and Milk Street
was a rookery of run-down houses, some of them derelict and empty.
"We are very close," said Lucy. The arrow on her map swung quickly now. Finally it swung due east. "He's in the alley down there," she said.
"Dismount. Follow me," said William and led the charge into the alley. It was pitch black and filled with debris. At the other end, it opened into a small square. A dilapidated tavern occupied one side. It spilled light onto the square from lanterns around its door. William saw a body draped over the worn stone of a waterless, fountain. He reached it in four strides and turned it over. It was a slattern. She looked old but was probably in her twenties. Too much wine and too little food had ruined her. The woman's throat was torn open. Blood still pumped out.
"He's still here somewhere. Look around," William said, loudly.
"There, there," said Walsingham's woman. William looked where she pointed. At first he saw nothing, but then a shadow detached itself from the general dark and slipped into a building. The woman must have eyes like an owl.
"After him," William ordered his men. "Not you," he said to the girl. "Fletcher, you stay here and protect the woman while we go after the killer. Follow me."
William drew his cutlass and led the way into the dilapidated building. The doorway opened straight onto some stairs. William climbed, his men following. Their weight caused the stairs to sway alarmingly. They must be riddled with rot. At the top was a landing, with three doors running off. William kicked in the first door. It collapsed easily. William thrust in the torch—the room was empty except for some broken sticks of furniture.
He repeated the process with the second door. This one took two kicks. The torch showed the monster inside. William got an impression of staring bulbous eyes and fanged teeth. The monster held his hands up to block the light and William could see that his nails were as long as claws. The torch seemed to bother the madman and he retreated back into the dark snarling. The boatswain followed William in and they thrust their torches at the madman, forcing him back. The man growled like a dog as more men with torches crowded the room. "Take him," ordered William, raising his weapon.
The monster turned and ran straight at the wall, crashing through it. The whole side of the rotten building came away in an explosion of breaking wood. William hadn't seen anything like it since a broadside of culverins blew in the hull of a caravel off Cadiz.
"Down the stairs, after him!" William ordered.
"Please, sir, the stairs is gone," said a seaman.
They were trapped. William looked down, torch out to light the square below. A pile of wood heaved and the monster got up, splinters cascading around him. Fletcher rushed the lunatic and aimed a blow with his cutlass. The monster caught the blade with his hand and, pulling it out of Fletcher's grasp, broke it. Fletcher had the "bottle," the courage, of a true sea dog. He stood his ground and threw a punch at the monster. It caught his wrist and pulled him in. With a slash of his other hand, the monster ripped open Fletcher's throat.
"Run, girl!" said William. "For sweet Jesu sake, run!"
The girl was paralysed by fear. She made no attempt to escape. William looked around frantically but he could see no quick way down. The monster advanced on the girl with his arms open as if to embrace her. She stepped into his arms as he bent his head down, fangs gleaming in the torchlight.
The girl blocked his arms with hers. She kneed the monster in the groin so hard that his body went into the air.
"Bloody hell," said the boatswain, with feeling.
The girl jumped back to put distance between herself and the killer. She had a knife in her hand. It must have been a trick of the light but her hands and the knife seemed to glow. The monster advanced on her with slashing swings of his clawed hands. She deflected each blow with her blade, leaping backwards every time to keep her distance.
Then she dodged a slash instead of parrying and, stepping into range of the monster, jammed her knife into his side. He screamed and reversed the swing of his arm, backhanding her across the head and body. She was thrown across the square, to crash into the tavern wall.
William moved to the edge looking for handholds down. His boot crashed through the wooden floor. He would have fallen if the boatswain had not hauled him back.
"Look out, girl," William said. He watched in agony, frozen to the spot.
The monster charged, trying to pin her in against the wall. Trapped, she would be helpless against his greater weight. She didn't give him time. She threw herself off the wall right back at him. They met in midair. She hit him twice in the body forcing him back. Then, when she had room, she spun and kicked him in the thigh so hard that William could hear the impact. The monster went down.
