Our army moved into place as soldiers spread out, following the curve of the vast cavern and put themselves between the wall and the vermin. Then, like fire-breathing shepherds, they herded the flock toward the centre. Vermin scuttled backwards, away from the liquid flames, and drew inward into a concentrated pack. Soldiers armed with swords worked behind the flamethrower units, beheading the undead distracted by their own flaming limbs.My mind couldn't comprehend the number of men tackling the undead. There were far more than the single truckload that followed us here, but where had they materialised from? It appeared Jack and Jake had done far more than tell the lieutenant we were in trouble; they had rallied more troops.I was annoyed Frank had allowed Alice to return, but she looked fetching dressed as a soldier and emitted a new fierce determination as she clutched the mallet. They had snuck through the enemy lines with a small squad of soldiers and reached us in time to down L
The glow worm ceiling went dark as fires burned below. One by one, the tiny worms winked out, like stars retreating as dawn approached. We no longer needed their eerie blue light to see; bonfires throughout the cavern lit the way and gave the few remaining vermin nowhere to hide. Soldiers ferreted them out, beheaded, and dragged them to the pyres."We should look for smoke in the morning, see if this cavern vents anywhere," Seth said as we watched the fumes spiral up and obscure the roof."There's so much to do," I murmured. We had vermin to find and destroy, and the catacombs were calling to be explored. How deep did these tunnels go, and what did the veiled sections of honeycomb hide? There was another task I really didn't want to perform: telling Charlotte I had killed her mother and handed over her sister to be a captive freak in London."Tomorrow, Ella. There is nothing that cannot wait until tomorrow. I think right now we all deserve a hot bath, a meal, and a decent night's
PART THREE: Rory, the SleeperThis is the way the world endsNot with a bang but a whimper.The Hollow Men by T.S. ElliotI had so much to do. We defeated Elizabeth, but the Grim War still raged and a larger enemy loomed. How had the name of Millicent deMage whispered down through the centuries to reach Elizabeth's ears? Was there a link between the pandemic and the work of Aleister Crowley, as some newspaper articles speculated? I needed to identify those struck in the original pandemic who survived. A potential clue to defeating the vermin may linger in their recovery. I had to talk to the Commodore in Dorset to find any consistency in how hives behaved. I?Seth's lips brushed over the top of my ear and stalled my frantic thought processes. "Stop worrying for a few hours. Have a bath and get some sleep. We can tackle the mountain of work tomorrow."His quiet words were a pinprick to a balloon. In an instant the turmoil blew away. I slumped against him in the dark, with my arms
The next morning my brain refused to co-operate with my body's desire to sleep late. My body rose early from bed like one of Elizabeth's mindless vermin. I needed to tell Charlotte what occurred before she heard it as local gossip. I owed her that much for the tiny glimpses of humanity she showed me over the years."What are you doing?" Alice muttered from her narrow bed. She grabbed a pillow and held it over her face, fending off a feeble ray of early sun."I have to go see Charlotte before the village is afire with the news." I nudged Alice over with my knee and then sat on a sliver of space. I peeled away a corner of pillow and met her bleary, amber gaze. "Will you be all right on your own, or do you want me to send Magda up?"Alice reached out and clasped my hand in hers. "I'll be fine with a few more hours sleep. It's not dark anymore and the infernal noise has gone away."I was surprised her internment hadn't driven her insane. A hive?s low moan worked its way into your bones
On my first day at the manse, I learned it is possible to burn water, or at least the pot containing it. Ella, Alice, and Magda undertook the cooking and housework. Mother said aristocrats didn't dirty their hands with manual labour, and so we sat in the parlour, staring at the wallpaper. If mother was particularly mad at Ella, she sent me below stairs to issue demands. While I had observed some of the workings of the kitchen, I had no practical experience.From what I saw, I thought I understood the mechanics of cooking, but actually making a meal was akin to some arcane magical rite. A boiled egg involved a pot, water, and an egg. But how much water? How long did the egg have to remain immersed? Did it matter if I had a chicken egg or a larger duck egg? And how did you extract a boiling hot egg from the pot without dropping both on the floor? The exact process was a mystery, as though such knowledge passed from woman to child in hushed whispers those upstairs weren't supposed to ove
The War Office detained Seth in London, and I busied myself reading a background paper on Aleister Crowley. I think it said something about our foe that I preferred to read about the Satanist over the long dead witch. I had tried to immerse myself in Millicent's diaries, but reading her words made a reptilian shiver slither down my spine. Perhaps my battle with Elizabeth was too recent, or maybe it was my childish imagination at work, but I suspected Millicent might reach through the pages of the book and pull me into her world.I struggled through one of her diaries, but even the heady coffee couldn't keep me focused on her words. I tossed the book back on the pile and retreated. Once Seth returned we could regroup and tackle her together.In late afternoon the study doors opened, and I looked up as the duke strode into his domain."Seth!" I tossed the papers and ran to his open arms. Bain was on a mission to the manse, so we were alone in the study for once.Tired lines pulled at
