Ella, The Slayer (13 page)

We trotted around the lanes to the edge of the village. Henry halted the horse and cart, and we climbed out the back. He touched his cap and gestured over his shoulder, meaning he would take care of the animal first and find us later. Magda waved us away and joined a group of her friends, off to look at the spinning and yarns on offer.

It was the first fete the village had held for years. Our lives had been on hold for the previous five years, when we all tightened our belts and growing oversized vegetables seemed irrelevant to the war effort. Then when our men returned, the pandemic struck, and the general mood plummeted as we double-locked our doors and slept with a weapon handy. With the reduced number of vermin sightings, hope returned with the summer heat. Rumours flew that London was now completely vermin free, with no sightings for at least two weeks. Although I knew that was not the case in the countryside.

In the bright sun, the green looked picturesque. Ancient trees lined the edge and spread their shade. Today the mown lawn was alive with chatter, laughter, and brightly coloured tents. A band played in the rotunda, and their happy music wafted and swirled on the air, bringing many a person to tap their toe as they stood to listen.

I remembered months earlier, when this was the dominion of death. A brown tent held the dead as the pandemic swept the countryside. The only noise was the wind through the skeletal trees and the sobs of families. Brittle, dried leaves blew over the ground as the grass was ground into mud beneath our feet. Bodies were sewn into unbleached shrouds and bagged, ready for either mass burial or collection, if the deceased had someone to fetch them and supervise the funeral. Most of us were too tired, worn down by the constant weight of death.

Alice shook my arm. "Penny for your thoughts?"

I smiled. "Nothing. Just wondering if Louise got her shoes on the right feet unassisted." It was too lovely a day to ruin with my maudlin thoughts.

Alice and I wandered the stalls, played toss-the-rings, and watched Henry smash the strength tester and win a prize. Who knew Henry had it in him? He picked a turquoise silk scarf as his prize, and presented it to me with a flourish.
Happy Birthday
, he mouthed. I kissed his cheek and wrapped the delicate scarf around my neck.

People smiled, chatted, and laughed. Children dodged around legs playing tag. The village came together, and I earned a few stray looks for being the only one carrying a weapon. Call me paranoid, but I'd rather have it and not need it, than need it and not have it.

A whisper shot through the crowd that the vegetable judging was under way and winners would be announced soon. We made our way to the heavy canvas marquee. By the mass of people inside, it looked like most of the village had turned out to gawk at our new duke. Alice and I stood on our tiptoes at the back, trying to see.

Rows of tables were draped in white linen cloths. Carefully arranged with military precision, and probably the use of rulers, rows of vegetables were proudly displayed on them. The growers stood behind their produce, chests puffed out and taunts thrown to the competition.

"Call that a carrot, Percy? No wonder your wife looks disappointed all the time."

Every variety of vegetable was on display, from the standard carrots, tomatoes, and potatoes, to the more exotic globe artichokes, brought back from Italy. The children entered their best efforts in the vegetable construction class and had made fantastical beasts and animals.

Frank materialised at Alice's side and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. "His grace has made it, though the anaconda may yet devour him alive."

I thought we were here to laugh at marrows, not reptiles. Then the crowd parted and I understood. Seth looked his usual dashing self in buff trousers, crisp cotton shirt, and a fitted waistcoat. And at his side, glaring at any women within a ten foot range, was Louise.

"She obviously managed to change clothes on her own," I whispered. My heart plummeted to my boots. Only two nights ago he had folded me in his arms and kissed me breathless. Now he stood with Louise as if she were his duchess already. Her breeding showed in her calm demeanour. Her nose lifted as she stayed aloof from the hoi polloi, yet she graced us with her presence at this event. She wore a pale linen walking suit that looked brand new. At this rate, we would be selling the silverware to pay the Harrods' bill when it arrived.

She stopped to say something as they examined the contenders. The height difference required him to lean down. There was an intimacy to the gesture that gripped my heart and squeezed.

"The marrows really are quite impressive," Alice whispered. "Which do you think will win?"

"The green and yellow striped one, second from the left," Frank said.

Alice and I stared at the vegetable in question. It didn't look that remarkable to me, but then my gaze kept drifting upward to the tanned and dark haired man running a strong hand over the mottled skin.

"Really? But it's not straight, it has a bend?" Alice's comment made me flush, and I had no idea why.

Frank pulled his sweetheart a little closer to his side, brushing her hair aside to whisper in her ear. "But it's the biggest one."

"Boys," Alice giggled and then hushed herself as the people in the crowd turned to stare at her, ruining the pivotal moment.

"Ella?" A voice called my name from somewhere near the back. "Is Ella here?"

I glanced around as bodies parted. Reverend Morton stood at the tent entrance. He wore a crumpled tweed suit, but at least he had attempted to shave. Badly, but he had shaved. He clutched a straw boater in his hands, but he clenched the item so hard he would never get the dents out. His gaze found mine. "We need your help."

Ice shot through my veins. I looked to Frank. "Keep Alice safe."

As I turned, Seth met my gaze. He frowned, a question lit in his grey eyes. What could I say? I could hardly yell out,
keep everyone occupied, vermin are on the green
.

I shook my head and left the tent.

Outside, the laughter and chatter dropped. Only the occasional bird call broke the silence despite the people milling around, as though even nature knew and drew away from her abandoned creatures.

"This way," Reverend Mason said and trotted on ahead.

We headed toward the cricket pitch. Women scurried the other way, dragging reluctant children. Boys, especially, just wanted to get a good look at it and maybe poke one with a stick. Men had used makeshift implements — rakes, brooms, and a croquet mallet — to keep the vermin in a rough enclosure.

"Oh, God." The words choked off in my throat.

