by Craig McNish
“We're not witches!” Parkes squeaked, but Mills wasn't convinced.
“Then if you are not a witch, how might those balls of fire be in the night sky over yonder?” They all followed Mills' outstretched arm; he was pointing at the street lights along the side of the road. “You believe me so stupid to reason I did not notice their presence a long time ago? But with a foggy head I knew not what to think. Now it has cleared, I wish to know what magic you possess to make such apparitions appear. You should know that I am not afraid of your coven, even though there be more of you against only me.”
“Okay, time to chill” said Hodgson, forming the beginnings of a plan but doubtful as to whether it would actually work. “They're not fireballs, just street lights. Just walk over towards the edge of the field and you can see for yourself.” The orange glow of the lighting illuminated a few feet into the perimeter of the field; Mills walked towards it with some apprehension.
“The fire has no heat” he said. “How is such a thing possible? The pole on which it burns is not so high where the warm from the flames could not be felt, even on as cold a night as this one.”
“It's an electric light – doesn't burn, at least not like fire” Hodgson told Mills, and it was at this point his poorly-concocted partial plan fell apart completely.
“Nor illuminate with the brightness of the sun, but more so than an oil lamp.” Mills gazed up at the street light they were standing closest to, about ten feet inside the field. “And also it is possible to look directly into its glare without the need for shielding the eyes after a short moment. It allows me to see your coven more clearly now – what strange clothing you wear. I fancy the material for those coverings was brought by traders from some faraway land, was it not?” Mills took a couple of steps towards Hodgson and reached out, brushing a hand against the padded jacket he was wearing.
“Er, not exactly.” Mills lifted his gaze to meet Hodgson's, ready to question him further on the clothes that he was wearing, when he caught sight of his face; it was the first time since they'd began to speak that he had been able to make out the stranger's features more clearly, and Mills' reaction was a strange one.
“Lieutenant? My apologies, sir; I did not realise it was you.” Mills took a few paces back and offered Hodgson a brief salute. “I heard you were headed back to these parts with your men; Mister Brass mentioned he planned to speak with you about attending his daughter's wedding.” Harper, with his camera still recording, knew that this was going to make for compelling viewing at his next lecture. He couldn't have scripted anything even remotely close to this.
“I think you're confusing me with somebody else...”
“No, absolutely not.” Mills was shaking his head. “I know we have not spoken much but you have visited Brass Farm on occasion and always had the courtesy to bid me good day. Where are the rest of your men? At the inn, no doubt! A half-day's march would make any man thirsty, I suppose. They are good soldiers, and you a good leader, if I might be so bold to say.”
“I wouldn't trust the Hodge-meister to lead a dog properly, never mind an army.” Mills spun round to see a grinning Graham Hunter looking back at him. The grin disappeared when Mills made known his disapproval of the comment.
“You would dare to say such a thing of a Lieutenant in the King's army? I've seen men be thrown into prison for less, or even hanged. It would pay you to be careful how you speak to those who rank more highly than you do.”
“You heard the man – stop giving me shit” said Hodgson, a massive, self-satisfied smile on his face. Mills hadn't taken his eyes off Hunter, who was now starting to feel somewhat unnerved from the piercing stare.
“Your face is familiar to me, but I cannot think from where.” Mills scratched his head, his other hand resting on his chin in contemplation. “I know it well, and yet in my head I recall it being that of a woman...” Harper and Ford laughed openly at their friend's ridicule. “Miss Constance – of course!” Mills offered a low bow. “Many was the time when you asked me to take classes at your school, but my father could not afford to pay and so would not hear of it. Your generous offer to help me learn without needing wages is one I very much wanted to take, but I couldn't argue with my father's wishes, you understand.”
“I do, but very much a pity – I believe you might have made an excellent student, Master Mills. It is not my place to speak ill of your father, but his stubborn ways may have cost you more dearly than just a few pence.”
