Rory, the Sleeper

by A. W. Exley

  The creature uttered a startled cry and then its head fell back to the cold metal. Its eyelids fluttered and then closed. I probably imagined it, but I thought it gave a sigh of relief.

  Ella approached with her sword drawn, but still the Turned did not move. It lay as though it were truly dead.

  What had I done?

  Ella hadn't seemed to notice anything awry. Using her sword, she stabbed it through the chest and then swung it off the side of the train.

  I dropped back into the carriage and hopped off the table as she lowered her body through the hatch.

  "That one seemed to be playing dead," she said.

  "Yes, playing dead," I repeated. But I knew it wasn't. Whatever I had conjured inside had released its soul and severed its connection to Millicent, enabling the unfortunate to find true peace.

  "I'm sorry, Charlotte, but there were no survivors in the cart. You saw that one, he was hiding in the back when the train caught it and shoved it out of the way." Ella put her sword away and changed from warrior to kitchen maid, busying herself making cups of tea.

  The door rattled and opened and then the duke and David entered. Both men had wide eyes that shone with excitement.

  "I take it you two were responsible for those bombs raining down outside?" I asked, taking a cup from Ella.

  "The army has two modified mortar cannons in the back, and they were rather handy. The private is back there writing up a report. Apparently that was better than any field exercise." David winked at me.

  I didn't understand men and their excitement at watching things blow up. I could only think of the poor souls forced to fight in a war not of their making. I had made something happen up on the roof, now I needed quiet time to consider what and how.

  The duke slid behind a table and stretched his arm out along the seat. Ella placed tea and biscuits in front of him before taking the seat opposite. David sat across from me. I supposed it was a very English response to make a cup of tea. What would Americans do? Serve alcohol, I suspect.

  "It would seem we have confirmed that Louise has switched her allegiance to Millicent," the duke said. "We should probably figure out how, so she doesn't lay an ambush again."

  "Hive communication doesn't need you to use a telephone or write a letter. They do it all with the power of their minds, somehow." Ella tapped the side of her head.

  "Assuming she cannot pluck information from the heads of the living, a starting point would be to starve her of any information. Even the daily newspaper might tell her something of our movements and allow her to orchestrate the Turned to attack our men." David added to the conversation.

  Ella played with a biscuit, breaking it into tiny pieces. "Where did they all come from?" Her blue gaze was rimmed with worry when she looked up. "There were easily a thousand Turned out there, if not more. Where has Millicent been hiding them all? And how many more does she have at her disposal?"

  I swallowed. I didn't want to think about that.

  The duke placed his satchel on the table and drew out paper and a pen. "I have much to report to the War Office. May as well write my dispatch now, while events are fresh in our minds."

  I sat at my table and nursed my cup of tea. Outwardly I was calm. Inside I was a raging ocean. Waves buffeted me as my thoughts were tossed first one way and then another. What had I done, and could I do it again? Before I knew it, the train gave another bump and my gaze flew to David with alarm.

  "Another trap?" My throat closed over the words and they emerged as a hoarse whisper.

  He took my hand, his warm touch doused the panic that flared in my breast. "No. We’ve arrived safely at our station. You'll soon be safe at the manse."

  Safe. Such a comforting word, but would any of us be safe until this war was over? Outside in the cool night, an army car took me from train station to the village manse. Ever the gentleman, David walked with me to the door.

  "Will you be all right?" he asked, his thumb rubbing circles on my wrist.

  "Yes," I whispered. "If Reverend Mason is awake, I might talk to him for a little while."

  David nodded and then he leaned forward and kissed me. His lips brushed mine with a caress as gentle as his presence. Warmth and care enveloped me and the ember glowed hotter in my stomach. I had virtually no experience in kissing, so I tried to mimic his movements. I hoped I did it right.

  He pulled back and smiled at me. "I'll see you tomorrow, in the daylight. To make sure you are unscathed after your adventure and the blood loss."

  My fingers went to the bandage on my arm. I had forgotten about the blood the doctors took. It seemed a lifetime ago, before Louise's final betrayal.

