by A. W. Exley
His warm breath feathered over my neck as he stood behind me. "Possibly, but I've never seen it before. Frank and I never made it into here, despite our best efforts to open the door."
"As long as it doesn't move, or I'm smashing the dome and taking off its head," I muttered. Did she have the bird stuffed to join her in the afterlife, or the undead one?
We searched every nook and cranny of Millicent's suite. One man went under the bed, we pulled out armoires to look behind and even turned over the mirror, searching for hidden doors.
"On to phase two," Seth said, brandishing his crowbar. "First we check if there's any space between the floors. Then we'll check all the walls."
We worked until the outside light began to fade, but we found nothing. Not even a priest hole, and certainly no hidden passages or secret chambers. I swear as the birds all flew to the hedgerows and trees to roost for the night, I heard a raven crow in laughter. Millicent's bedchamber now looked like it survived a renovation by incompetent builders. Floorboards were prised up, wallpaper was ripped and scattered over the floor. Ancient plaster dribbled dust from holes torn in the walls.
"She's here. I can feel it in my bones," I said. We just needed to find where they hid hers.
14
Ella
The search continues
* * *
Seth dismissed the men for the evening and he suggested I freshen up in the room set aside for my use. I didn't even offer token resistance. Not when there was the lure of modern luxuries like hot running water and electric lights. I discarded the sixteenth century and embraced the twentieth. After shedding my dusty clothes, I filled the green tiled bathroom with steam, poured a little fragrant oil into the bath, and then sank into the water.
I closed my eyes and let my mind unwind. We were so close to answers. Yes, I was disappointed not to find Millicent recumbent on her bed, awaiting a kiss from her demonic prince. But she was near. She chose this particular spot for the house for a reason. Fae paths and ley lines ran under our feet. The ancient catacombs criss-crossed this land. Events were set in motion hundreds of years before, but we would stop her from spreading her plague.
An hour later I was freshly scrubbed, scented, and wearing a clean dress. I headed downstairs to the library; the room had become our quiet haven. Warrens set the tiny table for dinner and then retreated, leaving us with only the books and each other for company. I wished I could prolong these nights. Once we vanquished Millicent and life returned to normal, Seth would once again pick up the obligations of a duke. His time would no longer be mine to monopolise.
"You're quiet this evening," he said as we supped on a hearty pea and ham soup with fresh crusty bread.
"I have so many ideas and theories screaming out in my head, my voice is lost amid the din." I chewed my bread roll, my eyes half closed as I let my subconscious pick the best thread to untangle.
"I would always hear your voice above any other," he said, his grey gaze intense.
A shiver worked through my body. His words were always polite, but the look that accompanied them often undid me. Especially now that we knew each other intimately, my body anticipated the things that only Seth could show me.
"Do you ever feel helpless, with so much in front of us and so much we don't know or understand?" I wondered how he maintained his calm exterior when we were up against an enemy who didn't even exist in our world.
He reached across the table and took my hand in his. With his thumb, he drew circles on my palm and then stroked up and along my lifeline. "We only have two alternatives. We either give up and wait for the Turned to overwhelm us all, or we keep fighting even when we cannot see our enemy."
"There are days I feel as though I am adrift in the ocean and I have forgotten how to swim. I fear I will disappear with the next wave," I whispered. Only to Seth could I confide how much I struggled to maintain my façade as confident village slayer.
"No one expects you to cope with everything all the time. We all have moments of self-doubt. That's why we have each other, so there is someone else to lean on when you need it most." A trace of sadness lingered in his gaze as silence embraced us both.
We sat like that for several minutes, listening to the tick of the old grandfather clock and the crackle of wood on the fire. Then my spirits revived and the questions flowed at a more leisurely pace through my mind.
"What did the original house look like?" I asked. Having seen the interior, I was curious about the original exterior.
"Ah." His gaze perked up and he let go of my hand to rise and pace to one of the soaring bookcases. Seth ran a fingertip along spines, searching for something. "I have a book with some early prints if you would like to see."
I stifled a laugh behind my hand and schooled my face into a serious expression. "Are you asking me if I want to see your etchings?"
Seth found a large volume wrapped in red leather and lifted it down from the shelf. He arched an eyebrow at me. "We could take this to my room along with a nightcap?"
He left the question hanging. He let me dictate how events of a personal nature would unfold. He never pushed me for more than I was comfortable giving.
"Do you think Warrens could send a note home to say I am staying in my room here?" Father and the others would worry if I weren't home by ten, yet my body craved contact with Seth. The deep knot of anxiety inside me needed a release only he could bring.
"I'm sure Frank would oblige. He seems to be on flirting terms with Alice again and it would give him an excuse to visit." He placed the book on the desk.
We had come full circle. Once Alice and Frank conspired to throw me in Seth's path, and now we helped them mend their broken hearts. "Yes, please. I don't want anyone to worry about my whereabouts."
Warrens was summoned and he went to find Frank. Seth's devilish half brother had a glint in his eye and a smirk on his lips when I asked him to reassure my family that I would be staying the night at Serenity House.
