Bloody Right

by Georgia Evans

  “You’re kidding me,” he replied, with obvious scorn. “Vampires! Phooey!”

  Little did the man (or whatever he was) know.

  “If not a Vampire, what do you think you saw, Mr. Whorleigh?” Peter asked.

  “I dunno, but it couldn’t be a Vampire. They don’t exist.”

  Alice stood. “We know otherwise, Mr. Whorleigh. I’d stay and explain but I have calls to make and had better get dressed. You don’t seem permanently injured. Thanks for the tea, Gran.”

  “You need something to eat,” Mrs. Burrows said.

  “I’ll grab some toast on my way out. I must get going, I’ve two calls up on Ranmore. Peter,” she said, and smiled as her husband looked up at her, “be a love and explain things to Mr. Whorleigh, or at least as much as you think he can stand.”

  Sam Whorleigh scowled as she went out. Damn it. He’d never liked her. She’d been a know-it-all child, and hadn’t improved. One reason why he was darn glad he never needed a doctor. The last one he’d want treating him was stuck-up Alice Doyle-now-Watson.

  “What is going on?” he asked, looking at Peter Watson. Maybe he’d get it straight from a man.

  “As to what’s actually going on, we’re not certain, but as to what you saw, I believe Alice was right. We suspected there was another Vampire in the village last night and seems it must have gone to earth in the vicarage ruins. I think you’ve been very lucky, Mr. Whorleigh.” He paused to take a mouthful of tea. “How did you happen to get away from it so easily?”

  “Easily?” he echoed with as much scorn as he could muster while shuddering inside. Had to be the casual mention of another Vampire that gave him the heebie jeebies. Was this one the same as Block?

  “Yes, easily,” the man repeated. “They move awfully fast. Faster than humans can.”

  “What exactly are you implying?”

  “You know exactly what he means, Sam Whorleigh. How did you get away unscathed? And don’t pretend you don’t understand me!”

  Damn Mrs. Burrows, the woman never let up. “I got up on the church roof, so there!” Let her chew on that one!

  She just nodded. “Good. You’re not my favorite person, Mr. Whorleigh, but I’d hate to think he’d caught you.”

  So did he, but that he wasn’t admitting out loud. “Right.” That was a lie if ever he’d uttered one. Nothing seemed right, and coming here had been a mistake. Or had it? At least they believed him. Anyone else would have believed he’d started drinking before breakfast. “What’s to be done?” He had to ask even if he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  “What would you be willing to do, Mr. Whorleigh?” Peter Watson asked. “Are you willing to take a few risks? Stick your neck out a bit?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well…” The man was too damn relaxed for Whorleigh’s idea of comfort. “Let me explain. Another cup of tea please, Gran?” There was a pause while Mrs. Burrows poured tea and Whorleigh gritted his teeth. Damn the man. He was doing this on purpose. “You accept what you saw was a Vampire?”

  Did he? “There’s some would say they don’t exist.”

  “Don’t let’s waste time, Mr. Whorleigh. You saw one. I’ve seen more than one. They exist. Just as you do. Trust me.”

  What did he mean by just as you do? And besides, “Why should I trust you?”

  Mrs. Burrows put the teapot down with a clink. “For goodness sake, stop this, Sam Whorleigh! You came in here white as a bleached sheet and scared out of your wits after an encounter with a Vampire. Now, with a couple of cups of tea inside you, your tune has changed. Vampires exist. Just as you and I exist and you’d better get used to the idea. If you’re here to join us and help get rid of these pests, fine and good. If not, you can just go back down that hill and open your shop.” She scowled at him. Probably casting some curse or other. “And by the way, what are you?”

  Nosy old bat. “What are you?”

  “I’m Pixie. And you?”

  “A Pixie?”

  “Oh, come off it. Are you going to say they don’t exist either?”

  “No.” Not much point and who’d make it up? Pixies indeed!

  “Well, then?”

  The woman never gave up. “I’m an Elf.” And he’d damn well deny it to his dying breath if anyone said a word about it beyond these walls.

  “An Elf.” She smiled. “Wonderful! Are there any more of you around?”

  Did the questions never end? “If there are, I’ve never met one.”