  20

  Ella

  Formulating a battle plan

  * * *

  I climbed into bed completely exhausted but with my body still too restless to sleep. My mind raced faster than the train speeding away from Louise's ambush. She had revealed too much and in doing so, gave us a glimpse of Millicent's plans. Not only that, we now knew she had a large army hiding somewhere in plain sight. Or more likely, under our feet.

  It was conceivable that Millicent had amassed an army in the North Wessex Downs. The landscape there was remote, isolated, and hauntingly beautiful. It was also little visited, being popular mainly with archaeologists and bird watchers. I wondered about the vermin that had poured out of the alley in London. How many thousands of the undead waited in the sewers and forgotten tunnels of our capital?

  Despite thinking I had far too much to dwell on, sleep claimed me. I awoke as the pale wintry sunlight peeked around my drapes. I stretched my arms over my head and took a moment to enjoy the sense of peace that washed through my soul. This was my home. In the room across the hallway, Father improved daily. With the aid of loyal Henry, he had begun taking short walks outside. We had finished work tidying up the cottage at the end of the garden and tucked up safe in her bed there, Alice dreamed of her future.

  I would lay down my life to protect my friends and family. Instinct whispered that day rapidly approached. If I were a soldier in the trenches, I would suspect today was the day for a big push over the top.

  While we were in London, Seth's men worked to uncover the long buried cellars at Serenity House. We hoped to find Millicent within. Then I would confront our enemy and—what? Take off her head? I didn't know yet. We planned to descend on Reverend Mason and see what intelligence he had gathered to help in the final battle.

  In the kitchen, I soaked up every detail of our everyday life and hugged it to myself. The chatter of Magda and Alice, who smiled and laughed with such ease. The quiet companionship of Henry, whose hand constantly doodled on any available paper. The enticing aromas of fresh bread baking in the oven and coffee for Father perking on the stove top. Would I return that evening? Try as I might, I couldn't still the sense of dread working through my veins. A visit to the manse seemed more fraught than surviving Louise's trap.

  "What are you up to today, love?" Magda said as she set the tray for Father.

  "I'm going to the manse, to see what light Reverend Mason can shed on our enemy witch." My nerves wound a little tighter. So long ago, an innocent visit to the reverend to learn the history of my sword led to me removing a man's head and being condemned as the village slayer. What would today's visit bring?

  "Be home for dinner. Sir Jeffrey does like to have us all around the table." She squeezed my shoulder and then slid the tray over to Henry to take upstairs.

  I rose and shrugged a warm wool jacket over my shoulders. Then I settled the familiar sword at my back. A lump formed in my throat and I swallowed it down. Tears heated my eyes. What if I never saw any of them again? "I will try, I promise."

  The ride to the village gave me time to exhaust my tears, and they had dried on my cheeks by the time I switched off the bike's engine. I parked Trusty behind Seth's gleaming motorcar and walked up the front path to the picturesque cottage. Spent flower heads tugged at my boots and scattered their seed. The banksia roses o
ver the porch defied looming winter and continued to bloom. I stroked a velvety yellow flower and took a quiet moment to enjoy the rose's determination.

  Then I knocked on the door.

  It seemed to open almost immediately, as though Charlotte paced beyond waiting for me. Tired lines pulled at her eyes, but she smiled on seeing me.

  "Ella, I hope you got some sleep last night; it eluded me entirely."

  "I believe I dropped off mid-thought." I couldn't remember nodding off. I had been trying to figure out how Louise was communing with Millicent, and the next thing I knew, it was morning already.

  "Oh, we are all so tired that David suggested we substitute coffee for tea today." She led the way down the short hall to the reverend's domain.

  I was surprised to find the reverend dressed as though ready to give a sermon. He wore his black suit with the black collar and its stark white insert. His face was freshly shaven and his hair slicked back. He conversed in quiet tones with Seth and the lieutenant. The men all leaned over an old book on his desk.