He didn't stay down but leapt up at her as if roped to a charging horse. His swing was ill timed and he missed. Again she stepped inside his reach. He was slowing down so she had more time. She brought her glowing knife around in a low swing that started behind her back. The weapon moved too fast to see, slicing into the monster's groin. She lifted him up in the air on the dagger's point. It cut deep into his body and he crashed down on his back, legs and arms twitching.
The girl stood there, looking at him.
William threw his torch down and climbed after it. He had some nasty moments but made it to the ground with nothing worse than splinters. Retrieving the torch, he went over to the mortally wounded monster. It was gutted from groin to chest. The knife must have been driven in with the force of a kicking stallion. William had seen wood splinters driven into bodies like this by culverin fire. Never had he seen such damage inflicted by hand. Only the handle of the knife protruded. William went to remove it.
"No, not yet," the monster said. "It's in my heart. I will die when you pull the knife out."
William recognised that voice. He pushed the torch nearer the face.
"Packenham? Is it really you?" William asked, horrified.
"Yes it's me. Christopher Packenham, the handsome lady-killer. Now I kill women for real and drink their blood. Look what the Spanish bitch has made of me, Hawkins. Look what she has done to me." The old arrogance had gone from the voice but it was definitely Packenham. William did not know what to say.
"She said she would make me strong. She brought something through the mirror from the Other World. It did make me strong and fast. Remember that night in your cabin? You were supposed to be asleep. I hit you a sturdy clout, did I not?" Packenham chuckled.
He grabbed at William's hand. "Then the voices started, telling me to kill, giving me a taste for blood, until I became this thing, this monster."
There was very little blood in Packenham. The knife had released what there was but most of the body seemed empty. Maybe that was why he craved blood.
"That girl. She fights like a Valkyrie. Who is she? What is she?"
"I don't know Christopher. She belongs to Walsingham," said William.
"Walsingham! I was supposed to kill him and his niece, Lucy Dennys. Isabella was determined to have the girl killed. She has a great grudge against her. I went for them one night but a guard surprised me. Later, all I could think of was blood, anybody's blood. I needed blood so badly that I couldn't make it as far as the Tower."
"How did you leave the ship? And how did you get here so fast, Christopher?"
"The mirror with the diamonds," Packenham said. "It opens doors to the Other World. We walked off the ship to London like moving through a door from one room to another."
He grasped William's arm. "Pull the knife and kill me. But first give me a cross. I will burn in hell for what I've done but let me die with a cross."
"Here, sir," said Brownlow, passing William a silver cross. A number of the men had climbed down and joined William while he was talking to Packenham. William handed Packenham the cross and the monster gripped it hard. Smoke curled from his fingers and his hand burst into flames. William put a boot on Packenham's chest and pulled the knife with both hands, until he got it free. How had
a little girl rammed the weapon in so deeply?
Packenham's body collapsed in on itself, burning with an eerie green flame until only a pile of ash remained. The night breeze blew the remains away leaving only the cross. William picked it up and turned to the girl. She still stood in the same place. Her whole body was shaking.
"Shock," said the boatswain. "I have seen young sailors do this after their first battle but never so bad. She ain't done this before, Cap'n. I think this is her first kill."
Carefully, William pulled the hood back and held the torch to light her face. Auburn hair tumbled out in the torchlight and two big brown eyes looked into infinity. For a moment, when he looked into her eyes, he seemed to see sparkling light, like stars or diamonds glistening in the sunlight, but the effect soon faded.
"Sweet Jesu," William said. "It's Lucy Dennys. Walsingham will have my balls for this." The girl did not seem to hear him. The boatswain looked meaningfully at the silver cross in William's hand and then at the girl. William took the hint and handed her the cross. She clutched it to her bosom. William looked up at the boatswain who shrugged. Whatever made Lucy Dennys able to crush demons was clearly quite different from the thing that had possessed Packenham.
