Bloody Good

by Georgia Evans

  “How about a quiet spot where we can find mistletoe?”

  “Fletcher’s Woods.”

  “Our place, eh? We might need a few tools.” He dug into a packing case and brought out a box of folding pocketknives and a saw. An amputation saw, she suspected. “Don’t expect I’ll ever need to use this.”

  “I’m not sure you should. It looks like Boer war vintage.”

  “What about a dozen scout knives? What do they expect me to use them for?”

  “Who cares? Let’s borrow them and save having to go home.”

  They tucked the lot in her doctor’s bag and left. Going through the same barriers before heading toward the woods.

  “I’m worried, Howell. Where are they?”

  He was tempted to tell her there were plenty of places a young man and woman might be on a nice September afternoon, but Helen was obviously agitated. “They’re two level-headed adults and if they’re together they’re safe. Why don’t you tell me what’s got you all in a stew. It’s not just Alice missing lunch is it?”

  It wasn’t.

  He listened to her long, rather rambling tale, then added his little installment.

  “What was Gloria doing in the woods in the middle of the night?”

  “Minding her own business, Helen. I didn’t ask and she didn’t tell. We’re not the only ones with secrets.”

  Apparently not. Made one wonder how many Others called Brytewood home. “What now? I sent Alice and Peter to Mother Longhurst hoping she’d help.”

  “I know who it is, the Oak fellow, Miss Waite’s nephew. Has to be. All this trouble started after he arrived. Plus he’s Other. Knew that the first time I met him.”

  “You’ve known that all along and not done anything?”

  “Why would I assume he’s here to make trouble just because he’s Other? Maybe he came for the same reason I did, for peace and quiet and to be near a line of power.”

  “He didn’t, though, did he?”

  “So it would seem.”

  “I don’t like it, Howell, and I’m worried about Alice.”

  “I don’t like it either.”

  “We need to find out what Alice and Peter have learned, “Helen insisted. “We have to see this through to the finish and soon. After last night, this creature is downright dangerous and must be stopped.”

  “I’ll come up with you if you like. I’m supposed to be checking in the shipment of rifles we just got but they can wait. Can’t see Jerry coming up the Downs in the next couple of hours.”

  Chapter 39

  Peter got the mistletoe down, at risk to life and limb, and rather mangling the amputation saw in the process, but since they both hoped never to have to use it for its intended purpose, she wasn’t too worried about that. They also cut a number of stout stakes and sat on the running board of the car sharpening them.

  “If anyone saw us they’d think we’d lost our marbles.”

  He was right there. “Maybe we have. How many people in England, let alone Surrey, miss lunch on a nice September afternoon to sharpen stakes?”

  “Only those threatened by a vampire.”

  “Are we utterly bonkers?”

  “A fortnight ago, I’d have said we were stark raving bonkers, but I’ve learned a lot in the past two weeks.”

  So had she. “I was so rude, wasn’t I?”

  “Yes, but much sexier that Sid Mosley. Believe me, he wrote the book on rudeness.”

  “I love you, Peter.”

  “Mutual, my dear. Will you marry me?”

  Hadn’t they had this conversation before? “When I was a little girl, I used to imagine getting a marriage proposal seated in a conservatory or a rose garden or perhaps a beach at midnight. Sharpening stakes was never part of the fantasy.”

  “Shows the difference between make-believe and reality, then. Is it yes or no?”

  When it came to the crunch? She didn’t know him well enough, had no idea how they’d cope, should surely at least have met his family, but…“Yes.” She loved him. What more was there to say?

  “Smashing!” Most of the stakes ended up on the ground, but for this minute it didn’t matter.

  She wrapped her arms around him as he hugged her and their mouths met, a great wave of searing passion engulfing them. This was nuts, beyond reason or common sense, but she loved him, and that was a darn good way to face the future.

  “Once we get this business taken care of…” He indicated the stakes scattered at their feet. “We’re going into Dorking and I’m buying you a ring.”

  “What are we hanging around here for?”