  “You came into your powers on your own?”

  Was it any business of hers? But since she’d asked and this seemed to be a morning to tell all, “I had a grandmother. She taught me most of it. My dad died in the trenches and I never knew who my mum was. I heard she scarpered off when I was born. My grandmother died ten years or so back. That was when I moved here and took over the shop.”

  “Well, Mr. Whorleigh, I don’t see why Elves and Pixies can’t work together.”

  What at? Vampire hunting? That prospect sent a lump like cold lead into his gut. “We’ll see. Tell me. You’re Pixie. That means the doctor is, right?”

  “That knowledge is for you and you alone, Sam Whorleigh.”

  He wasn’t barmy. “Fair enough. I wouldn’t want my Other nature bandied about the village any more than you would, but…” He turned to Peter Watson. “You’re a Pixie too?”

  “Good lord, no.” He shook his head. “No such luck. Just married to one. I’m a conscientious objector.”

  That’s right. There’d been that nasty incident in the Pig and Whistle back when he first arrived. “So, what next? Is that thing going to come after me again?”

  “If he does, I think you can cope, Mr. Whorleigh,” Peter Watson said. “If you move faster than a Vampire, you’ve got a head start on the rest of us.”

  “Maybe, but what if he finds out where I am? I’m not exactly hidden, am I?”

  “None of us is, Mr. Whorleigh, but we’ve beaten two of them. We’ll get this one.”

  “How do you beat them?” Did he really want to know? Moving far away seemed a good idea, but where could he go? He had a nice, tidy business here.

  “A combination of magic, knowledge, brute force and luck,” Peter told him.

  “We’ll have to have a meeting. With everyone,” Mrs. Burrows said. “Tonight’s out—I’ve a committee meeting about the children’s Christmas party.” Committee meetings when they had a Vampire on the loose, Whorleigh thought. Honestly! “How about tomorrow? Wednesday?”

  It was the night he played cards, but this was more important than winning a few bob. Or was it? “Why are we meeting?”

  “For you to meet the rest of us and so we can set up a plan to find out where this one is lurking, what he’s up to and how to get rid of him.”

  That was all? Why not just take on the whole bloody German war machine while they were at it? But he was intrigued. Especially at the mention of the others. Who the hell were they? Knowledge was always useful. “I’ll be here Wednesday. What time?”

  “Eight o’clock,” she replied.

  He’d stay in the shop and walk on up. If he couldn’t cadge another bicycle before then. “I’ll come.”

  “Good,” she replied, looking unnervingly self-satisfied.

  “It’s good to have one more on our side,” Peter Watson said, holding out his hand.

  Whorleigh took it and was about to ask who else was involved, when the door opened and the doctor put her head around the door. “I’m off, Gran. Might as well get an early start. Mr. Whorleigh, would you like a lift down into the village?”

  “Thank you, Doctor, I would.” Beat walking.

  Peter kissed Alice goodbye and watched them drive off. He’d better get going. He was due up at the clinic at the munitions plant at eight. “Odd chap, isn’t he, Gran?”

  “Very,” his grandmother-in-law replied. “I’m none too sure about him.”

  “But you pretty much press-ganged him into joining us.”

&nb
sp; “Better have him on our side and close enough to watch than starting trouble out there. And he was truly scared. He might not be much use—they say Elves are flighty at the best of times. But one never knows. He’s got nerve enough to break the law. I wonder how he gets away with it so blatantly.”

  “Perhaps it’s part of being an Elf?” Ouch, that was a bit flippant.

  Didn’t seem to bother her. “I wish I knew more about them. There’s so much I don’t know about Others.”

  “We’ve two Pixies, two Dragons, a Were-fox and now an Elf. Anyone else around, do you think?”

  “I think so,” she replied.

  Peter wondered about that as he pedaled his bicycle up the hill toward the heath. Who else might be Other?

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Well, son. Got any plans for today?” Howell Pendragon asked, as he handed Gryffyth a bowl of porridge.

  Gryffyth paused, spoon in hand, and swallowed to ease the lump in his throat. This was his father he was talking to, not the Reverend Roundhill! Why the stupid rush of nervousness? “I’m meeting Mary after school and we’re going to the flicks. Thought we’d have dinner out, too.”