"I reckon this maid knew what waited us here better than we did. What pluck it must have taken to come with us," said the boatswain, admiringly. "Do you think we could have taken down that demon without her?"
"We can take anything," said William, stoutly, but had his doubts. "We would have suffered grievous hurt, though. You saw what it did to Fletcher."
"Lady Dennys, Lady Dennys," William said gently. She knelt and shook. "Right, let's get her home. Bring Fletcher's body as well. I want no evidence left. This enterprise never happened."
William picked Lucy up and carried her to the horses. He mounted into the rear saddle and then the boatswain passed her up. William placed her in front of him so he could hold her as they rode.
The sea dogs trotted back through the dark streets of Old London Town. Lucy held close to William, her head on his chest. She had not spoken since the fight, indeed she seemed not to be conscious, but he hoped she drew comfort inside his arms. At least, she had stopped shaking. It was ironic, he thought, that he could only get a real lady into his arms when she was in a swoon. How his mother would laugh.
William had seen the Lucy the beautiful woman, Lucy the great lady, Lucy the scholar, Lucy the fearless warrior, and finally Lucy the shaken little girl. How many more Lucys were there? "Who are you really, Lucy Dennys, what are you?" William said, quietly to himself.
She sat well in his arms. William had known many women but never anyone like her. He liked holding her. He thought the man who possessed her would be the most fortunate of all men. What sons she would give a man. Wind lifted her auburn hair and it rustled against his arm. What daughters too, he admitted. Lucy's children would be the terror of the world. It was such a shame that she would be wasted on some chinless aristocratic milksop, who enjoyed high social status only because he once had an ancestor with fire in his belly.
An idea formed and grew. This was a new age where anything was possible. An aristocracy of the sea was rising that was more important than the old nobility of blood and land. He, William Hawkins, was one of these men. Walsingham himself was descended from a commoner merchant who had done well through trade and had married a Dennys. Old Man Walsingham had bought respectability by buying a manor house in Kent. There were many manor houses for sale in Devon, many options for a rising man with Spanish treasure in his pocket.
The horse broke stride as it skidded on something in the dark. Lucy shuddered as if at an unpleasant memory then snuggled in closer to William's chest. He glanced down. He wanted this girl so badly it hurt. He wanted her more than anything in the world, as much as he had wanted the captaincy of a galleon. Rest securely in my arms, milady, he thought. I will win you and you can rest there forever.
Act 13
The Lion Tower
'Lucy, Lucy, are you all right?' thought Lilith.
'Yes, Lilith, I'm back with you. What happened?'
'I don't know exactly. I have been searching my medical databases. I think you were in shock but it was much worse than it should have been. I need to investigate further.'
'Oh. Would you like some piece and quiet then?' thought Lucy.
'No. That's not necessary. I am not like you. I have a much bigger mind than you, so I can divide up my consciousness and multitask.' Lilith paused; Lucy did not answer, which usually meant that she was baffled so Lilith tried again. 'I can do more things at the same time than you.'
'Sometimes you seem so human, Lilith, that I forget you are really a demon, but then, I only have a little mind,' thought Lucy, dryly.
'What is the last thing you remember, Lucy? Do you recall the fight with the monster?'
Lucy's mind froze on Lilith. For a moment, she was concerned that Lucy might go back into shock. The girl seemed to shake herself and then recover. She really was immensely tough.
'I remember. I will remember until I die. It's funny. I wasn't scared at the time. I was too busy, you see. It was afterwards.'
'I have run diagnostics on your body and it seems to have recovered,' thought Lilith. "You do have some internal tissue damage and external abrasions despite the shielding. That monster was very tough. I have accelerated your healing processes.'
'So I will live then,' thought Lucy, with an edge that Lilith recognised as humour.