  “To prepare the knife. I nearly killed myself getting that damn mistletoe according to Mother Longhurst’s prescription.”

  “Do you really think she knows what she’s talking about?”

  “Search me, but this thing”—he picked up the knife—“looks lethal enough.”

  “But anyone would die from a stab in the heart, and mistletoe is a poison.”

  “Scientist to the bone, eh, Alice?”

  “If I were truly a pure scientist I’d not be here sharpening stakes and watching you anoint a knife blade with squashed mistletoe berries.” They weren’t ripe but they were berries and they rubbed the whole thing with the leaves, too, just to make sure.”

  Peter wiped off the hilt. “Damn sticky these berries.”

  “I think that’s how they get planted—by sticking to birds’ feathers and beaks.”

  “Bully for the birds. Let’s just hope it works. I get the feeling you don’t get two goes at a vampire.”

  That was her constant worry. “We can’t just knock on his door and say, ‘Mr. Oak, we think you are a vampire.’ And ask him to keep still while we shove it in his heart.”

  His hesitation suggested he agreed. “I want to talk to Gran before we do anything. Her and Sergeant Pendragon. Tell them what we know and see that they think. They’re both a lot more up to snuff with this Other stuff than we are.”

  Eiche slammed the phone down so hard the cradle cracked, not that insignificant details like that mattered when faced with such hurdles. He was vampire! Stronger, faster, wiser, older, better in every way to these puny mortals. Yet, they’d attacked him with fire, repelled him with some sort of magic, and on top of it all were interrogating Williams about him and his injuries. Damn the stupid fool for giving out he was hurt, but at least the man had sense to alert him to this prying doctor woman.

  He needed to find her and fast. It was going to be a very, very short meeting. If he was going to get nagged by Weiss for failing to detonate that camp, he might as well add another death to his list.

  Perhaps waiting for dark, when he’d be at his strongest, might be wise. No, he might not be able to draw on the night horrors in daylight, but a puny, mortal female wasn’t a match for him.

  Now!

  He would not delay. With the strength he’d draw from her, he’d have another attempt on the camp tonight.

  But first to meet and feed off the dear meddling doctor.

  “Doctor Doyle?” the fat, flabby woman waiting at the bus stop said in answer to his inquiry. “She lives up the top of Random Hill. You can get the bus; it stops right by her corner. Big house on the right. Called The Gallop, you can’t miss it. But she doesn’t have a surgery on Saturdays, just emergencies.”

  “Thank you, I’ll wait until Monday, nothing urgent.”

  He strolled back toward Williams’s cottage, then cut across the back garden, leapt the hedge, and ran at full vampire speed over hedges and fences until he was clear of the last house. He ran on, up the hill, causing a herd of cows to scatter in fear, until he reached the crest of the hill.

  The fat woman had been right. Down a short drive, behind a thick hedge, was The Gallop, with a brass plate on the brick pillar announcing Doctor Alice Doyle’s surgery times.

  And the damn house was empty!

  No matter, he had time on his side in a way these mortals never would.

  Eiche found a
perch on the roof and settled against a chimney. While he waited, he’d anticipate the doctor’s death throes. An educated woman would be far more satisfying than that brute of a peasant.

  The sun was dipping toward the horizon. If she delayed until dark, he could really give her a nasty fright. Unless…no, what were the odds out of all the village she was that irritating magic user who’d repelled him last night. Nil! A doctor and educated woman would have no truck with peasant superstitions. She probably pooh-poohed the notion of vampires.

  He was about to round off, and terminate, her education.

  A few minutes later a large, tan shooting brake appeared in the drive.

  As the driver’s door opened and a young woman stepped out he leapt, landing a few meters behind her. “Doctor Doyle?”

  She spun around. “Yes?”

  And he recognized her.

  It was then Eiche noticed Williams’s personal dislike getting out of the other side.

  “Alice! It’s him!” the young man shouted.