  His father stared, his hand paused in midair on the way to the teapot. “Like that is it, son?”

  Gryffyth took a taste. Porridge was bland without sugar, but he’d rather put his sugar ration in his tea. Swallowing a mouthful or two gave him time to think. Didn’t help. “Like what, Dad?”

  Howell picked up the teapot and poured. “Don’t give me that, Gryff. I’ve never known you to take a girl out unless you were smitten. She seems a nice girl. Like her, do you?”

  Gryffyth took the cup his father handed him. Might as well go for broke. “Dad, I want to marry her.”

  His father’s familiar face broke into a grin and his eyes sparkled. “And how does she feel about that idea?”

  “Give me a chance. I haven’t asked her yet.”

  “It’s customary to, you know, son.”

  “I’ve only known her three days.”

  “So what? You’re sure, right?”

  He’d expected his father to laugh, be shocked, astounded, horrified even, but he was acting as if it was the most commonplace announcement in the world. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Most likely she is, then.”

  What a stupendous thought, but…“Dad, would a girl like Mary want a husband with half a leg?”

  “Why not? Women don’t pick husbands for their legs. Most consider other parts more important.”

  “Dad!” Talk about shocked over breakfast. “Honestly!”

  “Oh, son!” He smiled and shook his head. “Elevate your mind a little. I was thinking brains and heart, but…” He took a sip of tea. “Since you brought up the subject. Everything is alright in that department?”

  “As far as I can tell, Dad, yes.” And that was as much detail as he was giving.

  “That’s a mercy. I was a bit worried about that. Saw some horrid injuries in the last one.” He shook his head.

  God. So had he in this one. Sometimes one needed reminding that losing a leg wasn’t that bad after all. “Think she’ll have me, Dad? Tin leg and all?”

  “Holy smoke! How should I know? Ask her yourself. It’s the only way to find out.”

  “But, Dad, it’s a bit fast.”

  “Not so sure about that. I asked your mother to marry me the night I met her.”

  Gryffyth all but choked on a mouthful of porridge. “Dad?” He’d never thought about his parents meeting or courting. They had just always been married.

  “I met her at a dance, son.” His father’s eyes went misty as if looking back to a warm and pleasant past. “She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever set eyes on. Looking back, I don’t know how I got the guts up to ask her to dance, but I did. We had two dances, then went and sat out. I offered to get her a glass of lemonade and she said she’d rather have beer. Took me back a bit, that did, but I fetched two beers, we drank each other’s health and then I asked her to marry me.”

  Gryff’d never have imagined it like that in his wildest dreams. “What did she say?”

  “That she’d think about it. And she did. Two days later, when I met her at the factory gate, she said yes.” He paused, as if remembering, and Gryffyth waited. “We decided to keep it a secret. I agreed to ask her father the coming Christmas. We started saving. Thought we’d marry the June twelvemonth when we’d have a little nest egg to start out with. I even took on extra hours to have more to squirrel away. Then, the war came. I knew I had to sign up. So we got married right away. Two months before I was posted to France. She was already pregnant but we didn’t know it then.

  “By the time I heard you’d arrived, you were five weeks old. When I got back you were running around the place like a little steam engine.” He went quiet. “Always regretted missing those years. Bron and I wanted more, so I’d have the fun of a baby to keep me up at night, she used to tease. But it never happened. Still…” He smiled. “Seems I’ll have grandbabies instead.”

  “Hang on a mo’, Dad. I haven’t asked her yet.”

  “What are you waiting for? If you want her, get your word in before some other lad pips you to the post. I know young Longhurst has looked in her direction.”

  “Tom Longhurst isn’t even in the running.”

  “She told you that, did she?”

  “Well, yes.”

  Dad threw back his head and let out a great laugh. “Well, I’ll be blowed! She’d hardly be likely to tell you that if she wanted you to take a running jump, now would she?”

  Well, no, but…“Damn it all, Dad. How can I be sure?”

