Ella, The Slayer

by A. W. Exley

  I kept the scented handkerchief over my mouth and nose. I had no desire to inhale the sickly sweet odour of flesh succumbing to flames. The fire would burn out and die down quickly. The surrounding green grass would ensure it didn't spread, and the posts were far enough apart we didn't have to worry about compromising the fence. Still, once it cooled off I would send Henry back out to remove anything that remained and check the integrity of the wires. I hated sending him, sure that it must relive the horrors of the trench for him. If time allowed, I would finish the gruesome task myself, but I never knew what step-mother would decide needed my attention. The fence needed to be checked before night fell, and she might decide I needed to crimp her hair instead. I knew Henry would undertake the job and never complain, but he would cry again tonight.

  I walked back to the mare, picked up the reins, and swung up into the saddle. "Come on, girl, nothing more to see here."

  Chapter Two

  It was a hard ride to check the rest of the fence. Not because of terrain or interruptions, but because slaying a vermin always left me twitchy. I found it hard to sit still in the saddle. It seemed as though the maggots eating their dead flesh had burrowed into me, squirming under my skin. With each step the mare took, my adrenaline levels fizzed higher. Strange really, I held perfectly calm while doing the deed. It was only afterwards that it slammed into my body. I needed to steal a few moments of peace to practice with my sword. The slow rhythm of a tai chi form would settle my mind and allow the adrenaline to dissipate.

  We finished our route, checking not just our fences, but also those of our closest neighbours. We also checked the animals. Our flock of sheep grazed peacefully, unaware of the vermin that tested the fences under cover of darkness. Lambs frolicked and grew and would soon be sold to the butcher. The vermin rarely disturbed the livestock. I had no idea why not, but at least I didn't have to deal with shambling undead cattle.

  Most of the time I didn't mind my workload. Men still trickled back from Europe, and those who had returned often struggled to adapt to their old roles. Women and the elderly still worked twice as hard to fill the vacuum they left behind, and we all had to pull together. Far better to keep my mind occupied than seek to fill empty hours with flights of fancy. I did this for father and for our extended family that reached to the village. I didn't work for her, despite what illusion she lived under. Perhaps one day, father would fully return to us, realise the rot in her soul, and put her aside.

  Enough of mawkish thoughts. I kicked the mare and gave her the reins as we galloped over the fields. Speed helped to dissipate some energy, the passing wind picked it from my skin and wicked it away. I rose out of the stirrups and leaned close to her neck, letting her dictate the pace. Her ears flicked back to me, then forward as she ran over the lush grass. We aimed for a fallen log, jumped it, and continued on toward the dense wood. She dropped back to a trot and then a walk as we ventured into the embrace of the old forest. The mare huffed, and we both used the silent walk to catch our breath.

  There was a particular spot I liked, a small green clearing surrounded by enormous birch and oak. The trees embraced and protected the clearing. I imagined it was the sort of spot that fairy folk might hide within. I dismounted and the mare, well used to our routine, dropped her head and snoozed in a shaft of sunlight. Standing in the middle of the clearing, I drew the katana, closed my eyes, and remembered the day father left.

  I had only recently turned thirteen. He took down the elegant Japanese sword from its place on the library wall and handed it to me. The weapon seemed so exotic and magical. I held my breath as the blue silken tassel caressed my skin and I remembered the great weight of the weapon in my small hands. My first attempt to lift it failed, and I thought I would have to drag it behind me like a barbarian with a club.

  Father had a serious expression on his face but a light in his warm brown eyes. "Take this, Ella, and practice while I am away. There is a book on my desk that explains all about the history of the katana and how it is used. It is a noble weapon, and must be treated as such. I want to see what you have learned by the time I return. It will keep you occupied and out of trouble, I hope."

