by A. W. Exley
I bit my lower lip. I refused to cry even though my employer confirmed my evilness. Was he going to cast me out into the street? How could a man of the clergy have a known witch sweeping the floors and cooking his meals? I was sure the church would demand my removal before I tainted, or poisoned, their priest.
"I don't believe that they are all evil," he continued. "I believe our Father allows everyone to freely make a choice. The matter of your birth alone does not decide if you are good or evil, but it is how you choose to live your life. You are a good woman, Charlotte. Anne made her choices but they are hers alone and do not decide your fate."
He reached out and took my hand, then squeezed my fingers. I tried to think my way through the cold fog that descended over my mind. My ancestors stretched back to a woman burned as a witch and possibly a co-conspirator in the horror that now shrouded the world. Some would call my mother a witch for the evil she wrought. I drowned in an ocean of evil and my hands scrabbled for something to cling to or some way of keeping my head above the waves. The reverend threw me a lifeline with his quietly spoken words.
"I am her descendant, but you don't think I'm also a witch?" I asked.
He smiled with the soft reassurance of a man who believed his words. "Free will, Charlotte. It is up to you to determine the sort of person you want to be. But I have faith that you fight on the side of good. Can you find that within yourself?"
A few months ago, I would have said no. Instead I looked around the kitchen, at the small place in the world I carved out for myself. The light hit the row of bottled peaches and they glowed with warmth and highlighted what I was capable of achieving. I thought of the friendship I found with David. Yes, now I was strong enough to reach inside and find the courage to stand on the side of good.
"I think I can."
He smiled. "Good. I have also spoken with the duke. Your presence is required in London tomorrow. The War Office wishes to take a sample of your blood."
My warm thoughts froze as they were doused by frigid water. Would I disappear in their prison like Louise? Why was life so unfair? Just as I reached out for a chance to live my own life, I was thrust back down again.
"No." The word came out partly strangled as I struggled with the injustices of my life.
He gave me another comforting pat. "Eleanor will accompany you. You will not be alone, nor will you be abandoned there. His grace says Eleanor is quite adamant they will not be detaining you, and I think would use her sword to protect you."
Some of the fear retreated. Ella would be by my side and I would borrow some of her strength to make it through tomorrow. "Very well. I might turn in then. Tomorrow will be rather eventful."
I rose from my chair and carried the teacup to the sink.
Wood scraped over the floor as the reverend pushed his chair back. "The duke will send a motorcar to collect you in the morning. Rather early, I'm afraid; you must be at the station by six a.m."
"I shall be ready in time. Goodnight." Given the gnawing worry in my stomach, I suspected sleep would elude me.
At five thirty in the cold and dark, I stood outside on the footpath. The village still slept and I had no concerns about encountering one of the Turned, having discovered I was immune to their virus. I left a light burning in the front parlour to cast a sliver of illumination. I could have waited in the warm kitchen, but my body refused to stay put and nervous energy built inside me. What would today bring?
Headlights rounded the corner and the loud purr of an engine approached. The motorcar pulled to a stop next to me. I glanced over my shoulder at the manse and offered a silent prayer that I would return to my new home. I had grown fond of my life within its strong stone walls.
A soldier emerged from the driver's side and walked around the car.
The smile sprang to my face on its own accord. "David," I breathed his name and it misted on the air in front of my lips.
He returned my smile. "I hope you don't mind. I asked the captain if I could collect you rather than a driver. I'm sure you must be nervous about today, and I wanted you to have a friend by your side."
He opened the passenger door and took my gloved hand.
"I don't mind at all, thank you for being so thoughtful." I tilted my chin in a terribly forward move for me and held my breath as I waited to see if he would accept or decline my invitation.
He pulled me a little closer and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. "It requires no effort on my part to think of you. I find you constantly on my mind."