“What the hell is he talking like that for?” Hodgson whispered to Parkes, who was stood beside him.
“Because he's got the sense not to try and piss him off and wants to communicate with Mills more on his level than ours” she said. “Maybe you should have thought about doing the same. Lucky for you your seemingly high rank in the army saved your backside. But this is amazing; I think it's more than just trying to relate to people that he knew back then – it could be that we really are related to them.”
“So Hodgy is a descendant of this army Lieutenant?” asked Ford.
“Exactly.” Parkes nodded. “And as far as I'm aware, none of us has ever done our family tree. With the exception of Matt, we were all born pretty close to here so I guess it's conceivable we could have distant relatives who lived in Ferryhill or nearby at that time. People didn't exactly move around back then as easy as they do now, did they?”
“I'm probably descended from the best of society” Ford bragged, preening herself. “With my looks, I could easily be a Princess or something.”
“More likely the village idiot” Harper called out from behind his camera. Mills, who was chatting away to Hunter – or Constance Merryman, as he knew him to be from the familiar features – visibly bristled at the word 'idiot'.
“I AM NOT AN IDIOT!” he shouted as he made for Harper, who looked to be thinking twice about running but remained rooted to the spot due to either fear or fascination. “What right do you feel you have that might give you freedom to judge a man so, stranger? I have known of you barely one hour and you believe it is correct to speak badly of me? Maybe I should teach you a lesson in manners...” Hunter's efforts at peaceful discourse had come undone in seconds, but Ford noticed something far more sinister.
“Did you see his eyes when Matt said that? I could swear they glowed red for just a few seconds. Or maybe it was a reflection off the street lights?” she offered, noticing the alarmed look on her friend's faces.
“You said Mills claimed to be possessed by the Devil at the time he committed the murders, right?” Parkes said to Hodgson. He could feel the colour starting to drain from his face. “So if that's true, who knows what he's capable of?”
“We should get rid of him like right now” suggested Ford, seeing Mills and Harper standing a few feet apart and staring each other down. Hodgson shook his head.
“Could be better to wait and see if he recognises the rest of us, just in case it works in our favour.” They had to give Hodgson the benefit of the doubt, for Mills had just approached Harper and was slapping him heartily on the back.
“Tom Laxe! It is good to see you once more, sir! Didn't I say not to be surprised by any strange events that might happen after I was led to the gallows? If we had decided to have a wager on such a thing then you would owe me money! How fortunate that would have been for me!”
“Tom who? Hodgy, who's Tom Laxe?”
“You still have your sense of humour, gaoler – I like that! You were my only companion for seven months and more – apart from the rats, of course – and that puts me in your debt. If there is ever need for you to have help in that house of villains you keep then do not be afraid to ask a favour of me.”
“Call him on it now, Matty – tell him to get lost. Why would we ask for favours from a murderer? They should have kept you locked up...” Hodgson gave Ford a dig in the side with his elbow.
“Anna, what the fuck?” A shimmer of intense red light played in Mills' eyes again, and this time for considerably longer than before.
“So, we have another who believes they can speak their mind and be the judge of one they barely know.” Mills approached Ford, who moved behind a mildly alarmed Hodgson for protection. “Well, I should have known! Only you would continue to run your mouth at such a rate, Sellby, though I must say you do have my admiration for producing one who would look so pretty. You have no bottle in your hand? No wonder I did not recognise you more quickly!”
“Sellby...he was a vagrant, wasn't he?” Said Hodgson, recalling the reports he had pored over regarding Mills' story.
“Indeed he was, Lieutenant – your memory serves you well! The man was nothing but a drunkard – even his whore wife got away from there when she could! Always in drink, weren't you Sellby? You old fool. How you might even begin to produce as fine a looking creature as this is beyond my knowledge. Tom Laxe's daughter might have run away to marry a pig farmer, but at least he was a man of money. I doubt even Anne Sanders would show you any affection if you were to offer her a gold crown for the trouble!”