  She went even paler. Nice. Fear always sweetened the blood, but if she used her magic, he’d need more. Eiche leapt over the car and caught the man’s neck as he landed, dragging him with him.

  The aroma of fear was tantalizing.

  As Eiche leapt, Alice watched in shock and amazement. As he tackled Peter, she was jolted into activity. Grabbing a pair of stakes and the knife they’d set carefully on the dashboard, she raced around the car as the monster dragged Peter toward the house. Stake in hand, she drove it into Eiche’s back.

  It was done!

  He reared up, let out a growl like a hellhound, and turned on her. Letting Peter drop.

  Peter fell like a limp rag doll. He was dead! This thing had killed him and was now snarling in her direction. And pulling the damn stake out.

  “Go!” she said. “Go!” It backed away momentarily, but wrenched the stake from its back with a vicious snarl and came toward her brandishing the stake. “Go!” she yelled.

  Last night it worked. Today, the vampire grabbed her arm and slammed her against the side of the car, making her drop the remaining stakes and the knife. The knife was just inches from her foot, but she was pinned against the car by the vampire.

  He grinned, giving a clear view of his fangs.

  Dear saints and angels!

  He kept grinning as he loomed over her.

  Her knee came up and jammed into his groin.

  Seemed vampires hurt there, too.

  His face contorted with a scream, he jerked back, and threw her down on the gravel. A hard landing, but she fell on top of the knife.

  She wasn’t getting another chance. Her hand closed on the hilt just as Eiche dragged her up by the collar.

  “For that impertinence, you will die slowly, and your friend can watch.” He reached out to kick Peter, who wasn’t as helpless as he looked. He pulled himself half up and his hand closed around Eiche’s ankle.

  But it wasn’t enough to pull him off balance. Eiche yanked his leg out of Peter’s grasp and kicked him in the face before turning to Alice.

  She just had time to notice the blood still flowing from the wound in Eiche’s chest when he grabbed her shoulder, yanking her to standing. She shoved the knife upwards, catching him under the ribs.

  He let go of her, uttered an unearthly scream that had the birds deserting the trees, and staggered, clutching at the hilt, before screaming even louder and staring at his hand.

  “You witch! May you burn at the stake and suffer ten times this.” Another scream and a stream of German she couldn’t follow, and she noticed his hand shrivel.

  But he wasn’t through yet. As if marshaling his last strength, he made another lunge for her, but tripped over Peter, who was dragging himself up.

  Eiche fell, his legs tangling with Peter’s, and landed on his face, the force of the fall driving the tip of the blade out his back.

  Not trusting it to be over, Alice grabbed the fallen stake, aimed straight for where his heart should be, and shoved.

  Took all her strength to get through ribs and tissue, but fear, anger, and the heat of the horror propelled her.

  She watched in fascinated horror as Eiche writhed against the knife and stake and howled to the heavens.

  Peter! He was half-standing, his face bloody but he was beautiful and she loved him. She helped him up.

  “Let’s use the other stake,” he said, reaching for the second, unused one that lay a couple of feet away, but it wasn’t necessary.

  Eiche shriveled before their eyes, his unearthly cries fading as his body crumbled.

  “I think we did it,” Peter said. “Or rather, you did. I was down and out.”

  “No, you were the distraction. I wonder why I repelled him last night but it didn’t work now.”

  “Beats me. Does it matter? You did him in.”

  “Alice, child, what in the name of all?” Gran called, running up the drive, Sergeant Pendragon by her side.

  “It’s alright Gran. It’s over.”

  The last thing they needed was Gran or the sergeant, who was even older, having heart attacks or strokes. Assuming Dragons did have heart attacks and strokes, of course. Come to that, did Pixies? She was going to have to supplement her medical training.

  “I wanted to catch you, Alice, and tell you what I’d learned, but seems you managed on your own.”

  “Thanks to Mother Longhurst’s magic vampire-slaying weaponry,” Peter said, his voice still a little wobbly. “And Alice. I was all but knocked out; she attacked that thing like a Valkyrie.”