  He kissed me and folded me in a bear hug. He stood so tall and proud in his officer's uniform, a laughing Henry at his side in his infantryman's khaki. We thought they would be home by Christmas. While we waited, I practiced every day. At first I was barely able to lift the sword, then over time it grew to be an extension of my arms. Alice would read from the book as I worked. She used the pictures to correct my stance and hold. Would father be proud? He never had a son, and instead had taught me all the practical skills as though I were a more valuable boy. How many other Edwardian fathers would hand a thirteen-year-old girl a katana?

  As events unfolded, it transpired that father had gifted me with an ability that would save countless lives. The years spent honing my swordplay made the blade an extension of my arm. We grew together. And now I wielded that skill for my family and in service of the village.

  The crunch of twigs under foot pulled me from the depths of childhood memories. The noise wasn't the random crack or creak of the forest, this was a deliberate step. It made me whirl, blade extended. I controlled my breathing — panic could get you killed. Deep breaths in through my nose, out through my mouth, as I opened my eyes. The katana stopped inches from the flesh of the vermin's neck that sought to creep up on me. I glanced at its face, and met grey eyes that peered back at me with intelligence, not the vacant glaze of the returned.

  "Who are you?" I had no intention of moving my sword until the intruder identified himself, vermin or not.

  "Who are you?" he threw back with a distinct upper class accent. "I saw the saddled horse but no rider, so I came to investigate."

  Dark, cropped hair was just growing out from a military cut. He stood at least six foot, with wide shoulders and a faint hint of colour to his skin. All right, definitely no vermin. This one was positively alive, he pulsed with spirit before me. Part of me wanted to sway toward him, to brush against his vitality and take part of it into me. To see if he would enfold me in those strong arms.

  Foolish, Ella.

  I pulled my mind back on task, and continued my inspection. His bearing alone screamed army, as though his bones had been replaced with metal. A returned soldier, but none I recognised and far better dressed than any local farmer. This man's linen shirt was open at the neck, perhaps because of the summer heat, and he was dressed for riding in creamy jodhpurs and boots much like mine. Except his were impeccably tailored to his form, newly washed and pressed. My clothes were Henry's hand me downs and bore the splatter from the vermin I recently dispatched.

  A chestnut grazed at the opposite side of the clearing, its coat gleamed from good health and care. Its conformation announced it as expensive horse flesh. All right, I was curious. Who the hell was he, to be riding around the countryside on his own? People expected it of me, but then I knew what I was doing. Perhaps he was visiting relatives?

  This soldier had a strong, square face, and a smile quirked on his full lips as his gaze flicked down. Following his line of sight, I saw the pistol aimed at my heart. Well, there was a surprise. He dressed and sounded like a toff, but carried himself like a military man and had the common sense not to wander the woods unarmed.

  "Shall we agree to a mutual disarmament?" he said and raised one eyebrow.

  Slicing off someone's head versus bullet through the chest, our standoff could get messy. I would put away my weapon, but if he thought to take advantage of a lone girl in the woods, he was in for a surprise. I knew how to fight with my bare hands thanks to years of wrestling Henry.

  "Very well," I said. He withdrew his arm, and I tucked the katana back into the scabbard strapped behind me.

  He holstered his pistol and held out one hand. "Seth deMage."

  I swear to God, all sense of logic and reasoning failed me. An arctic wind blew through one ear and out the other and numbed every thought in its path.
I couldn't even move. Seth deMage was the new Duke of Leithfield. Or the not so new duke, as his father was one of the first to succumb to the virus the previous year while the son was still at war. The whole village gossiped about when he might return to take up his seat. His work in the armistice negotiations had delayed his return, but it appeared he was absent no longer. Step-mother would pitch a fit, she was angling for a dinner party invite for her and my step-sisters. A match with one of them to the young duke would secure her future.

  And here was me, the dirty little scullery maid and the new duke was trying to shake my hand. Kicking my thoughts back into action, I dropped a curtsey.

  "Your grace," I managed to stutter. My gaze darted around the clearing, and mentally I willed Molly to wake up, gallop over, and we'd affect our escape.

  "Seth, please. I think having your sword levelled at my throat puts us on an informal method of address."

