The glow worm ceiling went dark as fires burned below. One by one, the tiny worms winked out, like stars retreating as dawn approached. We no longer needed their eerie blue light to see; bonfires throughout the cavern lit the way and gave the few remaining vermin nowhere to hide. Soldiers ferreted them out, beheaded, and dragged them to the pyres."We should look for smoke in the morning, see if this cavern vents anywhere," Seth said as we watched the fumes spiral up and obscure the roof."There's so much to do," I murmured. We had vermin to find and destroy, and the catacombs were calling to be explored. How deep did these tunnels go, and what did the veiled sections of honeycomb hide? There was another task I really didn't want to perform: telling Charlotte I had killed her mother and handed over her sister to be a captive freak in London."Tomorrow, Ella. There is nothing that cannot wait until tomorrow. I think right now we all deserve a hot bath, a meal, and a decent night's
PART THREE: Rory, the SleeperThis is the way the world endsNot with a bang but a whimper.The Hollow Men by T.S. ElliotI had so much to do. We defeated Elizabeth, but the Grim War still raged and a larger enemy loomed. How had the name of Millicent deMage whispered down through the centuries to reach Elizabeth's ears? Was there a link between the pandemic and the work of Aleister Crowley, as some newspaper articles speculated? I needed to identify those struck in the original pandemic who survived. A potential clue to defeating the vermin may linger in their recovery. I had to talk to the Commodore in Dorset to find any consistency in how hives behaved. I?Seth's lips brushed over the top of my ear and stalled my frantic thought processes. "Stop worrying for a few hours. Have a bath and get some sleep. We can tackle the mountain of work tomorrow."His quiet words were a pinprick to a balloon. In an instant the turmoil blew away. I slumped against him in the dark, with my arms
The next morning my brain refused to co-operate with my body's desire to sleep late. My body rose early from bed like one of Elizabeth's mindless vermin. I needed to tell Charlotte what occurred before she heard it as local gossip. I owed her that much for the tiny glimpses of humanity she showed me over the years."What are you doing?" Alice muttered from her narrow bed. She grabbed a pillow and held it over her face, fending off a feeble ray of early sun."I have to go see Charlotte before the village is afire with the news." I nudged Alice over with my knee and then sat on a sliver of space. I peeled away a corner of pillow and met her bleary, amber gaze. "Will you be all right on your own, or do you want me to send Magda up?"Alice reached out and clasped my hand in hers. "I'll be fine with a few more hours sleep. It's not dark anymore and the infernal noise has gone away."I was surprised her internment hadn't driven her insane. A hive?s low moan worked its way into your bones
On my first day at the manse, I learned it is possible to burn water, or at least the pot containing it. Ella, Alice, and Magda undertook the cooking and housework. Mother said aristocrats didn't dirty their hands with manual labour, and so we sat in the parlour, staring at the wallpaper. If mother was particularly mad at Ella, she sent me below stairs to issue demands. While I had observed some of the workings of the kitchen, I had no practical experience.From what I saw, I thought I understood the mechanics of cooking, but actually making a meal was akin to some arcane magical rite. A boiled egg involved a pot, water, and an egg. But how much water? How long did the egg have to remain immersed? Did it matter if I had a chicken egg or a larger duck egg? And how did you extract a boiling hot egg from the pot without dropping both on the floor? The exact process was a mystery, as though such knowledge passed from woman to child in hushed whispers those upstairs weren't supposed to ove
The War Office detained Seth in London, and I busied myself reading a background paper on Aleister Crowley. I think it said something about our foe that I preferred to read about the Satanist over the long dead witch. I had tried to immerse myself in Millicent's diaries, but reading her words made a reptilian shiver slither down my spine. Perhaps my battle with Elizabeth was too recent, or maybe it was my childish imagination at work, but I suspected Millicent might reach through the pages of the book and pull me into her world.I struggled through one of her diaries, but even the heady coffee couldn't keep me focused on her words. I tossed the book back on the pile and retreated. Once Seth returned we could regroup and tackle her together.In late afternoon the study doors opened, and I looked up as the duke strode into his domain."Seth!" I tossed the papers and ran to his open arms. Bain was on a mission to the manse, so we were alone in the study for once.Tired lines pulled at
Seth kissed me again, and that time I let the fire free. Desire consumed me as it flowed through my limbs. He was wearing entirely too much and my mind screamed for more. My fingers worked at his layers of clothing. First his jacket, then his waistcoat and shirt were all discarded on the floor. Finally I could lay my hands on his bare chest, where his heart beat under my touch. He was so warm, how could anyone think him cold?Seth undid the tie at my waist and his hand crept inside the robe and along my naked flesh. A small gasp left my throat as his fingers splayed over my back and he caressed my spine. There was almost nothing between us now.Yes, my mind whispered. I want all of him, against all of me.Holding me to him, he tugged the silk from my shoulders and it dropped from my body to pool on the floor. I was naked before him."Why Miss Jeffrey, do you always sleep naked?" he murmured, as his hands stroked my heated skin."Only when I have company." A moment of embarrassment
In my previous life I had never paid chickens much attention. Or even thought about them at all. I knew they were birds and the source of eggs. My knowledge stopped there. Now I found myself caretaker to a small flock of six hens and one puffed up rooster. There was a certain comfort in watching their busy scratching, chatting to each other like a group of older women. I learned to delight in the way they tilted their heads when you spoke to them. They became my friends, running when they heard me call here chicken, chicken, eager to peck the scraps of bread scattered at my feet.Bird brains sticking together, I heard Louise say.To further my education, I learned that a broody hen could deliver quite a sharp peck if you tried to slide a hand under to see what she was keeping warm. Today one hen hogged the end nesting box. The perverse little creatures had access to a multitude of spots to lay, but if one went broody the others all decided only that particular box would do. The trait
Millicent deMage clung to her secrets. Day by day we worked to dig them up but found only a snippet here or an oblique reference there. Despite what I had imagined, her diaries weren't full of witches?hexes, gory details of people she had ruined, or an outline of how to release an undead plague on the world. Each page was crammed with the boring description of daily life in Elizabethan England. Of interest to a historian, but I struggled to keep my eyes open.While merely conjuring her image still made me shudder, she was an enemy we needed to understand. The more I learned of her through her words, the less I feared her. At night, all the disjointed threads we chased spun through my mind. Like silvery strands from a spider's web, they seemed unrelated until you stood back and saw them woven together. Now I only needed to decipher what the pattern said.I closed the last diary and tossed it on a teetering stack. Seth was occupied on the telephone talking to the War Office and trying