Seth kissed me again, and that time I let the fire free. Desire consumed me as it flowed through my limbs. He was wearing entirely too much and my mind screamed for more. My fingers worked at his layers of clothing. First his jacket, then his waistcoat and shirt were all discarded on the floor. Finally I could lay my hands on his bare chest, where his heart beat under my touch. He was so warm, how could anyone think him cold?Seth undid the tie at my waist and his hand crept inside the robe and along my naked flesh. A small gasp left my throat as his fingers splayed over my back and he caressed my spine. There was almost nothing between us now.Yes, my mind whispered. I want all of him, against all of me.Holding me to him, he tugged the silk from my shoulders and it dropped from my body to pool on the floor. I was naked before him."Why Miss Jeffrey, do you always sleep naked?" he murmured, as his hands stroked my heated skin."Only when I have company." A moment of embarrassment
In my previous life I had never paid chickens much attention. Or even thought about them at all. I knew they were birds and the source of eggs. My knowledge stopped there. Now I found myself caretaker to a small flock of six hens and one puffed up rooster. There was a certain comfort in watching their busy scratching, chatting to each other like a group of older women. I learned to delight in the way they tilted their heads when you spoke to them. They became my friends, running when they heard me call here chicken, chicken, eager to peck the scraps of bread scattered at my feet.Bird brains sticking together, I heard Louise say.To further my education, I learned that a broody hen could deliver quite a sharp peck if you tried to slide a hand under to see what she was keeping warm. Today one hen hogged the end nesting box. The perverse little creatures had access to a multitude of spots to lay, but if one went broody the others all decided only that particular box would do. The trait
Hazel followed my line of sight and glanced down at her mother's leg. Then she looked up to meet my horrified gaze. She shook her head, silencing me, not that there was anything to say, assuming I could say anything. My vocal cords had managed only two words in the past two years, and that rusty sound was only for Hazel's ears.I gestured to the trapped creatures and drew a line across my throat and then mimed lifting the head off. The vermin would keep struggling to free themselves and we needed to deal with them while they were still trapped."Father, Henry says you must remove the heads of these things to silence them forever." Hazel placed the fallen walking stick in her mother's hand, but kept an arm around the woman's shoulders.Mr Morris' eyes widened as he looked from the vermin stuck in a tree, one pinned to the roots through the side, and another back by the front door. That one was still trying to swim across the grass. I had a strong urge to go check on Phelps; with my l
I reached out and grasped Hazel by the shoulders. I gave a gentle shake to break the staring contest but she tried to swat me away. There were some advantages to being taller, and spending all day engaged in manual farm chores had finally put some muscle on my frame. I turned her and pointed out the window.At that point Mr Morris remembered why he had ran up the stairs. "You don't understand, love. Those things are outside the gate."Hazel and I kneeled on the window ledge and looked out. Below, in the approaching dusk, shuffled at least four of them. They stared at the thick door as though trying to remember how they worked. Push or pull?If they figured it out, they would swarm into the enclosure. We all stared at each other, realising there was one other person down there who didn't know what waited outside. Someone who couldn't ascend the steep tower stairs or run.Mrs Morris."Rachel!" Mr Morris screamed and ran for the door at the same time. His heavy boots and weight shook
March 22nd, 1919 was an important date in my mental diary. Things happened on this day far more than the signs of new life pushing up through frigid ground as the earth threw off winter and embraced spring. It was Hazel's eighteenth birthday. Not even the threat of Mr Morris tearing me limb from limb could make me miss her birthday.Sadness and regret formed a swamp in my gut. That day she would leave her tower forever, having agreed to stay only until she reached this milestone. This would most likely be our last day together. I had promised to take her to the village, where she would be safe from roving vermin, until she decided on her course of action.It was early afternoon by the time I had finished my chores and then penned a note to Magda asking for hot water to wash. All the while, Ella and Alice twittered and laughed. Honestly, what was wrong with a fellow wanting to wash the sweat and dirt off before he visited a girl on her birthday?As I rode out, the other women stood b