  He laughed. He actually laughed at me, a deep chuckle so unfamiliar in these times that it sounded alien to my ears. I hadn't heard a man laugh since father departed for war. There had been little to laugh at since, and Henry only screamed.

  I blinked. Nope, my reasoning returned to its deluded state. It seemed easier than trying to figure my way out of this mess, and the stubborn mare refused my mental summons.

  He stepped forward and took my hand, placing it in his larger one for a firm handshake.

  "Yes, your grace," I muttered, staring at where our flesh touched. So warm, it spread up my arm like an escaped fire.

  When I looked up, he was still smiling as his gaze searched my face. "And you are?"

  Mortified. I hoped a sudden earthquake would rupture the ground below my feet and swallow me whole. I paused – nothing. Apparently God was not going to help out with a convenient earthquake. I would have to rely on my wits to get out of this pickle. Assuming I had any left.

  "Oh, um, Eleanor." I kept my breathing calm, while inside I ran frantic circles trying to find an exit from this horrible predicament. I could no more be introduced to the duke than I could knock on the door of Buckingham Palace and invite myself in for a cup of tea. Not only was I the local slayer with my hands covered in the blood of vermin, even worse, I was no lady nor would I ever be. As step-mother constantly reminded me, servant blood from my mother ran strong in my veins, and no amount of education my father supplied could remove that taint.

  "Eleanor," he murmured my name, as though tasting the syllables on his tongue, which made me stare at his mouth. A shiver ran down my spine as I wished he would whisper my name again.

  What was I doing? Oh bugger, that's right – trying to extricate my hand. Except, I really don't want to lose contact with him. His firm grasp on my fingers made me tingle with life, chasing away the last remaining images of struggling vermin. While he touched me, I was alive and not a hollow shell.

  "Are you local?" he asked.

  The tiny voice in the back of my head started laughing. I'm local all right, a local servant. Think Ella, think!

  "Eleanor Cowie. I came from London last year to stay with distant relatives." Yes, that would throw him off the scent. Good thinking Ella. No one would suspect a Londoner of thrashing around in rural Somerset with a sword.

  His gaze swept my body and seemed to linger on my blood stained boots. "You shouldn't be out in the woods alone. There are undead about, but I suspect you know that."

  What gave it away? Maybe the piece of red matter stuck to my boot. Was that spinal column? I snorted back a giggle. "I can look after myself."

  "Quite." His gaze stayed fixed on my face and he still held my hand. "What brought you here from London?"

  Blasted questions, I needed a convincing story and quick. I was nimble with a blade, but never so quick with an untruth. His thumb was doing small circles on my wrist, and the tiny caress was going to make my knees buckle and my brain dribble out my ears.

  Pull yourself together Ella. It's not like you've never been touched by a boy before.

  Man, my brain whispered back. This one is most assuredly a man.

  "My family sent me away toward the end of the war, and I stayed when the pandemic broke out. Now it is too unsafe to return. You cannot tell the vermin in a crowd. Many more are being infected on the streets of our cities and towns."

  He made a noise in his throat and let my hand go. "These are dangerous times. I thought the Great War would prove to be England's darkest days, until I returned to our shores." He tucked his hands behind his back, as though we had conversed at some society event. "Will you allow me to escort you back to your home?"

  "No, thank you." Oh lord no, that's all I need, another reason for the wicked witch to flog me. "I must be going, I am late and I'm sure you have more important things to be doing." If morning tea were late there would be all hell to pay, I pulled out my old pocket watch and glanced at the time. Ten o'clock. Hell, I would be late unless we cantered all the way home. I lifted the reins from a nearby branch and tossed them over Molly's head.

  "Let me give you a leg up then."

  Before I could say a word, he closed the gap between us, standing so close I could smell his soap and cologne. It wrapped around me and I wanted to close my eyes and savour a moment untainted by death. One more memory I could add to my store and pull out when the tide threatened to overwhelm me and pull me under, like his gentle touch on my skin turning my legs to jelly.