Then Seth retrieved the book and tucked it under one arm. He offered his other arm to me. "Now, would the young lady like to come upstairs and see my drawings?"
That time I did snort out loud.
The next day we started once the sun rose and continued to breathe life into the old part of the house. We opened shutters, prised planks of wood off windows, and flung back dust covers. Tendrils of light crept into rooms like trails of exploring ivy. We searched every inch of house for as long as the daylight lasted.
"Why are there no electric lights in this part?" I muttered. My eyes burned from squinting in low light in yet another dim room.
"Because it wasn't invented in Tudor times. The main part of the house was only wired for electric lights twenty years ago." Seth pinched the bridge of his nose, the only outward sign that he too fought back fatigue.
"Some witch Millicent was." We needed to find her, and the lack of any trace, apart from the ever-staring raven, wore on my nerves.
Frank picked up the stuffed bird and tried to stare it down. "I say we make the bird talk. It must know something." He pantomimed slapping the bird's face as though it were an enemy prisoner.
The smile came to my lips but I was too tired to laugh. Another long day and we had destroyed more of the old house. We refined our technique somewhat and made regular small holes in floors and walls to peer behind, searching for hidden chambers or long dead duchesses.
Seth ran a hand through his hair and distributed plaster dust through his dark locks, turning it prematurely grey. "Let's call it a day and start again tomorrow. We have nearly turned the entire Tudor wing upside down. All we have left are the original kitchens below us and the servants’ quarters in the attic."
"I can't see Millicent being laid to rest in either of those places." I raised my gaze to the ceiling. Or would we find her perched up in the attic like a bat? If she were hanging upside down that would make removing her head easier.
"Come on, bath and dinner." Seth tugged on my hand and pulled my body and my tho
ughts away from Elizabethan England.
An hour or two later, scrubbed and hungry, I followed my regular path to the library, where we dined on an exquisite trout.
"Warrens caught it himself out in the lake," Seth said.
Was there anything the butler couldn't do? "I hope you pay that man enough for all he does."
"I like to think there are some things I do perfectly adequately myself." He didn't look up or meet my gaze, but despite the serious tone Seth was being playful.
"Oh, entirely adequate," I murmured, my gaze fixed on my next forkful of dinner. If I looked up now, I would burst out laughing. How could anyone think him staid? Seth was wrapped in a multitude of layers; all you needed was the patience to help him peel them away to reveal his true self.
When the silence dragged for too long, I finally raised my gaze to find his highly amused one fixed on me.
"I'll show you how adequate I am later." He picked up his glass and toasted me.
"Any news from London?" The newspapers were notoriously slow in distributing updates on the war. Seth's daily telephone calls to the head office kept us abreast of any advancement.
"We are closing in on our enemy, step by step. The War Office is following up our discovery of immunity amongst the original pandemic victims. They are working on a way to vaccinate people against the virus the Turned spreads, which would stop them increasing in numbers."
A sigh of relief spread through my body. Imagine if everyone throughout the world could receive such a vaccine. The Turned would become impotent, no one else would succumb to their plague, and our war would be reduced to a clean up operation.
Seth continued, "To facilitate their research, they want a sample of Charlotte's blood."
"No." I dropped my cutlery and frowned. I vowed to protect Charlotte from the same fate as Louise. At least one of my step-sisters would not be confined in a secret bunker for the rest of her life. "Surely they could use the blood of any original pandemic survivor?"
"They could, but Charlotte is the only known person who was subsequently scratched by one of the Turned. Her body rejected its poison, and we have proof she emerged unscathed. Funnily enough, there's a distinct lack of volunteers who want to be attacked to confirm whether it works on everyone." Seth picked up the tall pitcher and filled my wine glass with water.
While I delighted in the way the bubbles in champagne tickled my nose as I drank the expensive alcohol, I preferred non-intoxicating water and keeping my senses about me. There would be plenty of time to indulge once we defeated Millicent and sent all her minions back to ground. Assuming we found her first.
I took a long sip. The water here was cool and refreshing, drawn from the house's deep well out in the yard. There was a thought; perhaps Millicent was at the bottom of the well? Although I imagined her presence would foul the water. "If they insist, then I will be with her when they take Charlotte's blood. I'll not have her subjected to their whims on her own."
Seth nodded, as though my protest had been expected. "They want her in London as soon as possible."
I sighed. Bother. Everything was urgent. Which was the more pressing issue, finding where Millicent's body resided or making sure Charlotte wasn't locked up next to Louise?
"Bain and I have a meeting at the War Office to attend, so we will all go to London. Apparently the army has a special train coming through from Cornwall and it will pick us up on the way through Somerset to London." Seth paused, his hand on the stem of his drink, as one finger tapped against the glass.
Something unspoken lingered in his pause. "What else?"
He took a sip of wine before meeting my gaze. "There is another problem in London that is hollering your name in particular."
"Louise." It seemed my step-sister hadn't left my story after all. She wanted to come back for an epilogue.
He nodded. "Apparently the boys can't get her to talk about the Turned's plans. But she is most insistent that she be allowed a wee chat with you."