  Seth turned and his gaze fixed on me. "Ella," he murmured my name in a way that made a delicious shiver work down my spine. It reminded me it had been some days since I lay in his arms. A situation I wanted to remedy after today, if I made it back home.

  He took my hand and pulled me closer to his body, and then placed a warm kiss on my cheek. "The men have broken through to the old cellars under the house. I thought after this we could remove the last stones and try again to flush out our prey?"

  "You always offer the best after dinner entertainment." I tried to smile, but either my face was too tired to comply or my brain knew there wouldn't be any after. Louise sending hundreds of vermin to destroy us at the Downs proved we sat on an unlit powder keg. This moment here, today, was where we would draw the battle lines and make our stand.

  "But first, let us pool resources and figure out how to defeat Millicent." With a hand on the small of my back, he directed me to the sofa. Charlotte sat next to me and played mother, pouring out rich-smelling coffee.

  Seth and David took the opposite sofa, and the reverend occupied the armchair that formed the head of the furniture arrangement.

  "His grace has told me of your unfortunate adventure last night." Mr Mason leaned forward in the chair, his forearms resting on his knee as he lightly tapped his fingertips together. "It has confirmed that there are dark forces mustered against us in this war."

  "But how do we stop her, when we still don't truly understand what Millicent is doing? I wish I knew what the more was that Mrs Linton and Elizabeth both said she needed." I stared at an almost complete jigsaw puzzle, just that one piece eluded me. Why couldn’t I make out what it was?

  "Souls," Charlotte whispered the word.

  "What?" We all said in unison and four sets of eyes focused on Charlotte.

  "The Turned are dead, their souls in Heaven," Lieutenant Bain said.

  Charlotte shook her head. "I don't think so. Not after last night. What if Millicent holds their souls, trapped, and uses her dark power to control their forms?"

  "What happened last night, Charlotte?" We left her safe in the carriage. She only popped her head up after we cleared the track and one vermin was flung onto the roof.

  Charlotte placed her coffee back on the low table and rose. She paced back and forth in front of the reverend's desk, her hands tormenting a corner of her skirt. "You will all think me quite mad, but I believe a spell released the soul of the unfortunate who landed on the carriage roof, and then it truly died and its soul went to Heaven."

  I wanted to dismiss her words as the imaginings of someone who had been frightened. But there was an earnest quality to her words, and I couldn't escape the prickle in my mind. Charlotte was a descendant of Millicent’s fellow witch Anne Oakley, just like Elizabeth and Louise. Could power flow through her veins from her ancestor, and why had she never mentioned it before?

  "Come and sit down, Charlotte. And start from wherever this story begins, so we might understand what happened." I patted the sofa next to me.

  Like a skittish animal, she approached and retreated a few times, before perching on the edge of the chesterfield. For a moment she sat in silence and then she began.

  "You left me all alone in that carriage last night, and all I could think of was what skill did I have to offer in this war? That got me to thinking about Anne Oakley and witches and how exactly one becomes a witch, and I desperately wanted to find something within me to help." Her worried gaze glanced up at David.

  "Go on, Charlotte. No one here thinks you are a bad person because of the blood in your veins. We all look to a person's actions, not their ancestry." He smiled. He really was a nice chap, and I was so glad a romance unfolded between the two of them.

  "You have to remember I was so worried about you all, I didn't want to sit unharmed as those creatures attacked you." She drew in a deep breath and fought an attack of sobs. "That was when I felt it, or found it. Here." Charlotte placed a hand over her chest and tapped her breastbone. "Something I never knew I had lost. Like a forgotten toy that lies in the shadows until it is discovered. It had waited for me to find it."

  Charlotte discovering untapped power inside herself and emerging as a good witch in this fight was simply too miraculous to believe. But I prayed it was true because we sorely needed a miracle.

  "What happened with the Turned on the roof of the carriage?" I asked her quietly, prodding her story along.

  "I heard the thud and thought it was you. I stood on the table and opened the hatch. I found the Turned stretched out, a hand edging toward me. It tried to moan from a disintegrated face. All I could think was how terrible its fate was and how I wished to free it from its torment." She paused and took a sip of coffee.