February 1919 and work never stopped, despite the solid ground that showed no sign of spring. An unexpected cold snap saw a light snowfall blanket the ground. It meant we either bundled up and continued on regardless, or undertook one of the endless inside jobs. Due to the weather, I decided to clean tack and dragged a chair to the end of the barn aisle. With the doors open to the frigid air, I sat with a pile of bridles in a box next to me. On my other side, a bucket of warm water and a cloth for working in the saddle soap and cleaning off sweat and dirt.The horses were quiet in their stalls and a sense of peace suffused the world. As though the drop in temperature had frozen time itself and allowed us all a chance to draw a deep breath and recover from events of the last few weeks.I should be cleaning the leather, but my mind couldn't concentrate in the quiet. I picked at my worries, pushed to the front by the voice that whispered from the back of my skull. Muttering about sins
The dawning of 1919 was a subdued affair, with little to celebrate as the new horror unfolded across the country. Father Mason's deceased wife turned up in his kitchen one night and the encounter shattered the last of his fragile confidence. Over at Serenity House, the former duke escaped the mausoleum and was dispatched by the capable butler, Warrens.Winter deepened and created a frozen tableau, which bought us some time. It's much harder to climb from your grave when the topsoil is frozen solid. We all wondered if the victims would sprout up with the warmer temperatures like daffodils.As January unfurled, Lady Jeffrey grew tired of us all peeking around the parlour door and moved the wireless to the kitchen. She deemed news of the Turned, as they were now called, far too unsavoury for her girls anyway and only suitable for our lowborn ears. That included Ella.The square wooden box crackled and chirped all day long. It seemed the horror would never end, as reports emerged that t
All through November and December, at every opportunity, I braved the frigid night time temperatures and waited in sight of the tower for Hazel to drop the ladder. I would spend an hour or two in her company. She would read and I would sketch her profile as the moonlight caressed the planes of her face.Christmas 1918 arrived and I was determined to be with the girl who held my heart. In double layers and with a wool cap shoved down hard on my head, Cossimo and I rode out to our familiar lookout point. I carried a bribe to console the gelding while we stood the lonely watch, a feedbag with oats. His eyes lit up as I carried it over to him and he dropped his nose into the canvas. That made it easier to slip the strap over his head. Quiet munching came from behind as I leaned against a barren tree and stared at the tower.A puff of smoke spiralled skyward from her tower chimney. At least she would be warm as the fire threw out a good heat in the circular room. To pass the time, I imagi
The household bombarded Ella with questions as soon as we returned. The poor girl barely made it over the threshold into the kitchen. Alice squealed and hugged her friend so tight it looked like she might never let go."I was so worried," she said. "What happened?""They let me go." Ella's gaze met mine. How much would she tell the others? Would she mention the price of her freedom?decapitating four other people?"I'd love a cup of tea and a bath. I don't think I will ever be warm again." Ella turned to me. "Thank you, Henry."I?d done nothing. How did she stand tall and brave when so many grown men showed themselves to be cowards? But then I shouldn't be surprised. I served under Sir Jeffrey, and his daughter had the same iron backbone.I left her to the care of Alice and Magda and busied myself with the farm chores. My next rescue mission wouldn't be so public. I waited until the approach of dusk before saddling up Cossimo. The horse looked at me and I swear gave a low snort and
As though Lady Jeffrey read my mind, she discovered a job that had to be done immediately and kept me from riding to see Ella the next day. Instead Stewart and I had to dig out a ditch by the end of the driveway. She wanted it deeper in case of winter rain. I swear she wanted a moat. By evening we both had blisters on top of our callouses and to my shame, I was too tired to spare much of a thought for either Ella or Hazel.Three days had passed since Alice ran home screaming and Ella was arrested. Dawn still hadn't made the horizon as I sat in the kitchen, warming myself in the chair closest to the coal range while I chewed my toast. My gaze fixed at a point on the far wall, but my vision turned inward as I sorted through my plans.Firstly there was the issue of Ella, no doubt freezing in the cold cell. Then there was the girl trapped in another type of gaol. Mr Morris would skin me for gaiters if he caught me around the tower, but I?d risk it for Hazel. My chances of sneaking over t
I screamed until my voice gave out and still I ran. My vocal cords might not have stamina, but my legs did. Blindly, I didn't care what direction or what obstacle stood before me, I ran away. I would surmount anything to leave the horror behind me. But no matter how fast I moved my feet or how hard my lungs worked, it stayed at my back. Death was stitched to me; it formed part of my fabric and rippled over my skin.And it laughed.The black shadow chuckled and mocked my feeble attempts to slip its clutches until, exhausted, I fell to the ground. Then I curled up in a ball, clasped my hands over my head, and sobbed. Why didn't the Grim Reaper cut me down? Then, at least the nightmare would end. An eternity in Hell would not be any worse than living.In the secret room in my mind, I pulled the blanket up and everything went dark.***August 1914. I had turned fifteen a few days earlier when I crept down the barn stairs early one morning. I slipped a bridle over Cossimo's head, jumpe