  “You can’t. Just go ahead and ask her and find out. Life’s a risk. You don’t need me to tell you that. You learned that at Trondheim. If she says yes, you plan a wedding. If she says no, you come home and drown your sorrows. If she says maybe, you’ll have to hang on and hold yourself together the way I did. Almost did me in.” He muttered the last bit as if to himself. He looked around the kitchen. “Hope she says yes. This place would do nicely for you, starting out. We’ve got the bathroom we put in a few years back. Kitchen could do with a little sprucing up, but that’ll have to wait until after the war. You’ve got the nice front bedroom, and a couple of others for your babies.” He looked downright thrilled at the prospect.

  “Wait a minute! If and when she says yes.” If only. “And if and when we get married, we’re not turfing you out of your own house.”

  He shook his head. “I might not be needing it much longer.” What the hell? Was he ill? “I’ve been thinking about matrimony myself.”

  Gaped wasn’t the word for what his jaw did at that. “You? Dad?”

  “Don’t look so scandalized. I’m not quite tipping my toes up yet.”

  That was blooming obvious. “Who?” He raised an eyebrow and treated him to a smug grin. Gryffyth thought a minute. He just couldn’t see Dad going for any of the obvious widows or spinsters of the parish, but…“It’s Alice’s grandmother, isn’t it? Mrs. Burrows!”

  His father grinned. “Right first time.”

  “You asked her?”

  “No. Been thinking it over, though.”

  “Dad, you get on at me to propose to a girl I’ve known three days, and you’re thinking it over and you’ve known her fifteen years. Longer, in fact.”

  “Maybe I have, but I had you to bring up, and she had Alice and her brothers. It wasn’t the time for us.”

  “What about now? You’re itching to get me hitched. Alice is married, her brothers grown.” And—please, God—would be coming home. “What are you hanging around for? Want her to ask you?”

  “’Course not! I plan on asking her. But I’m not going to do it with an audience, and with all that’s going on, it’s hard to get time together.”

  “I see.” Gryffyth scraped up the last bit of porridge and washed it down by draining his tea mug. “Right you are then, Dad,” he announced, putting his empty mug down on the table. “I’l
l ask Mary LaPrioux tonight, if you’ll ask Mrs. Burrows at the same time. We can come back and celebrate or drown our sorrows together.”

  “Eh?”

  Wasn’t often he left his father speechless. Better savor the moment. “That’s the deal, Dad. Take it or or leave it.”

  “Nothing like having your own flesh and blood turn on you!” From his tone, Gryffyth knew Dad wasn’t really upset. Just astounded perhaps? That made two of them. “Is it a deal, Dad? Better get your word in before someone pips you to the post. Sam Whorleigh might fancy her.”

  Dad laughed at that. “She can’t stand him!”

  “Told you, did she?”

  “She didn’t need to. I’ve eyes and ears in my head. Besides, he’s a funk and a crook. Feathering his own nest at others’ expense. He’s no competition.”

  “Reverend Roundhill’s a widower now. Mrs. Burrows would make a fantastic vicar’s wife.”

  “Get along with you, Gryff! I’ll ask her. Might as well, since you’ll be gone. But you’d better not chicken out.”

  No, he’d better not, but he had all day to get his courage up. “Well, that’s settled then.”

  His father stood and started to gather the dirty plates and mugs and head for the sink. “Here, let me do that, Dad. I can’t sit around while you do all the work.”

  Howell hesitated a moment, then handed over the dish mop. “Thanks, son. Will give me a chance to shave. You are coming down to join the Home Guard this morning?”

  “Of course, I’ll sign up. Might as well do my bit.”

  “We’re delighted to have you with us, young Pendragon,” Sir James Gregory said, as the meeting broke up. Not before time. With a bit of help from the ARP volunteers, they’d managed to terrify half the village, testing and installing the newly arrived air raid sirens.

  “I’m glad to do my bit, sir,” Gryffyth replied.

  “You’ve done that, and more, already, young man, but you’re needed here as much as you were overseas. We’re not going to win this one by sitting it out.”

  Howell nodded. Pity that slacker Whorleigh wasn’t around to hear that. “Gryff ’ll be an asset to the Home Guard,” he said. “I’ll work him into the roster, sir.”