There were two of them. I could handle two.

What I couldn't handle was that one was only a child.

Not quite ten years old, once blonde curls had tumbled around her shoulders. Now they were missing in patches, revealing bright pink circles of skull. She wore a blue smock with embroidered daisies across the front, just like my birthday cake. A mother had sat up into the night to stitch each flower into the fabric, something for her beloved child.

"Rose Linton," Reverend Mason said from my side. "She has a mother and two brothers. They live on an isolated farm about a two hour ride from the village, at the foot of the hills."

"Original or turned?" I asked the question, but the answer stood before me. The child was too well preserved to be over eight months dead. Apart from her torn hair, she looked too recent.

"She did not suffer the influenza," the vicar replied.

"The other?" The little girl was accompanied by an older man in a far worse state. His clothing was soiled and torn. One eye ball dangled from the socket. I wondered how he saw. Given they were dead, how did messages make their way around their bodies? What physically compelled them to seek us out and not slumber in the earth? Or were they truly possessed by demons who used them as shells?

"I do not recognise him. He could be a sufferer of the original pandemic, but he doesn't match any of the outstanding males."

Outstanding males
. We tracked them, we had to. It gave us some way to estimate how many attacks we could expect. Every person who died in the first wave was written in my notebook and if or when they returned, I crossed them off. Once I had dispatched them back to wherever they were supposed to have gone originally.

I drew my sword and the metal sang a sweet song. The larger vermin was the more imminent problem. It took five men to hold it at bay as it snarled and lashed out. Thankfully, the men all knew to keep their distance from the grasping claws. All it took was a single cut or bite to transfer the infection that kept its dead body upright. This was at least the semblance of a fair fight. I pushed away the image of the child. I would deal with the smaller vermin once this one was laying in two pieces on the lush lawn.

"Keep the small one away while I deal with this one," I said as I retied the silk handkerchief Henry gave me so it covered the lower half of my face. Then I entered the circle of men, and they closed ranks behind me. The vermin sniffed the air and turned toward me. It raised its chin as though peering down its rotted nasal cavity at me. Through the chewed out gristle, I saw a pink glint from its pulsing brain.

"A little closer," I muttered, waiting, my blade held poised by my shoulder.

It growled and lunged. As it leapt at me, I swept out my foot to deliver a low kick, and ducked below its outreached arms. Generally speaking, I didn't like to touch them, but with so many men around I wanted this one on the ground to minimise splatter. The vermin lost what little balance it had, hitting the grass as I spun. I rose behind it and my blade sang as I struck. Its head rolled away and came to rest next to a tuft of grass. One blow, just the way I preferred it.

"See if you can find anything on the body to identify who he was," I said as I left their circle and moved to the next.

"Is it supposed to do that?" one man asked, pointing at the twitching body. Its fingers were ripping up chunks of grass.

I glanced at what I considered a normal sight. "They take a minute or two to stop. Just watch that you don't get too close until it stills."

He gulped. Another man paled before turning to throw up over his shoes.

Dispatched vermin often spark a reaction in the others. Perhaps they sense death finally reaching for them. The small one growled and yipped. Little teeth gnashed as she lunged at her captors, arms flailing as they repelled her with hoes and crooks. They exchanged uneasy glances, as though not quite believing she was dead; perhaps she was just sick and feverish? Perhaps she just needed to be put to bed and tended to, until the fever passed. This was why they looked at me with fear and revulsion, and why I bore their burden. What if the vermin weren't really dead? What sort of person could behead innocent children, women, and the elderly?

Me.

As she spun in her pen, her blonde hair twirled around her and covered the bald spots. It — I told myself. It, not she. Except I couldn't stop my gaze from seeing those perky daisies on her dress. She's just a child. A girl who probably climbed trees, stuffed yellow ducklings in her apron pocket, and tormented her older brothers. A child with a mother who might be searching the fields, calling her daughter's name.

A hand wrapped around mine and took the sword from my loose fingers.

"I've got this one," Seth said.

I did something I haven't done once since the very beginning. I turned my back on a vermin.

The snarling ended on a sharp note as the blade sang and silence fell. Still, I kept my gaze fixed on the tent with red, blue, and yellow flags tied to the guide lines.

"We need to investigate the cottage they came from," Seth spoke from behind. "I'll take Ella to Serenity House in the motor, then we'll move to horses for the ride out. Frank, pick three other men and meet us back there."

A warm, living hand settled in the small of my back and guided me across the green to the parked motorcar.

Chapter Thirteen

I sat in the gorgeous Rolls Royce and ran a finger along the polished wood of the door panel. Smoke rose up from behind the trees, as back at the green, men threw the bodies on a pyre. The fete usually closed with a large bonfire, they just didn't normally use it to dispose of slain vermin.

The motor roared into life and we shot along the road. We killed her. A child. A small bundle of hope and promise, and my sword had only moments ago separated her body from her head. I frowned when just five minutes later, Seth pulled off the road in the shades of the trees. He jumped out and came to my side.

"Come here," he said, taking my hand and pulling me from the motor.

Before I could say a word he wrapped his arms around me. I pressed my face to his shirt. Clever man, he knew exactly what my soul needed. He stroked my back with a large hand.

"Let it out, Ella, no one will see here," he whispered.

"She was just a child," I whispered before the tears began to fall. First I had turned my back on a vermin, and now I burst into tears. It had been quite an unusual day. The sobs racked my body as my tears soaked his shirt. He never said a word, nor did he try to hush me, he just stroked my hair as he held me.

I don't know how long it took while I cried out all the pain of the last nine months. Eventually, I gathered enough control to stop the flow of tears, or perhaps I simply exhausted the supply. My sobs managed to turn into hiccups.