“You're saying I'm related to the town drunk? No way, you lying bastard! I'm too good to be the descendant of any vagrant – you said it yourself! I don't know who this 'Anne Sanders' is, but if the pisshead wouldn't touch her then she's probably your mother.”
“YOU KNOW NOTHING OF MY MOTHER! I SHOULD KILL YOU WHERE YOU STAND, VAGRANT! My mother was a fine, upstanding woman who was taken from me by an illness that was no fault of her own. You and your coven bring me back to this earth with so many years passed – Andrew Mills, a murderer of children – yet you say I am the idiot? The beer has made your tongue loose, Sellby – maybe it should be removed...”
“And you think you can do it? Try, I dare you.” Hodgson saw a brief flash of light in his peripheral vision; his gaze automatically followed, leaving him nonplussed when he saw that it seemed to have originated from Mills' hands, which were down at his side. But Harper still had his camera operational and was very excited.
“Woah, did you see that?”
“See what?” Said Hunter.
“When Anna pissed Mills off just there, daring him to remove her tongue; his hands kind of glowed and I'm sure he had hold of something, but just for a second before it disappeared. I'll be able to tell better when I get a chance to have a look at what I've recorded, but I could swear it was sticks or poles in his hands.”
“Well he used to handle livestock, run ploughs and so on” Hodgson recollected. “So possibly some kind of farming implement?” But the side debate was brought to a rapid conclusion when Mills picked up on something else.
“All of you here today, my blood is on your hands. I can see it, even if you cannot. And it will stay with you for a long time to come; your children, and their children, and their children's children – all will have my blood on their hands for all eternity unless you take your leave now.”
Mills recalled saying those exact words as he stood on the gallows. He looked at Ford more closely; not her face, but her clothes and even more so her hands. His eyes skirted over the red-stained jacket and came to rest on her palms, which also appeared to be bloodied.
“Did I not warn that those who remained to watch as I should die would wear my blood on their hands for many years to come? Why, I shouldn't be surprised that you are covered in the stuff, Sellby, saying as how you felt it right to pursue me right until the end. You rode on the wagon where I was shackled as though it were your own personal carriage! You did not feel it was enough that I was going to hang for these crimes, deciding also that you should mock me on my way to the gallows? Even the rats were a better companion than you could ever be, you despicable creature. Well the blood of Andrew Mills has done exactly what I said it would do; its mark will remain upon thee until the end of time.”
“What the hell are you on about? I haven't got any blood on my clothes or my hands – have I? Hodgy? Jane?”
“I can't see anything...”
“That is the thing that amuses me, Lieutenant. I saw many people in the crowd of all ages with such markings, and not one of the fools could even guess that they were covered. But I see it clearly, and I know from its presence that you took great delight in seeing me hang. Well I should like to see you with your head in a noose, Sellby, and now I might get that chance. Nobody would mourn your loss, vagrant.” Mills could feel the warmth running through his body again; his eyes gleamed red. An ominous stand-off ensued.
“Please don't hurt my friends! We should never have brought you here, and I'm sorry that we did!”
“Ah, the fifth member of your coven! You speak kindly and wisely, but it is a little late now, don't you think? Why would I simply disregard the words of unthinking fools so that they might repeat them ten times more? I am a patient man, but now I have had my fill. It could be I will spare your life, and that of the Lieutenant and the gaoler, also Miss Constance, but how I would love to see Sellby die by my hand. Even when I was shackled inside a cage I managed to break the man's arm, and now I am free to move however I choose. Feel lucky if I give you a quick and less painful death, vagrant.” Parkes impulsively leapt forward and clasped a hand on Mills' shoulder in a last-gasp attempt to prevent him following through with his threat.
“Remove your hand, woman – my quarrel is not with you unless you make it so! If you wish to die alongside Sellby here then...” Mills stopped speaking when he saw Parkes' face, his look a one of amazement, but also awe.