Gosh. The chill and dark of pre-dawn covered my faint blush as he helped me into the motorcar. I saw why he had kept the engine running—hot air blew from ducts in the dashboard. The interior was as toasty as a seat right in front of the fire.
"You could have waited inside," David said as he slid behind the wheel.
"I couldn't sit still. Out here I could pace like a sentry." Cocooned in the car with both warmth and company, my body finally let out a sigh and some of the tension in my shoulders dissipated. I hadn't been to London since the outbreak of war and I wondered how much it had changed.
"The train trip will take a couple of hours, but you can pace up and down the carriage if needs be." He threw me a wink but kept his eyes on the road.
The familiar landscape became foreign in the dark. The sweep of the motorcar's headlights picked out a tree here or an old farm building there. Others were cloaked in night, hiding until daylight. Did trees move and change places when no one was looking in a midnight dance? What an odd thought to enter my mind. Ever since Reverend Mason told me of my link to Anne Oakley, fanciful ideas bubbled to the surface in my head. As though they were long suppressed but now given permission to make their presence known.
More importantly, what would David think of courting a witch? I couldn't bear it if he cast me aside because of my family association. "Reverend Mason had a revelation for me last night. I have a witch's blood running in my veins. Do you think the War Office will be able to tell when they study it under their microscopes?"
Did I imagine it, or did his hands tighten on the wheel? "I will confess to knowing very little about witches. Perhaps that is one of the mysteries the War Office seeks to uncover, that in examining your blood they may find the source of a witch's power. Coupled with you surviving the original pandemic and rejecting a Turned's scratch, there may be many mysteries to be found in your veins."
There was something to consider, but if my blood was a source of power, why couldn't I ride a broom or turn Louise into a frog? I pushed those thoughts aside to examine later. I had a more pressing concern. "I would understand if you no longer wished to see me, given my links to known witches." There, I had said it aloud. I gave David permission to end our fledgling relationship.
He glanced at me, his brown gaze unreadable. Then his attention returned to the road. Cold dread settled in my stomach. I should have left my question for the end of the day, not the beginning.
"Do you know what keeps a man going in times of war?" his voice was soft, not hard or angry.
"No," I whispered. I hadn't given much thought to it. I presumed they followed orders or nurtured a cold rage to do what they must.
He turned the wheel and the vehicle followed a sweeping curve. "Thinking of the future. Making plans for when the world is at peace and a man can sit in his house beside the woman he loves. All during those days in the trenches I hoped for such a future, but I never imagined one until I met you."
The motorcar came to a stop and David turned off the engine. He turned and gave me his full attention. "I will not abandon you because of what some ancestor did. Besides, I imagine it would be handy to have a witch fighting on our side."
He smiled and the world seemed right. I was a witch. And a house keeper. And I now knew, a woman falling in love. Not even Louise could take that away from me.
16
Ella
A game of cat and mouse
* * *
An early start was nothing new to me, although
once it meant labouring to ensure the house was perfect before step-mother's feet touched the bedroom rug. Today I crept out the kitchen door in the half-light to climb into Seth's motorcar for a strange journey. I would protect one step-sister and ensure the other stayed incarcerated. Let's hope the War Office didn't get the two confused.
It was a short trip to our tiny train station. The dark green engine awaited us already, a steady plume spiralling up from its funnel. The train had two carriages hooked up behind it. One was for passengers, with large windows for watching the scenery chug by. The other looked like a metal box, devoid of any windows or source of light. Steel bands reinforced its sides and an armed guard stood at its single door.
My curiosity was piqued. I frowned at Seth and indicated the armoured carriage with my head.
He glanced at the secure carriage and then shrugged. "No doubt something the War Office wants to keep under wraps and probably why the train was in Cornwall."
But what? I couldn't imagine the secrets the War Office kept from one of their most senior officers in this war. We already had the dead rising up and a long-dead witch. What else could be left, legions of Nosferatu or werewolves?