  Interesting comparison.

  “So we got him,” Alice said. “That’s what matters. We’re going to have to do something about disposing of the body.”

  “I don’t think there will be a body,” Pendragon said. “Look.” The vampire was now a heap of fast-decaying flesh, along with an accompanying stench of putrefaction, in a pile of torn and bloody clothes. “As long as we don’t have any surprise visitors in the next couple of hours, I think he’ll be nothing but dust by morning.”

  “That’s him taken care of then,” Gran said. “Let’s leave him to it. Nice to know that’s over and no one else hurt.”

  “It’s not over, Gran. What about the other one, remember? He might be lurking somewhere around.”

  “Let him lurk, you need to change your clothes and get a good wash.”

  “Actually, Mrs. Burrows, Alice needs to get changed and go shopping. We need to get into Dorking before the jewelers close.”

  “Like that is it? Good. Alright, Howell,” Gran said. “Seems we’ll have that cup of tea by ourselves, and Peter, the White Horse used to serve a very nice dinner before the war. Why not call them and reserve a table for after you finish your shopping?”

  Chapter 40

  “Eiche is gone, extinguished,” Bela said, taking care to keep her voice neutral. An expression of satisfaction or pleasure would not be welcome.

  They both stared in disbelief. “If you lie, your family dies. Slowly,” Zuerst said.

  “I do not lie. I felt his essence fade.” And his strength meet hers in a mighty rush that hit her to the ground. But now that she’d absorbed his life force, she’d bide her time, test her powers and endurance, and wait to see if her increased strength was a passing or lasting thing.

  “How did it happen?” Zweiten asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he confronted a stronger being.”

  That earned her a slap across her jaw. She stumbled from the force of it, but felt almost nothing. Interesting. She stayed down long enough to satisfy them and made a play of struggling to her feet.

  “I don’t know,” she repeated. She just knew her hopes had risen.

  Try the other books in Georgia Evans’s fantasy series…

  Bloody Awful

  In the second volume of Georgia Evans’s supernatural trilogy, Gloria Prewitt must reveal her greatest secret to have any hope of saving the people she loves…

  As the district nurse for a cou
ntry village outside London, Gloria has the respect of the town and the satisfaction of helping those who need it most. She’d lose both if anyone discovered that she turns into a furry red fox and runs through the Surrey hills by moonlight. But what she sees on those wild nights suggests Brytewood is under attack—from a saboteur with superhuman powers and the force of the Nazi Luftwaffe behind him.

  What can one werefox do against a predator with devastating weapons at his command—and the strength of the undead besides? What can a woman with a secret reveal without losing all she has? With the help of a couple of Devonshire Pixies, a Welsh Dragon, and two men too stubborn to admit they’re outnumbered, Gloria might just find out the answers…

  Andrew had the best spot in the house, or rather the cellar: a battered sofa tucked in one corner. He pretty much preempted it, saying she needed to keep her leg propped up, air raid or not. It wasn’t a lie but Gloria stifled a twinge of guilt as she reclined on the dusty cushions and everyone else sat on upturned tea chests, rickety old chairs or the floor.

  The light from the low-wattage bulbs was no use for reading, as one customer realized as he gave up on his newspaper and folded it to sit on. There was nothing to do but wait. For whatever was or was not going to happen. The group of young officers who’d been propping up the bar, now hunkered down to one side and started a game of cards. Seemed Gloria’s best course of action was to lean back against Andrew and hope it was all a false alarm and they’d be upstairs again in no time, and she could finish her soup.

  It wasn’t a false alarm.

  After the seemingly endless drone of planes overhead and ack-ack fire, there was comparative silence. The only immediate sounds being whispered conversations among the hotel staff clustered and the odd exclamation from the card players.

  “Think that’s it?” Gloria asked Andrew.

  “Could be. Who knows? Best wait for the all clear.”

  Seemed it was going to be some wait. No one moved. Nothing happened. Apart from the arrival of an Air Raid warden checking gas masks.