  Hands on the saddle, I bent my knee, and his strong hands slid along my boot.

  "On the count of three," he said and counted down, popping me easily into the saddle on three.

  "Safe journey, Eleanor." He smiled wide, showing even teeth. "I do hope we meet again."

  "Safe journey to you too, Seth." His name on my lips made my heart stutter. Foolish, it was only because his touch produced such an unusual reaction in me. He was so far above me, I could no more catch a star than whisper his name. But I wanted to try, just once, before the world came crashing down around me and shoved me back in the gutter where I belonged.

  Chapter Three

  The horse's shoes rang out on the cobbles and the horses in the barn called out in greeting. Blasted horses, so much for sneaking back so no one knew I was late. Alice rushed from the backdoor and was at my side as I dismounted.

  She stared up at me, even as she tried to check my limbs for bite marks. "Where have you been? She's in a right state that her scones are late and is most insistent that you must serve them. She made me take the tray back to the kitchen and come find you."

  I held in the sigh. Of course, she'd want me to curtsey and serve her tea, there was less sport in lording her superior position over Alice.

  "Sorry, I found a vermin that had tried to crawl under the wire last night, and it was trapped. I had to dispatch it and needed time alone after." Most vermin got hopelessly tangled up in the barbed wire during the night, giving us valuable time to dispose of them in the morning. Probably best not to mention that I nearly gave the new Duke of Leithfield a closer shave than any valet would dare.

  "Where are the other two?" I asked.

  Henry took the mare's reins and led her back to the barn, while I unslung the sword and handed it over. Alice gave me a clean apron in exchange. I had no time to change from my dirty clothes, step-mother would have to cope with me in trousers and not my drab-grey uniform.

  Alice laughed. "Still abed. Deliver her morning tea, then we have to wake them up and dress the delicate princesses for whatever outing they have planned."

  For nearly six years, Charlotte and Louise had been stuck in the countryside. They still thought they were part of the London set, those who had sufficient wealth and popularity to sleep late and stay up until the early hours. Except instead of balls, galas, and concerts, all they did was play havoc with Alice and I. We had to stay awake to help them undress, but still be up at six in the morning to reset all the fires and start our chores. I sighed and headed to the barrel of water by the back door. I plunged my hands in, scrubbed off the worst of the di
rt, and sluiced water over my face. Thankfully my hair was short. I had hacked it off the previous year while nursing. Long hair was too much effort to maintain. Everything got a quick dry on the apron as Alice tied the ends at my waist.

  "You'll do in a pinch," she said. "Just hope she doesn't look down at your boots."

  Inside the kitchen, I grabbed the silver tray set for tea with scones, strawberry jam, and cream. Alice shoved my cap on my head and tucked my wayward hair underneath. Not quite presentable for her ladyship, but regardless, I headed up the back stairs to the parlour.

  The hidden door to the entrance hall closed behind me, and I walked on the balls of my feet, so as not to drop mess on the carpet. I balanced the tray on one hand, opened the door, and entered her domain. In the last few years she erased the masculine touch of my father from the room, replaced it with chintz flowers, and crammed every surface with ornaments of leering cats. I like cats, we have two out at the barn. I just don't like hundreds of glassy eyes staring at me from every nook and cranny. At least she didn't touch the library. I could retreat there and breathe in his world, but for how much longer?

  "Sorry, my lady," I said, setting the tray down on the delicate table next to the sofa covered in soft pink and palest green chintz. "One of the fences was broken and a vermin still lay trapped within."

  She gasped and dropped the needlework into her lap. One hand flew to her chest. "I have asked you not to speak of those dreadful things in my presence. It really isn't fit conversation for a lady, although one would expect such uncouthness to pass your vulgar lips."

  "Yes, ma'am." I dropped a curtsey and waited for my dismissal. Please let her be done with me. I preferred to feed father and tell him about the day's events as he sipped on his broth. I imagine he hears my words and is silent because he is weighing up the appropriate response to give, not because his mind no longer works.