A driver in blue coveralls leaned out his window at the front. Charlotte and Lieutenant Bain stood on the platform. The lieutenant held her hand and she nestled against him, seeking either warmth from the chill morning or comfort from whatever lay ahead.
I smiled. My suspicion was correct and a romance simmered away in that kitchen. Good. Charlotte deserved to find happiness. Bain was a pleasant chap, and he even did the washing up!
"Not too nervous I hope, Charlotte?" I asked.
The smile she shot at me was distinctly nervous. "I hope they leave enough blood for me to make it home."
"I'll make sure of it. I'll not leave you there." I rubbed her arm, trying to be reassuring. What would I do if they imprisoned her next to Louise? I contemplated how hard it would be to commandeer a landship and break her out.
Another soldier waved us on board and then signalled the driver. Inside, the carriage was comfortable with large brown leather seats and tables between them. Brass luggage racks lined the two walls and curving arms held lanterns closer to the tables. At the rear corner a counter held hot water so we could make tea, and a variety of sandwiches and cakes were hidden inside containers. Out of the landing to the carriage was a tiny convenience, for our comfort. There would be no toilet stops on this journey.
Seth opened up his satchel and dropped a load of dispatches and reports on a table. "Work never ends," he said, as he settled into a crinkled leather seat. The lieutenant took the seat opposite and pulled his own workload from a near identical beaten satchel.
I was relieved I left my piles of paperwork in Seth's office. There was nothing in my research that couldn't wait until tomorrow.
"How about a game of cards?" I asked Charlotte and we settled into the opposite table.
The trip was long and tedious. Dawn broke the horizon, and as we chugged east we watched farmers going about their lives in never ending fields. Charlotte and I kept ourselves entertained with cards, I spy, and finding common pleasant memories.
The train discharged us at the Charing Cross station and another soldier waited on the platform to lead us out to a waiting vehicle. We were certainly having the royal door-to-door treatment. The War Office must want to keep a close watch on Charlotte's blood. The ride to the War Office was so short we could have walked, unless they wanted to make sure Charlotte didn't escape into the lunchtime crowd.
Her nervousness grew, and by the time we climbed out of the car I was worried she might bolt like a frightened horse. I took her hand. "I'm here, remember."
She threw me a weak smile and then her gaze sought out the lieutenant. He winked and her spirits lifted a smidge.
We walked up the steps of the War Office building and into the grand, tiled entrance. People swirled around us, each one intent on their own journey, dodging around one another and either scurrying up stairs, down, or through mysterious doorways.
"Bain and I are needed for a briefing. I need to convince a few of the bigwigs that we're not all insane pursuing Crowley and Millicent. Do you ladies want to wait until we are free to join you, or push on solo?" Seth asked.
The lieutenant shot a worried look at Charlotte. As much as I wanted Seth's support, I was sure I could handle a doctor. I left my sword in the train, but I had a large knife in my boot. Knowing Louise, I suspected the best chance of her letting something slip would be if she were lording it over me, not trying to impress Seth or lure him to the dark side.
I took Charlotte's hand in mine. "We will cope admirably on our own. I also suspect you would be a distraction to Louise."
"Fair point," Seth said and he leaned close to kiss my cheek. "She did seem intent on spilling my blood last time I saw her. We'll regroup afterwards and you can fill us in on the return trip."
The two officers took the sweeping stairs to the airy offices above. Our escort guided us to a side door and a dim stairwell that headed down into the earth. The door closed behind us and blocked out the bustle and activity in the main entrance. High on the walls, electric bulbs flickered in wire cages. They cast a yellow light over the stairs as we trod around and downwards.
The stairs levelled out and stopped at a short hallway and another enormous metal door. Charlotte and I exchanged glances. The door looked like it would withstand a rhinoceros charge. A soldier sat in the chair, but he jumped to attention on seeing our guide.
"Sergeant," he gave a brisk salute that our escort returned.
"We're going to the medical unit," the sergeant said.
