The Vengeance of Snails (Penny White Book 4)

by Chrys Cymri

  ‘Precisely. God is great, not a flying snail shark.’

  ‘Arweinydd mawr,’ Clyde reminded me.

  ‘Lemmings might call you “Great Leader”, but don’t expect that from anyone else.’

  I parked next to Peter’s Volvo, slid from the driver’s seat, and walked around to lift Clyde free. As I placed him into his carry case, the lemmings swooped low. To my surprise, they only hovered for a moment, squeaking to each other, before their gossamer wings strummed against the breeze to pull them back into the sky.

  ‘Gone,’ Clyde commented, his body sliding through shades of brown and grey.

  ‘You have plenty more of them at home.’ Then I saw Sarah striding towards us, and I quickly pretended to be talking to my car. ‘Well done, old thing. I promise to give you some more oil when we get home.’ I turned to give the wedding co-ordinator my most brilliant and utterly sane smile, hoping to convince her that I wasn’t some madwoman who regularly talked to motor vehicles.

  ‘Just like the Doctor,’ the tall woman said as she stopped beside me. ‘Don’t you just love the way he talks to the TARDIS?’

  My smile broadened to a grin. ‘Do you know any cake decorators who can do a Doctor Who theme?’

  ‘Certainly. Let’s talk that over while I show you around the marquee.’

  As we walked past some hay bales, I thought I saw a flash of snail. But as I dropped back, pretending to tighten a shoelace, a closer look showed the shadows to be empty. So I turned my thoughts away from snail sharks to the much more pleasant topic of my wedding day.

  Chapter Seven

  Nenehampton Cathedral never failed to impress me whenever I pushed open the etched glass doors to step inside. I paused for a moment, taking in the large baptismal font, and the sweep of stone floor and wooden chairs leading up to the ornately carved choir stalls. Sunlight was streaming in through the stained-glass windows, spreading colour across the tall marble columns. The welcomer on duty gave me a nod, her eyes drifting down to the white plastic gleaming at my throat. I self-consciously pulled at the material of my black shirt.

  Morey landed on my shoulder a moment later. A white cowl rested around his neck, his equivalent of my dog collar. I tried not to think of what his sharp claws were doing to my best suit jacket.

  ‘Good morning, Penny.’ Angelica emerged from the gift shop. ‘I see you’re not alone.’

  ‘Good to see you, Mrs Dean,’ Morey said, dipping his head. ‘I hope all is well in the cathedral?’

  Conscious of the verger’s eyes, I added, ‘Thank you for making time to show me around.’

  ‘Always pleased to help.’ Angelica led the way up the nave, along the south transept, and to the eastern end. ‘I’ve arranged for the new building to be roped off until this afternoon. I hope that gives you long enough in Llanbedr?’

  ‘I hope so too.’ The new build was a mere five hundred years old, but the walls blended in with the much older ones nearby. Angelica let us through the rope barrier. A metal fence stretched across one corner.

  The Dean unlocked the wide gate. ‘Just to the right of the heater.’

  ‘I remember.’ I walked past the black cylinder.

  The cathedral held the only land-based thin place I’d come across which radiated warmth rather than dread and darkness. A peace surrounded me as I walked into Eglwys Gadeiriol Llanbedr. Morey’s sigh was soft against my ear, and I felt his body relax.

  The choir stalls of another cathedral rose on either side of me. I walked over to touch the light wood. The high altar was dressed in the purple of Lent. There was no sunlight here to touch the stained-glass window set high in the stone wall above, but I still smiled at the depiction of Jesus as the Good Shepherd, a lamb in his arms and a small dragon resting around his neck. Then I felt my face slide into a frown. A long crack ran across the image, marring both man and sheep. Had someone dared to throw a rock at the cathedral?

  A unicorn, wearing a blue and gold cloth draped over his back, stood at the entrance to the choir area. I cleared my throat. ‘Hello, I’ve just crossed over.’

  The unicorn swung his head towards me. ‘Greetings, Father Penny. Father Aldred is waiting for you outside.’

  ‘The Bishop’s chaplain?’ Morey sounded impressed. ‘I didn’t expect him to come.’

  ‘He’s given me lifts before.’ The cathedral had wooden doors, rather than glass ones, so I had no warning about the rain I’d find falling outside. I stared in dismay as I hovered just within the entrance.