  "The warmth flowed through my veins. In my mind I remembered a book. It fell open at a certain page and I read the words written down. Then I looked at the Turned and whispered, 'I release you'. Its eyes cleared and it sighed, as though in relief." She looked to me, willing me to believe her.

  I still didn't understand what that had to do with souls. Had Charlotte somehow uttered a spell that killed vermin? That would be handy indeed. "What do you think happened to it?"

  "I believe I spoke a spell that released its soul from Millicent's control and allowed it to finally die and find peace." Charlotte's gaze fell to her hands while she waited for us to issue our judgement.

  I reached out and took her hand in mine. In a war of incredible, unbelievable events, what was one more?

  "There is a terrifying logic in Charlotte's words. Millicent is harvesting souls. Perhaps keeping them captive allows her to use their physical forms on this plane. When she has a sufficient number, she will be powerful enough to return here to reign over us all." Reverend Mason's eyes sparkled. Nothing like an ancient battle of good versus evil to reinforce your faith and undermine the science that said it was impossible.

  "We need time for Charlotte to explore her new power and to learn what she can do." I worried for her. The last few months had turned her life upside down, and while I marvelled at how she learned to adapt, I didn't want to risk forcing too much upon her.

  This time she squeezed my fingers. "Time is a luxury we don't have, Ella. If I can release their souls, it is a way we could strike back at Millicent and diminish her."

  I didn't like it one bit, throwing Charlotte into the fight when she was woefully unprepared. I racked my brain for how to deny her chance, when her gaze met mine.

  "Mother's foul blood runs in my veins. Let us put it to some use, and I will be the witch to your warrior."

  Everybody deserves a chance, and this was Charlotte's. "I have read fairy tales, and there are good witches. You have a good heart, Charlotte. You may be born of her, but you are not made by her."

  Charlotte laid a hand on my arm. "Let me do this, Ella. I know nothing of witchcraft, but I am learning my way around a kitchen. From what I experienced last night, I suspect casting a spell is much li
ke baking. You find your ingredients and follow the recipe."

  "Charlotte, welcome to our special branch of the Grim War. Your assistance will be invaluable. Now let's figure out how all these bits slot together. Reverend?" Seth redirected the conversation.

  Reverend Mason rose from his armchair and walked to the large book. He spoke as he crossed the room. "Millicent is controlling events from a place between life and death. An otherworldly realm we cannot see or sense. Crowley's pandemic has not yet created enough souls for her, and we therefore have a chance to stop her."

  "I can only deal with the corporeal, not the spiritual. I intend to break into the old cellars and see if her body was hidden down there," Seth said. "We need your guidance for the other side of things, Reverend."

  Mr Mason laid a large hand flat on the book. "You must understand witchcraft is not condoned by the church—rather the opposite—and they have been persecuted throughout history." He huffed a quiet laugh, not that burning witches was a laughing matter. "Some of us are more forward thinking and recognise a spiritual power can be used for good and to alleviate suffering."

  "Fight fire with fire," I muttered. "You think we can use a spell to counter Millicent's original spell. But how would that work when she is not here in our realm?"

  The last battle we fought took place underground in a surreal environment controlled by Elizabeth and crawling with vermin. Yet it was still here, in this place and time. How did you battle witchcraft from the comfort of the reverend's study? Was I to build a fort out of pillows and throw books? I could hear Seth exclaiming over the cruel treatment of novels already.

  Mr Mason picked up the enormous book and carried it back to the seating area. "There is a spell that, if worked correctly, will send you to the other realm."

  Seth ground his jaw. He didn't need to voice his objection—it oozed from him. "Ella doesn't fight alone."

  Reverend Mason took his seat, the book open in his lap. "No, she will not. I believe we should use Charlotte as her anchor in this world. You, your grace, are needed to find Millicent's physical form. I believe she must be defeated both there and here at the same time. You and Eleanor need to fight in unison."