“Miss Jane, I did not realise it was you – please, forgive me...” He dropped to one knee and bowed his head.
“How did you know my name?”
“How could I possibly not? Yours was the first face that I saw on my arrival at Brass Farm, and a fair image at that. When you looked at me and smiled, there was joy in my heart. Very fond I was of Miss Elizabeth and we had some glorious times; she made for very welcome company while I went about my chores and was always with a tale to tell, but it was you who captured my heart and held it so. I would often wish it was me you were going to marry and not William Cutter, but a servant boy has no chance of winning a fight for love when his opponent is the well-respected son of a wealthy trader.” Mills was still kneeling in front of a slightly embarrassed Parkes. Hodgson, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, quietly signalled to the others that they should run when he gave the word. Harper and Ford began to back away slowly in the direction of the road, with Hunter staying close by in case Hodgson needed assistance; he could only guess there was going to be physical conflict and didn't want to leave his friend to fight alone. Mills, who was still in full flow about his apparently deep love for who Hodgson figured had to be Jane Brass, was distracted enough not to hear anyone approaching him from behind. Parkes' eyes flicked up; Hodgson held a finger to his lips.
“Get the fuck out of here!” He yelled. Ford and Harper took off towards the opening in the fence where they had entered the field, which was about fifty metres away. Only now did Mills sense trouble; looking over his shoulder as he raised from a stooping position gave Hodgson the perfect chance to try and disable his adversary. A well-timed kick caught Mills on the chin and knocked him backwards, winding him slightly as he hit a mound in the frozen earth. A wide-eyed Parkes looked on in horror before coming to her senses and starting to run, but her quick decision on which direction to go and lack of bearings sent her off in the opposite direction to Ford and Harper, heading deeper into the pitch black field. Hunter joined Hodgson to try and finish the assault quickly, and within moments they too were on the move as Mills lay curled up on his side, trying to catch his breath and recover from the initial surprise of the attack. Now there was more than warmth in his body; he felt as though his blood was starting to boil in his veins.
'Andrew Mills – I command thee!
'Lift thyself up from this frozen mud
'Act not now so cowardly
'I want to see their blood.'
The words from a familiar voice gave Mills cause to spring to his feet. “But I have no weapons with which to
fight apart from my bare hands” he said. “Against one I possibly could stand, but against five I fear there would be small chance I would succeed.”
'I provide thee with arms to level the fight
'As three must die upon this night.'
Mills felt a burning sensation in his hands; he was holding onto the two axes that he used to own when at Brass Farm. These were the weapons he had used to slaughter the Brass children, and he could see their blood on the axe head and handle. Now Mills felt complete. The urge to attack was overwhelming. Hodgson and Hunter had run in the opposite direction to Ford and Harper, an intentional move so Mills would have three groups of escapees to hunt down. Knowing this to be impossible meant at least one of them would in all likelihood be able to get help. Mills quickly weighed up his options; his two attackers would be taken down first, and then he would go for Jane. The other two could leave – he would find them later.
'Those who were once friends have turned against thee, Andrew Mills! Thine work here is not done, and you cannot rest until it is so! It is time for me to claim my rightful place upon this earth and it is without chance thee was brought here – you have been chosen to do my bidding! We must finish what has been started – I long to see more blood! Kill all, Andrew Mills!
'Kill All!
'Kill All!
'KILL ALL!'
Mills took off after Hodgson and Hunter, and it was impossible for him not to immediately notice the differences his body had undergone since the resurrection; he felt lighter on his feet, more dexterous and with a keener eye than he could ever remember possessing. It was though the dark had become daylight, and his feet easily picked out every single rock, trough and divot in the ground that might at one time have sent him sprawling had he tried to move at such a speed through a ploughed field at night. Hunter chanced a look over his shoulder and was amazed to see Mills making up considerable ground on him and Hodgson.