"Which means she does know something and wants to dangle the knowledge and make me jump for it like a fat lap dog after a treat." That was how Louise's mind worked. No point in knowing a secret if you can't torment the scullery maid with the fact you know a secret.
I circled the rim of my glass with a fingertip as I thought. "A trip to London then, how nice. Have there been any more attacks in the city?"
After we dispatched the vermin discharging from the alley, we had endured a long night. The War Office wanted a full debrief on the encounter, both verbally and written. I would never understand why slaying an enemy resulted in so much paperwork—and all in triplicate.
Seth pushed his glass away and leaned back in his chair. "They are on the rise. Turned are emerging from the sewers in greater numbers. It appears London is atop a hive, but they cannot pinpoint its exact location."
London was a rabbit warren both above and below ground. It could take weeks or even months to search every tunnel and sewer. "How long before Millicent has the more she needs and awakens?"
Seth's short fingernails rapped on the table top. "Let's hope Reverend Mason uncovers something to aid in our battle before she does."
In the Great War our men went off to battle and we prayed for their safe return. Little was spiritual about using guns and cannon to kill your fellow man. Now in the Grim War, it seemed prayer and a belief in something beyond what we could see or touch might be the ultimate weapon at our disposal.
"Do you really think the spiritual and temporal can work together?" I had trouble reconciling how the work of a priest would fit within the rigid beliefs held by the army.
Seth chuffed a quiet laugh. "In this instance, yes. The War Office is giving us free rein to pursue our line of enquiry, but it's strictly hush-hush. The top brass thinks talk of witches and curses is all a bit mad, but we've proved correct so far with your deductions. Meanwhile they will continue with Churchill's modified tanks to combat the Turned."
There was one concern I could relegate to the back of my mind, and I would let church and state sort out their own boundaries. I would just have to hope that our different lines of enquiry ultimately equipped us to battle Millicent.
"When will our special train collect me for my appointment to be tormented by Louise?" My mind returned to a previous comment.
"London wants us there ASAP. We're to meet at the station at 0600 tomorrow. I telephoned the manse while you were in the bath. I'll send Bain to collect Charlotte and meet us there."
I raised my glass of water and toasted my imprisoned step-sister. "Then I hope Louise's arrogance trips her up and a pertinent fact will fall from her lips."
15
Charlotte
A day of revelations
* * *
I sat at the kitchen table with my feet up on the opposite chair, relaxing after another busy day. I had tackled preserving with the last of the autumn peaches. A half dozen glass jars sat on the bench, and I couldn't put them away in the larder just yet. The skinned fruit were like jewels, their rich golden colour contained by the juice that would keep them from spoiling over winter.
I allowed myself a moment of pride at another task conquered. I basked in the sense of accomplishment, silly perhaps, but there had been so few such instances in my life. With the dishes done and the kitchen tidied away for another day, silence settled over the house as darkness fell. I idly flicked through a recipe book, considering my options for tomorrow's dinner, when the hall door swung open and Reverend Mason appeared.
"Ah, Charlotte," he said.
I dropped my feet to the ground and sat a little taller in my chair. "Yes, Mr Mason, do you require something?"
A kind smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "A moment of your time, is all. There is something I wanted to discuss with you first, before I pass the information on to Eleanor."
Had I done something wrong? Worse, had my change commenced and I had not noticed? My heart stuttered in my chest and I placed a hand over it to reassure myself that it s
till beat within me.
He pulled out the chair beside me and lowered his tall frame. "I have been researching certain local women, at the request of Eleanor."
"The witches." I licked my lips. David told me that there was some hare-brained theory about a powerful witch being behind the horrible creatures. Nonsense, surely? The Turned were the creation of some terrible disease, that's all. How could anyone, witch or not, have done that to people on purpose?
"Yes." He laced his hands on the table. "I have been researching the lineage of two in particular. Sarah Wynn had two daughters who left our shores for America and were caught up in some trouble in Salem. The other witch was a noble by the name of Anne Oakley. Her daughters stayed in these parts. I have traced her offspring down through time, to our current day."
"Oh?" The word scratched over my tongue, my mouth suddenly dry of any moisture, and my hand reached for the cup of tepid tea in front of me. The name Anne Oakley sounded familiar and it itched in my mind. Where had I heard it before?
The reverend unlaced his hands and laid them flat, as though not sure what to do with them. "Eleanor had a suspicion that has proven correct. As it transpires, your mother, the former Lady Jeffery, is a direct maternal descendant of Anne Oakley."
And I was my mother's daughter, making me the distant relative of a witch. I took a slurp of lukewarm tea and let the moisture return to my throat before I could answer. "I'm related to a witch."
A witch's blood flowed through my veins. I tried so hard to climb out from under mother's shadow, to become my own person, only to discover a far darker cloud enveloped my life. It wasn't fair. All I wanted was to live a simple and ordinary life, but fate kept casting me as the evil step-sister.
Mr Mason reached out and took my hand. "There are those, both within the church and without, who hold that all witches are evil."