Bloody Good

by Georgia Evans

  “I know what you deny, child.” She turned to Peter. “Mr. Watson, first, let me set your mind at rest about Howell Pendragon. He is not a vampire. But I think we need to talk to him. And soon. At least once Alice gets her hair dry. Is he home?”

  “He was when I left to come up here, but he was going down to the village hall to meet Sir James Gregory, something to do with supplies for the Home Guard.”

  “I’ll call him there. Ask him to come up later. Lunchtime.”

  He was going to have to wait until lunchtime to find out what was going on?

  “Gran…” Alice began but was hushed fast.

  “Now you listen to me, my love. Something is here and it means us ill. Howell can help, you wait and see. Now finish your breakfast and get on with your rounds. We’ll all meet back here at one. And you, Mr. Watson, get on with what you need to do. It’s daylight, so I don’t think we need to worry.”

  This was getting more and more like a Saturday morning horror film, only he was living in the middle of it.

  “Give Peter another cup, Gran. I’ll get ready.”

  Mrs. Burrows couldn’t miss the “Peter” and she didn’t.

  “I see. Would you like another cup, Peter?”

  “Thanks, but I’d better get going. I should be down at the school. Since I’m here, can I have some prescriptions for the children who’ll need more shampoo?”

  “Send them to Mother Longhurst, she’ll give them rosemary lotion, works just as well.”

  “I’ll get you the prescriptions,” Alice said. “I’ll be back in half a mo.”

  “Is she related to the farmer Tom Longhurst?”

  “His great aunt. She was his grandfather’s sister. Lots of Longhursts around here. Seems everyone in the village is related.”

  “Just like at home.” He thrust away the stab of homesickness. Devon definitely had its advantages, like no hideous presences swooping out of the night when you were walking home of an evening. Mind you, Devon didn’t have Alice. Weighing it up, he’d take her and the dark looming shapes and the enigmatic Sergeant Howell Pendragon.

  “Here you are.”

  Alice was back, a bundle of prescription forms in her hand. “Just let me know who gets them. Gloria always keeps track.” She paused. “Come outside.”

  Who’d refuse that invitation? Even if the front door and his bicycle were in full view of any passersby.

  “This is insane,” she said.

  He agreed. “I didn’t imagine it, Alice, and I wasn’t drunk, I swear.”

  She shook her head and smiled. “Peter, I didn’t mean that! I meant what I’m feeling. For two pins I’d drag you upstairs and keep you there all morning.”

  “I wish I had two pins.”

  “It’s insane. I barely know you.”

  “I think we know each other pretty well.” He was, no doubt, smirking, but what the blazes was a man supposed to say and think?

  “Peter.”

  “Yes?”

  “Go and take care of the nits and lice.”

  What a farewell. “Alright, head lice here I come.”

  “Come back early, if you can. I’ll be here.”

  “So will I.”

  And dammit, no one was passing and if they were, it was none of their bloody business. He reached for her, held her close, planted his lips on hers, and gave her a full body contact kiss.

  Now, he was as good as drunk! And it felt wonderful. Until he mounted his bicycle and had to ride downhill.

  Eiche stirred on Jeff Williams’s narrow bed. The blackout worked equally well to ensure him an uninterrupted daysleep and the rest he needed desperately after the attack last night. As he lay in pain and darkness, revenge burned in his mind like the fire that had seared his skin.

  What had gone wrong? And exactly when?

  All had been as planned until Williams made that ridiculous insult toward the new medical personage. So the fool was a conscientious objector. In Germany he’d have been in a camp. Here they let him minister to the sick. Eiche hoped he killed a few with incompetence.

  But damn the fool Williams drawing attention that way and getting them thrown out of the miserable hostelry. He’d taken Williams back to their shared lodgings and fed rather adequately. The mortal still slumbered in the pile of blankets in the corner.

  In the rush of strength from feeding, Eiche had planned a simple straightforward revenge, nothing permanent, just enough terror to have the two self-satisfied mortals shit in their clothes. Instead a presence with scalding fire attacked him.