The soldier unhooked a keychain from his belt and unlocked two brass locks. A turn of the handle and a door six inches thick swung inward. Our guide waved us through to the next stretch of hallway with more locked and closed doors. I felt as though we tumbled through a labyrinth.
"The medical unit is this way," our guide said, leading us through another sealed door. The next door opened to reveal a room that was an odd mix of hospital and mad science lab. It looked how I imagined the lair of Mary Shelley's infamous Doctor Frankenstein.
Five empty narrow cots with crisp white linen and sharply made corners were lined up along one wall. A metal track encircled the ceiling above each one and a pale blue curtain was tied back against the wall.
Metal shelving covered another wall, each level holding all sorts of jars, bottles, equipment, and stacks of fresh linen. A long bench ran through the middle of the room, and men in white coats bent over microscopes. Others wrote on clipboards as findings were called out. They turned as we entered and a large man stepped forward.
"Miss Jeffrey?" he asked, glancing between Charlotte and me.
"Yes," we answered in unison.
He frowned. Apparently we had confused him.
"This is Miss Charlotte Jeffrey, who survived the original pandemic and then had an unfortunate incident with one of the Turned. I'm her sister." I still kept hold of her hand. There was no way they were prising a family member from me.
"Ah." His gaze lit up. "I am Doctor Yule. We have read the reports about your wound, Miss Jeffrey, and your subsequent recovery. You are the only known person to have been scratched. Other survivors seem to be avoided by the Turned."
Charlotte remained silent but her grasp tightened on my hand. "I confused it with a chicken, it scratched me by accident trying to bat Henrietta away."
"A chicken?" The frown returned to the doctor's face.
We would have more explaining to do, and I didn't have all day. I needed to prod this doctor along. "You wanted a blood sample from Charlotte?"
"Yes. Most definitely. We believe we can manufacture a vaccine that will protect the rest of the population. Take a seat, please." He gestured to one of the cots.
Another white-coated man wheeled a trolley over. A kidney shaped silver bowl held a needle and syringes. Next to it lay a cotton tourniquet, a glass bottle, and a roll of
tubing.
Charlotte paled. It was just as well she was already seated.
"Just how much blood do you intend to take? She needs to make the trip home, you know." These doctors needed to see her as a human being with a life to lead, not an endless supply of blood.
Doctor Yule stuck out his lip and then sucked it back in again, looking like a sullen child. "A quart gallon will suffice. Although more would be better."
These people would drain her dry if they thought they would get away with it. "For you perhaps, not for Charlotte. You will not be taking that much from my step-sister. If you are so desperate for more blood, I suggest you can find volunteers amongst yourselves to be scratched."
A tray clattered and someone else gasped. As I suspected. All well and good to stick needles into Charlotte, but they wouldn't dare venture out of their laboratory and face real danger.
Yule narrowed his gaze and stared at me. I stared back until he broke the connection and backed down.
"We will make do with a pint this time. Would you roll up your sleeve, please?" He picked up Charlotte's arm and placed it on the trolley. Then he tied the tourniquet around her upper arm. A large vein popped into prominence over the inside of her elbow. With an alcohol wipe, the doctor cleaned her skin. Then he picked up a rather large needle. I wasn't so sure I could watch this bit. "You may feel a brief sting as the needle goes in."
Funny that I could remove the head from a vermin, but I couldn't watch a needle slide into Charlotte's arm. She drew in a sharp breath, her hand squeezed mine, and then she exhaled. At which point I figured it was safe to look again.
"Good," the doctor muttered. Next the tubing was attached to the shunt on the needle and screwed into the bottle. Dark red blood flowed up the clear tube and dripped into the bottle. "You can make yourself comfortable on the bed. It won't take too long to fill the jar, but we need you to stay for an hour afterwards."
Charlotte settled back against a pillow. Another was placed under her arm. I perched on the bed next to her, ensuring they took not a drop more than they asked for.