  ‘He’s not come to give you a lift,’ Morey said as we watched the yellow dragon make his way through the downpour. ‘The Bishop’s palace is only around the corner.’

  ‘Father Penny, Father Trahaearneifion,’ Aldred greeted us as he stopped a few feet away. Water splashed from his scales and ran down his sides. ‘May I escort you to Bishop Aeron?’

  One long wing, tinged orange, lifted from his back. Aldred turned, and I realised that the dragon was offering to be a walking umbrella. Both slightly amused and somewhat embarrassed, I hurried into place underneath the stretch of skin.

  Not even a dragon could do anything about the puddles which had gathered in the gaps between cobblestones. Despite my best efforts, my shoes still splashed into cold water, and I could feel moisture seeping through leather and socks to my skin.

  The efforts to keep dry had kept me from paying attention to the buildings which we passed. But as Aldred halted, I peered from under his wing to see tall double doors set into a high archway. A small portion of the left-hand door had been replaced with a window, and a squirrel blinked at us from a shelf set into the other side. A moment later, she had disappeared.

  ‘Glynda will let the Bishop’s assistant know we’re here,’ Aldred explained.

  A moment later, the two doors swung inwards. A tall vampire waited inside, her short hair nearly as black as her clerical shirt. ‘Bishop Aeron gives you welcome,’ she said. ‘Father Aldred, shall I send for some towels?’

  ‘I’m not attending this meeting, Aures,’ the dragon said. ‘I’ll return to my own house and dry off there.’

  I slipped inside, my shoes squelching against the white tiled floor. The house was noticeably warmer than the wet day outside. Aures closed the doors, and the squirrel leapt up to her wooden perch. I squinted, looking for the shimmer which I usually saw around weres. But the squirrel appeared to be only that, a real squirrel, dark red with a patch of white at her throat.

  ‘This way, please,’ Aures said. I followed her through the large entrance hall. Paintings of past bishops glowered down from the white walls. I noted a number of dragons, several unicorns, two vampires, and one angry looking gryphon. There was a noticeable lack of furniture, but then, what sort of furniture would a dragon need?

  Bishop Aeron was waiting for us in a large reception room. A purple cowl rested around her orange-red neck, and a gold Celtic cross gleamed against her chest. Her head was turned to listen to the unicorn on her left, whom I recognised as the Archdeacon of Ocheham. The unicorn’s black cowl was a dark contrast to her grey-white hide.

  My feet dragged against the thick carpet as I saw who was sitting in the two armchairs set near the tall windows. Cadfan and Aislin, the two churchwardens of Caer-grawnt. Both the elf and the harpy looked equally unhappy, Cadfan’s face drawn into a long frown, and Aislin’s arm-wings waving agitatedly.

  ‘Father Penny, Father Trahaearneifion, good to see you.’ Bishop Aeron was twice the size of a horse, but she moved easily enough through the room to greet us. ‘You have had a good journey, I trust?’

  ‘Thank you for sending your chaplain as escort,’ I said. ‘It’s very wet outside.’

  ‘I would have come to meet you myself.’ Her long head turned back to look at the churchwardens. ‘But I was detained by Caer-grawnt parish. Or, perhaps I should say, by those who think that they represent the parish.’

  Cadfan sunk further into his chair. But Aislin straightened. ‘We’re the elected churchwardens for St George’s,’ she
protested. ‘The congregation chose us to represent them.’

  ‘Would you like to have a seat?’ the Bishop asked, her horns pointing at two chairs which were set, thankfully, several feet away from the churchwardens. Morey hopped down into one, and I took the other. I crossed my arms over my chest to hide the slight tremble in my hands.

  ‘Before you arrived,’ the Archdeacon said, her voice a low rumble, ‘we were discussing your dismissal from St George’s.’

  I began, ‘I’m so--’ A sharp noise from Morey halted my apology. The feathers along his neck were ruffled, and his ears tilted forward. I decided to trust his correction. ‘What have you decided?’

  ‘Nothing has been decided yet,’ Bishop Aeron said. ‘I have yet to hear a good reason for your dismissal.’

  ‘She insulted our patron,’ Aislin retorted. Her long skirt hid most of her bird legs, but her talons gripped the dark carpet. ‘We needed to protect his reputation.’

  ‘The only reputation you should be defending,’ said the Archdeacon, ‘is that of our Lord.’

  The Bishop snorted. ‘Our Lord needs no defending.’

  ‘Then neither do mere patrons,’ the Archdeacon continued.