  It was unthinkable and intolerable, and something he should warn the others about, but to do so would be to admit his own weakness in succumbing to the attack.

  No, better to bide his time, rest in the dark, and heal. Soon he’d be full strength again and then he would take care of his assignment.

  There would be a terrible accident and the camp destroyed with a delightedly tragic loss of life. Sunday he’d report his success to the others and then let Weiss dare censure him.

  It would happen on Friday.

  Whether he’d let Williams survive or not was a moot point. Preferably not, he decided. After all, the man knew far too much.

  If he muttered something about vampires in one of his drunken stupors, some fool yokel might actually believe him.

  Chapter 26

  “So, young Peter’s worried about what happened last night.”

  He’s forgive the sergeant the “young” bit. “Not just last night. Alice and I have been talking. There’s been a series of odd events, culminating last night in something out of a nightmare.”

  “You never mentioned it at the time.”

  “You weren’t there when we got in and when we did see you, you were injured.” Damn, it sounded like an accusation. Not what he’d intended. He looked at Alice across the table and her grandmother sitting next to Pendragon watching him with an odd, almost expectant look on her face. “Besides, it was so fantastic, I think we both half believed we’d imagined it.”

  “Maybe you did.”

  “No. No more than I imagined you had a great gash in your forehead.”

  “A gash?” he asked, pushing the hair off his forehead. Even the bruise from this morning had faded. “What gash?”

  “We can ask Mr. Arckle. He saw you were hurt. And he was with me in the lane.” After Alice and Mrs. Burrows’ ready acceptance, the sergeant’s attitude was nothing short of deliberate obfuscation. Why?

  “Mr. Arckle went back to London with his boys.”

  “What? He can’t have yet.”

  “He did, Peter,” Alice said. “I talked to the hospital this morning. They discharged Dave. Mr. Arckle came back and picked up Sid and they all were put on a train about noon. I’m not sure he’s wise taking them back to town, but we’re hardly safe from bombs here. Seems he wants his sons with him.”

  And was as terrified last night as Peter had been. Lucky man had London to run away to.

  So bang went the only other witness to what did or did not happen last night. Peter shook his head. This wasn’t getting anywhere.

  “I know what Peter just said sounds ridiculous, and I’d be inclined to agree if I hadn’t seen what I saw last week. That seems to have been the beginning of the odd things.”

  She gave a concise but pretty complete account of it all. Mrs. Burrows underscoring the lack of a living aura, which she’d initially put down to his seemingly terrible injuries.

  “And his injuries, at first, were odd. Great splinters deep in the flesh of his arm and side, as if he’d impaled himself on a tree and it so happens that up in Fletcher’s Woods, where I found him, a massive oak tree has the top half broken off.

  “But that’s only the beginning,” Alice went on. “We have the death of Farmer Morgan in rather strange circumstances, and the weak condition of his prize sow, cows on the local farms appearing wasted.”

  “Don’t forget Susie,” Mrs. Burrows added. “We found her dead the same evening. Didn’t make too m
uch note of it at the time as she was an old dog, but seems she was the first animal in the village to die mysteriously.”

  “What’s all this leading up to?” Pendragon asked.

  “Alice and Mrs. Burrows think there may be a vampire in the village. This man who disappeared might be one.” Peter scarcely believed he’d actually said that.

  Pendragon laughed. “Really?”

  “Why not?” Mrs. Burrows asked. “That one had no aura; I said so at the time.”

  “We thought maybe you could help us,” Peter said.

  “You think I’m a vampire?”

  “No, you stupid old twerp!” Mrs. Burrows all but yelled. “It’s time to tell them!”

  “It is, is it, Pixie?”

  Peter knew then and there he’d slipped a couple of cogs.

  “Yes, it is! We need your help. Alice and I can’t do it alone, and Peter with the best will in the world is only human. We need you. Do something in return for all the years you’ve lived among us.”

  The sergeant stood, leaning his strong hands on the scrubbed table top. “Been breaking a confidence, old Pixie!”

  “No, I have not! It’s for you to tell them!”

