece of vermin escaped clean up. It was well past midnight by the time Seth walked back to me.

  "Ready to return to the Ritz now?" Seth asked.

  "Yes, I'd love a bath." Smoke clung to my skin and the dress was likely ruined by splatter.

  "Excellent idea." His gaze boiled my blood, and I hoped the explosions weren't over for the night.

  I awoke draped over Seth with his arms around me.

  "Morning," he muttered and kissed me. "I wanted to make sure you were awake before I left to get dressed."

  "I'm awake, I'd just rather not be." I pulled a pillow over my head as Seth rose. Yesterday had been rather eventful and my limbs were fatigued. I might have been too hasty in rejecting the boring life of a duchess. Judging floral arrangements sounded like all I could face.

  The pillow was peeled back and another languid kiss placed on my lips. "You can sleep on the trip home. I'll see you downstairs."

  I was still curled up in the warm spot Seth vacated when Alice tore the blankets from my naked body.

  "How rude!" I sat up as cold air washed over me.

  My supposed friend rolled her eyes. "I'm not a maid, remember. Get up, wash and dress yourself."

  I was definitely reconsidering being a duchess. I grumbled the whole time I dressed, ate a light breakfast, and tried to smooth down my unruly strands of hair. Alice laughed the whole time.

  "Did you do anything last night?" I asked. "Or were you lucky enough to sleep for several hours?"

  Her laughter dropped away. "Oh, I went out for a quiet walk, to explore the city."

  Outside, Seth and the shiny motorcar waited for us. Frank took the suitcase from Alice's hand; his fingers caressed her palm as he drew the handle from her grasp. A heated look shot between the two of them before she turned toward me.

  I waited until Frank walked to the trunk with the case, and then I pulled my friend close and whispered in her ear, "I assume you didn't go for your walk alone last night. What happened between you two?"

  Alice winked. "Frank showed me a new attitude last night when I rescued him from the grasp of the wrong woman, and he now appreciates a more independent girl."

  "You will tell me what happened," I whispered and gave her my best I'm serious stare.

  She winked. "Oh, that might be a tale for another day."

  I opened my mouth to demand the full story, but the men returned to our sides and stalled my interrogation. There was no way I’d let her off with such scant detail. I might have a dead witch to battle and defeat, but I could find time to elicit the juicy details from Alice. We had a long drive back to Somerset. First rest stop, I was dragging her behind a tree and not letting her pee until she told me everything.

  11

  Ella

  Embarking on a witch hunt

  * * *

  We arrived back at the farm early afternoon. I barely had time to kiss Father
's cheek before I climbed the stairs and headed straight for bed. I drew my curtains, peeled off my clothes, and crept between fresh sheets. Sleep claimed me eagerly and didn't relinquish its hold for fifteen hours.

  The next morning I awoke refreshed, and Alice and I took the cart to Serenity House. Seth waited in his study, dressed for riding. He stood next to the large table, studying the battlefield. While there was much to admire about a commanding man in jodhpurs and tall boots, still my heart sank.

  He turned on hearing my light tread and smiled. "We can't put it off, Ella. We both know what we need to do." He held out a hand to me.

  No we couldn't put it off, but I could grumble about it. Which I did all the way out to the courtyard. Two horses with gleaming coats waited for us. Attached behind their saddles were hurricane lamps, coils of rope, and a crowbar. It looked more like we were going on a mountaineering expedition, not calling on one of Seth's distant relatives.

  I stopped grumbling as I settled in the saddle, but only because I didn't want my equine partner to sense my mood. We set off at a trot and Seth led the way down a worn path and through the fields. We headed for a quiet corner of the estate. A picturesque church with a steeple housing a worn brass bell stood at the corner between field, road, and forest.

  Serenity House, like many stately homes, had its own chapel and graveyard. Once a second son would have earned his living by preaching from the pulpit in the stone church every Sunday. Now it looked abandoned. We dismounted and tied the reins over the hitching rail out front of the church.

  I looked up at the weathered structure, the oak front door shut fast against the world. The mullioned windows of old, handmade glass contained a multitude of bubbles and waves and made it impossible to peer inside. The church looked like a forgotten toy left to languish in a dusty attic.