  ‘Lord Willis has done so much for our town, and our church,’ Cadfan said. ‘It’s only right that his rector shows loyalty in return.’

  ‘But Father Penny is not his rector.’ Bishop Aeron’s ears and horns were lying flat against her skull, but her voice was still mild. ‘She was appointed by me, your bishop, and installed by your archdeacon. She’s answerable to God, not to Lord Willis.’

  ‘A rector shouldn’t dabble in politics,’ Cadfan said. ‘Politics has nothing to do with our Christian faith.’

  ‘Of course it does,’ I retorted. ‘One of our human bishops, Desmond Tutu, says, “I’m puzzled by which Bible people are reading when they suggest that religion and politics don’t mix.” Jesus was killed for challenging the leaders of his day.’

  Aislin dismissed me with a flap of her arm-wings. ‘Lord Willis wouldn’t want a rector who dares to criticise him, particularly from the pulpit.’

  The Bishop looked down at her. ‘Are you certain? Have you asked him?’

  Cadfan stood up, bringing his eyes level with the dragon’s. ‘We would never dream of wasting Lord Willis’s valuable time.’

  ‘Is that true, Willis?’ Bishop Aeron called out. ‘Is your time too valuable to talk about the parish’s acting rector?’

  ‘Certainly not.’ Hooves brushed against carpet as Lord Willis strode into the room. Aislin leapt to her feet, her face mottling into shades of red and white. Cadfan bent his head in a crisp nod. I forced myself to remain seated.

  Lord Willis stopped beside the Archdeacon, bringing him close to my chair. I could have touched the tense muscles of his neck. A mixed scent of oil and smoke made me wonder if he’d been visiting one of his factories. His brown eyes roved around the room, finally resting on the two churchwardens. ‘My apologies, I couldn’t arrive any sooner. What have I missed?’

  ‘We were discussing Father Penny’s dismissal from the parish.’ The Archdeacon’s tone was mild, but her tail slapped against her flanks. The twist in her ears and the curl in her lip told me how she felt about the unicorn standing near her.

  Lord Willis turned his attention to me. ‘I visited the school yesterday. The children enjoyed your assembly. When will you return?’

  Bishop and Archdeacon remained silent. So I cleared my throat. ‘I understood that the church members wanted me to leave.’

  ‘Why would they want that?’

  ‘Because of a sermon I preached.’ My fingers curled into my palms. ‘About the child labour in your factories.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t the young be permitted to work?’ The golden chain around his neck clinked as he raised his head to look at the Bishop. ‘Perhaps I should attend church more often. Sounds like I missed an interesting sermon.’

  ‘She insulted you,’ Aislin snapped. ‘That was her sermon.’

  ‘Father Penny had a tour of my businesses,’ the unicorn mused. ‘She said nothing to me afterwards. I wonder why? Is it because I’m a unicorn?’

  Every eye came to me, waiting for my response. I took a deep breath. ‘Would you have listened?’

  ‘I don’t know. You never asked for my ear.’

  Morey moved slightly, and I glanced at him. His neck feathers rose, then smoothed, and he cocked his head. I gave him a quick nod. Message received. So, although it hurt my teeth to do so, I said to the unicorn, ‘I’m sorry. I should have come to you first.’

  ‘We’ll have much time to discuss my factories, once you’ve returned to Caer-grawnt. If the Bishop agrees?’

  ‘She still holds my licence,’ Bishop Aeron said. ‘As far as I’m concerned, Father Penny is the acting rector of St George’s.’

  The two churchwardens sank into their chairs. Aislin found her voice first. ‘Lord Willis, I’m not sure how the church members will feel about that.’

  Morey was staring at me with one red-brown eye. The look was a mixture of encouragement and challenge. ‘I didn’t go into ministry to be liked,’ I said with a confidence I didn’t entirely feel. ‘I became a priest in order to serve God in his church. He called me to Caer-grawnt, and so that’s where I belong.’

  ‘The people are very loyal to Lord Willis,’ Cadfan said. ‘They were quite upset on his behalf.’

  ‘Then I must show them that I approve of Father Penny.’ Lord Willis turned to look at me. The light from the oil lamps slid down his horn, adding a hint of yellow to the twisted silver. ‘She’ll come to live with me.’

  ‘But, Lord Willis!’ Aislin was back on her feet. ‘Lord Willis, you don’t know about humans. You wouldn’t want one under your roof.’