'I believe that it is my fault the shock was so bad. I failed to meld smoothly with your nervous system. I will do better next time,' thought Lilith. 'When you went into shock, I didn't know what to do. I thought that maybe your reaction was normal and that if I interfered I would make you look inhuman. So I did nothing and let you drift away; was that right, Lucy?'
'Quite right, Lilith. Are you holding me in a swoon?'
'Yes. It was convenient to hold you quiescent while I carried out urgent repairs to your body. Your eyes are closed but from the sounds and sensations you are on a horse. The captain is holding you in front of him. Your unconscious body rather likes the feel of his arms about you. It feels safe and protected and—'
'Yes, I get the idea, Lilith. Now wake me up so I can see where we are,' Lucy interrupted.
Lucy stirred in his arms and lifted her head up to William. Their eyes locked. For a brief moment of madness, he almost bent down and kissed her. Her slightly parted lips were only inches away from his. It would have taken but a moment. William controlled himself. Drake had once told him that there was a time for audacious attack and a time for thought and planning. She was no tavern girl to be bowled over by an audacious lad. This was going to be a long campaign.
"You have recovered, Lady Dennys?"
"Indeed, Captain, as you see," said Lucy. "Um, Captain?"
"Yes, Lady Dennys."
"I believe I might be able to stay on the horse even if you held me a little less tightly, and it would facilitate breathing."
William blushed and released her. She sat upright with one hand on the saddle and the other on his arm. Damn! She was laughing at him again, he thought, ruefully. Still, laughter was better than scowls. A careful man might build much upon laughter.
He knew this was the wrong time but he might not get the chance to talk to her alone again. "Are you ready to talk about it, milady?"
She shuddered. "Please, Captain, I want to forget."
"We must talk, milady." He was implacable. "That monster was Christopher Packenham, a Westcountry gentleman. He was possessed by a demon, wasn't he?"
"Yes," she said, briefly.
"And you knew. That is why you came with us."
"Yes." She paused. "I have never heard of Packenham but I knew we were facing something very dangerous."
"It ripped Fletcher apart. How did you kill it?"
"I have been trained to fight," she said.
"Don't gull me, lady," he said. "Fletcher could fight and it ripped him apart like a small
boy tortures a fly. I saw you thrown against a wall so hard every bone in your body should be broken. I saw you hit back with blows that would smash ship's timbers. How did you do it? What are you?"
She hung her head and tears rolled down her cheeks. She began to shake again. "Please, Captain, no more," she said.
Damnation, thought William. How does one deal with a weeping woman? To bully her further would be intolerable. He pulled her closer to him and she put her head on his chest. "Hush, milady," he said. "You are quite safe. On my life, no one will hurt you." He meant every word.
The party left London by Aldgate. This time the sergeant just waved them through. They clattered into the Tower over the stone entranceway. William swung Lucy down one-handed, then dismounted.
'He really is quite dashing,' thought Lilith, admiringly. Lucy ignored her. She was beginning to suspect that Lilith was a flirt.
"Hand the horses over to the stable lads," William said to his men.
The captain looked around. All was quiet except for the routine patrols. "I didn't expect the Mayor with a band but you think that someone might have come out to meet us. That prissy secretary of his might have shown his face, if not Walsingham himself."
"Um, Captain, I have a small confession to make," said Lucy, diffidently.
William looked at her suspiciously. She stood in front of him with her head down and her hands clasped together in front of her. She looked sweet and innocent. William strongly suspected that he was about to be gulled. He also suspected that she was going to get away with it.
"Sir Francis knew nothing about our little enterprise tonight. Information reached me from . . . from a personal source. I wasn't entirely open with you."
William sighed. "I realised that as soon as I recognised you, Lady Dennys. I cannot imagine Sir Francis sending his niece to hunt demons, whatever special abilities she might have."
"It might be best if we all forgot my participation. You and your gallant crew must take all credit for hunting down the monster," said Lucy, firmly.
Lucy's Blade Page 22