  “Is it?” He looked at Alice and Peter. “Very well, then. I’m Dragon.”

  Alice let out a nervous laugh. “A Dragon!” She as good as spluttered.

  It was not the right thing to do.

  “Not a Dragon, little Pixie!” he repeated in a roar loud enough to rattle the plates on the dresser. “I am the Pendragon!”

  He threw back his head and his face reddened as if holding his breath, the air around him moved and formed into runnels that covered his arms and chest. He let out another wordless roar and his cuff buttons burst, his arms wobbled and moved within his sleeves, his fingernails lengthened into claws, then vast talons, and his hands appeared reptilian and the skin turned gray and rough.

  Peter fought back the shock but couldn’t stop watching. What he was witnessing was impossible and happening right before his eyes.

  As he watched, it seemed Pendragon exhaled and in moments the skin changed, hands and arms resumed normal shape, and the sergeant sat down in his chair with a thud.

  “You’re truly a Dragon,” Alice said.

  Peter kept his thoughts to himself. If he was going to share a roof with a Dragon, mum was the word.

  “Well, I’m not the plastic wind-up sort,” the sergeant said.

  “So now you all know my secret and if one of you mentions it to a soul they’ll laugh you out of the village.”

  “Why the dickens would we mention it?” Mrs. Burrows asked. “We need your help. You think I’d stand in front of the post office and announce, ‘I’m Pixie!’ They’d take me away.”

  “Do you change often? Completely?” Alice asked.

  He shook his head. “I used to. Box Hill at night was a grand place to roam. I used to chuckle over the accounts of UFOs up there, but nowadays it’s too risky to show that sort of light.”

  “You shifted last night!” Peter hadn’t meant to say it but somehow it came out.

  To silence.

  Alice met his eyes and nodded.

  “Last night, Sergeant. In the lane, it was you, wasn’t it?”

  Another long quiet.

  He nodded. “It was. I’d gone out to get coke for the stove, just as I said, pulled on my boots without lacing them, and nipped out. Almost had the hod full when I sensed it: evil malevolence, horror, you name it, it was there. I was tempted to turn around and bolt the door against it, but remembered the old blood oath. I left the hod on the path, took off my clothes and shifted. I found it, and you two, at the corner of the lane and went for it.

  “What it was I don’t rightly know. It had claws and teeth and it took dragonfire to beat it. It went running then, just as you two did. I followed you home, shifted back behind the toolshed, and yanked on my clothes as fast as I could. Forgot my damn boots but got myself inside. Where you did your Florence Nightingale act.”

  “You were hurt.”

  “One of the thing’s claws got me. But we heal fast.”

  So he’d noticed. “Let me get this straight. I’m sitting here with a Pixie and a Dragon?”

  “Two Pixies,” Alice said, reaching for his hand.

  Talk about being surrounded, but her clasp was warm and, dammit, he loved her. Whatever she was. “Two Pixies and a Dragon.”

  “That’s right,” Mrs. Burrows said.

  “Think you can cope, lad?” Pendragon asked.

  “I have absolutely no idea.”

  “You can.” Alice’s confidence was reassuring. He thought.

  “Alright then, I’ll cope. After all, I’m not the one with an alternate personality.”

  “More’s the pity,” Mrs. Burrows said. “We could use a gremlin or a nice gryphon.”

  “Or a troll,” Pendragon added.

  “Lay off him!” Alice snapped. “This is a lot for me. Peter must be out of his depth!”

  More like sinking fast. “I’m sure it will make sense in a while.”

  “Before then, lad, these women will have you swimming against the tides. Next thing you know we’ll be hunting a vampire.”

  Peter had rather gathered that was the entire point but decided to keep quiet. He was way out of his depth here.

  He should have stayed in Pentonville where all he had to deal with were crooks, felons, and fellow COs. Except then he’d never have found Alice.

  Who was Pixie.

  “I think we all need a fresh cup of tea.” Mrs. Burrows stood and crossed the kitchen. “Alice, get the brandy. The sergeant needs a boost.”