  This was too much. ‘Why not?’ I retorted. ‘I’m housetrained.’

  ‘Lord Willis,’ Cadfan said, his voice strained. ‘Humans--I’m sorry to speak of this. But humans, well, they defecate inside.’

  ‘As do many dwarfs, and even some vampires,’ the unicorn said. ‘I’ll arrange for the necessary plumbing.’

  ‘What about my curate?’ I asked, glancing over at Morey. ‘He lives with me. And he and his wife have a clutch of eggs.’

  ‘Do you indeed, Father Trahaearneifion?’ Bishop Aeron sounded genuinely pleased. ‘My congratulations. Send me a rat when they have hatched.’

  Morey gave the Bishop a nod. ‘Would Lord Willis welcome a family of gryphons? Our eyasses will stay with us for a season before joining the clan.’

  ‘It’s been a long time since children have lived in my house.’ There was a note of wistfulness in Lord Willis’ voice. ‘You would all be very welcome.’

  ‘So we need only discuss the date of the return,’ the Archdeacon said crisply. ‘Bishop?’

  Bishop Aeron finally sat down. ‘I should think the timing depends on the hatching of Father Trahaearneifion and Inspector Taryn’s eggs.’

  ‘Another fortnight,’ Morey said. ‘And then a few days for them to get a few meals down. So say three weeks, then we can return to Caer-grawnt.’

  ‘That takes us past Easter,’ the Bishop noted. ‘I wonder what arrangements the churchwardens have made for service cover?’

  Cadfan and Aislin glanced at each other. The elf said, ‘We thought the rural dean would make sure we had a priest.’

  ‘You have a priest,’ Bishop Aeron said. ‘And she will be back. But not until the third Sunday after Easter. I’ll leave you to find someone for Sundays.’

  ‘Surely Easter is a special case,’ Lord Willis said to the Bishop. ‘The parish can manage with Mattins on other Sundays. But not Easter.’

  ‘And the Easter Vigil,’ Cadfan added. ‘It’s one of our best attended services.’

  ‘I could come back,’ I said, wondering whether Raven would be willing to give me regular lifts. Until the eggs hatched, I wanted to be around for Morey and Taryn.

  ‘That’s very kind of you, Father Penny.’ Bishop Aeron’s ears twitched, a
nd there was a moment of respectful silence as we all watched her think. ‘Father Penny, Father Trahaearneifion, would you be willing to officiate at the Easter Vigil?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said after a quick look at Morey.

  ‘And I will officiate on Easter Sunday.’ Bishop Aeron glowered at the churchwardens. ‘I always leave that date free to visit parishes which are causing particular difficulties.’

  Having a bishop on your side wasn’t always a good thing. ‘With the support of their patron, Lord Willis,’ I said, ‘I’m certain the parish will pull together. I’m looking forward to working with the churchwardens once again.’

  The Archdeacon gave a soft snort. The Bishop stared at me for a moment, her eyes narrowed. Then her horns and ears swivelled in my direction. ‘Well spoken, Father Penny. Caer-grawnt will benefit from your return.’ A quick glance showed that she included Morey in her comment.

  ‘Then we’re in agreement,’ Lord Willis said. The muscles along his neck were tense, and I realised he hadn’t relaxed throughout the meeting. ‘I’ll make the necessary adjustments to the mansion’s west wing. Father Penny, perhaps you could send me a rat with your requirements? Furniture, diet, ambient temperature? Father Trahaearneifion, shall I arrange for suitable prey to be stocked in the gardens?’

  ‘That’s very generous of you, Lord Willis,’ Morey said. ‘Small rodents are best. The eyasses only hunt flighted prey in earnest after they’ve fledged.’

  ‘I’ll make the necessary arrangements.’ The unicorn tipped his head in the barest of nods. ‘Bishop, Archdeacon, I can see that the church is governed by good leadership. Aislin, Cadfan, the dragons who brought me here can easily offer room on their backs. If you have finished your business here.’

  Morey leaned close to me. ‘It takes two tacsi dragons to transport a unicorn. They each hold one end of a sling.’

  The churchwardens took polite leave of the Bishop. ‘That sounds uncomfortable,’ I whispered back.

  ‘I should think it is. But a unicorn can’t ride on a dragon’s back.’

  The churchwardens left with their patron. The door shut quietly behind them. Then the Archdeacon said, ‘Lord. Willis.’ Title and name were spat out with equal disgust.