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
Millicent deMage clung to her secrets. Day by day we worked to dig them up but found only a snippet here or an oblique reference there. Despite what I had imagined, her diaries weren't full of witches?hexes, gory details of people she had ruined, or an outline of how to release an undead plague on the world. Each page was crammed with the boring description of daily life in Elizabethan England. Of interest to a historian, but I struggled to keep my eyes open.While merely conjuring her image still made me shudder, she was an enemy we needed to understand. The more I learned of her through her words, the less I feared her. At night, all the disjointed threads we chased spun through my mind. Like silvery strands from a spider's web, they seemed unrelated until you stood back and saw them woven together. Now I only needed to decipher what the pattern said.I closed the last diary and tossed it on a teetering stack. Seth was occupied on the telephone talking to the War Office and trying
At first light, Alice and I were ready to leave. Magda hugged us both, and then she tapped the end of Alice's nose. "Behave and don't go leading Ella into any trouble."Alice snorted. "Of course not. I am her secretary and chaperone."She lifted her nose in the air in a haughty manner, but she winked over the top of Magda's head and I knew mischief was exactly on her mind. Frank's suffering was about to get a whole lot worse. She picked up the suitcase we shared for the trip and we walked out to the driveway. Dawn bled across the sky as we waited for the motorcar."Red sky in morning, shepherd's warning," Alice whispered the old saying. She wore a practical walking suit left behind by Louise. The dark green pinstripe was a perfect match for her chocolate hair and pale skin.Alice's words shivered over my skin under my clothing and I hoped it wasn't a premonition. While my friend looked the epitome of the working girl, I had tossed and turned all night, trying to decide what to wear. I
Lieutenant Bain became a regular visitor, knocking on the manse door every afternoon and staying for at least two hours. His quiet presence wrought a slow transformation upon Reverend Mason that began the day we cornered the Turned in the orchard. The reverend began to answer, and the lieutenant no longer had to keep up a steady monologue. Simple, single word answers at first, then one day a snatch of conversation.Over a period of days, Mr Mason returned to the world around him. Like a sleeper emerging from an overlong slumber he rubbed his eyes and stretched. His thought processes were still somewhat muddled and his words confused, but he climbed out of his isolation and took stock of his surroundings.Mr Mason even visited the barber for both a shave and a long overdue haircut. His frame was too thin for such a large man, but the warmth and intelligence returned to his gaze. He still spent hours in his study, but now it was poring over old books and scribbling notes that he discusse
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
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 mountai
Even as the wound on my arm healed, I continued to scratch my skin. The angry red line itched and I worried at it, waiting for my pulse to slow and then stop as I became one of them. In the days that followed finding that horrid thing in the backyard, the scratch it had left?oozed.Lieutenant Bain?David?came every day to change the dressing. A noxious black substance stuck to the cotton as though my body repelled some poison. He never once showed any revulsion at the task he undertook or the foul odour that clung to the bandage.David's gentle friendship was so at odds with everything I knew that it did something mother's cruel words used to do. It drove me to tears. At night I sobbed into my pillow, trying to grasp that he might genuinely like me.From the day I was born, I knew only criticism. It was a constant disappointment to my mother that I wasn't as beautiful, poised, or talented as either her or Louise. Every single day of my life I had been judged and found wanting. Until now
Lieutenant Bain excused himself to help Charlotte with the washing up. He stacked the laden trays and left the library humming ?It's a long way to Tipperary,?and I briefly wondered if he was thinking of the sweetest girl he knew. As the library door snicked shut, my mind returned to the issue of witches. I digested the new information and then grasped a tenuous strand of spun silk. The web began to make a pattern I could discern, and this particular fibre could hold the missing patch in a larger question.I turned to Reverend Mason, the idea still spinning in my head. "Are you able to trace genealogies?"His eyes lit up and he rubbed his hands together. "Of course. Nothing the clergy likes better than to keep records of births, marriages and deaths. Or hatched, matched, and dispatched, as we say. What did you have in mind?""Sarah Wynn and Anne Oakley, can you trace their maternal lines to the current generation?" A persistent niggle in my mind refused to go away. How did Elizabeth
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