  Peter was glad to see she added a tot to every cup. Pendragon wasn’t the only one needing fortifying. “One other thing,” Alice said as she put the stopper back in the decanter. “When I was in the hospital this morning I learned they arrested Miss Waite. Seems when they were putting a tarpaulin over her damaged roof they found a hidden wireless in the loft. Used apparently to send and receive messages from Germany. She’s been arrested as a spy.”

  Chapter 27

  “He is injured.”

  “Who?” Zuerst demanded.

  “Eiche,” Bela replied. Wasn’t he the one they’d told her to connect to whenever she was awake? They didn’t trust him. With good reason. Who in their right mind trusted a vampire? These servants of the Reich were so deluding themselves. Just as they’d deluded her. Once.

  “How do you know this?” Zweiten asked, his voice cruelly quiet. His eyes hard and cold.

  Did he think she was lying? She held back the smile. Fairies had difficulty lying. Concealing the truth, yes. Withholding truth, yes, but lying was alien to them. “Last night. He attacked.” The venom and menace had stung her like a swarm of incensed bees. “And was attacked back.”

  “Who could attack a vampire?” Zweiten said to Zuerst. “Who would so dare?”

  He turned his hard eyes on Bela. “You know?” It was almost an accusation.

  “It was an attack with fire.” She would not say that she sensed a very powerful Other. That would result in more interrogation and she wished to preserve the strength she had. The attack to Eiche had drained her, but the others had fed and restored her. “He was burned.”

  “Some superstitious peasant,” Zweiten said.

  “How can that be? He was told not to reveal himself. Yet,” Zuerst mattered.

  “He has killed. Maybe he was discovered.”

  Zuerst nodded, paused, frowning to himself, then glared at Bela. “Can’t you communicate with words? Send him a a message?”

  He knew the answer to that. Was he dreaming? Wishing? “That I cannot do. I know when they rest, if they feed, or are injured. I feel a surge of their power if they attack or move fast but there are no words back and forth between us.”

  “Explain exactly,” Zweiten said, “what they are all doing now.”

  “Eiche is resting to recover from his injury. He’s still in pain.”

  “Ho
w do you know that?”

  “I felt his pain.” It made her writhe on the bed when it happened.

  “And the others?”

  “Schmidt has just fed. Weiss is moving, somewhere with earth under his feet, not streets, and Bloch is still, but alert. He’s not resting.”

  “If you are lying, you will go to the camps and your family will be killed,” Zweiten reminded her.

  “I am not lying.”

  Without another word to her, they turned and left.

  But with her now sharper hearing, their whispers outside the door were audible.

  “What has happened? We must know. If he has gone rogue, the others must destroy him.”

  “Brunhilda has not reported in five days. Something must be wrong.”

  “Or she’s being careful. Old schoolteachers don’t take risks.”

  “Loyal servants of the Reich follow procedure and obey orders.”

  “You think that Fairy is lying?”

  “I think not. She will do whatever we demand to protect her family. I heard they are like that.”

  Yes. Bela smiled. Fairies are like that, they protect their own, and take vengeance on those who dupe and abuse them. These creatures had lied and would pay for that. Not silly, childish tricks used on disrespectful villagers. Zuerst and Zweiten and that Dritten with the evil eyes merited far more than soured milk or spilled flour.

  She would bide her time and build her strength. Already she could lean out of the iron-rimmed window. In a few nights she would try slipping out and clinging to the stone walls. And once she was ready, she would fly north, leaving havoc behind her, and find Gela.

  Together they would seek the deep woods and wait their chances.

  Even fairies dream.

  Chapter 28

  By the next morning the entire village was buzzing with the news. A resident arrested as a German spy! Brytewood harboring a member of the fifth column had tongues wagging from the ARP and WVS center in the village hall all the way up to the most distant farms.

  Andrew Barron, the supervisor of the munitions plant, received a call from the war office insisting on increased security precautions. Whorleigh’s store was full of gossiping villagers and the tea shop did unprecedented business as customers lingered over the shocking news. Even the teachers, enjoying their morning tea break, shook their heads at a member of their profession turning traitor.