Souls to Heal
Page 24
The dead creature omitted a soft oomph as the hook pierced his torso, but it wasn’t enough. The wolf jumped again, this time channelling its weight to its front paws as it shoved Forge deeper onto the hook.
The end popped through the vampyre’s chest. He frowned down at it and tried to shift his weight forward, but couldn’t because of the upward angle of the pole and the curved end of the hook. When that didn’t work, he threw his body sideways, trying to dislodge the hook from the crack. It held, but for how long?
The wolf couldn’t finish Forge, but the man could. Ewan shifted forms, folding the wolf back inside him as he emerged, naked, from the fur that dissolved into nothing around him.
“The knife,” he said to Alice and held out his hand.
Alice slipped the hilt into his palm and his fingers curled around it.
“No. No.” Forge squirmed, trying to lever himself free, but his toes barely touched the dirt and he couldn’t lift his weight high enough to wrench free of the hook. “I’ll let her go free and we can finish this like men.”
“But we aren’t men, we’re Unnaturals.” Ewan tore away the shredded fabric of the jacket. Underneath, long gashes ran across the vampyre’s torso from the wolf’s claws. Without hesitation, he thrust the blade into Forge’s right side and made a large gash. Thick, dark blood that resembled tar oozed from the wound. Ewan shoved his hand in the slit and prodded up under the rib cage.
“I will give you a cut of what I have earned. You will be the wealthiest dog in all of England.” The traitor tried to buy his freedom. His pleas became more frantic as Ewan’s hand reached further into his body. “I will give you anything, just name your price. ”
Ewan told himself it was no different than gutting a rabbit, just on a larger scale. His fingers found what he sought and he tugged the organ down towards the hole.
“No. Don’t do this. We are brothers, you and I. Unnaturals should inherit this Earth from lesser mortals.” For the first time in their long association, Forge displayed emotion as panic laced his words.
Ewan didn’t even look up as he severed the arteries holding the liver in place. As it was cut free, the vampyre sighed and slumped against the pole. Ewan walked over to the brazier and tossed the heavy, meaty organ on the flames. Alice added a shovel of extra coals to fuel the fire.
Forge screamed as flames licked the liver, tasting it, and then the outer surface turned black as it charred. The liver was soaked with the same thick tar-like substance that clotted Forge’s veins, and as it transpired, the stuff was combustible. Fizzing and pops jumped within the flames as the fire slowly consumed the large organ.
The vampyre’s body danced and shook on the spike, as though a giant hand rattled the piece of metal. Forge reached out with one hand, like he intended to retrieve his missing liver, then it made a fist and dropped. The fingers splayed, limp, at his side.
“Is he dead?” Alice asked.
Ewan slipped his arm around her waist, needing to have her close to him. “He died a long time ago. The bigger question is whether we stopped him once and for all. Aster said the only way to destroy him was to destroy his liver.”
“The liver, the organ of regeneration,” Alice whispered.
Of course his clever mate would know that. “It was what allowed him to heal any injury and how his kind use the blood of their victims to keep their dead bodies looking fresh and animated.”
He turned her in his arms and gazed into her forest green eyes. “I love you, Alice, and I shall spend the rest of my life making sure you know it.”
She smiled and it warmed him to his core. “I already told you that I wasn’t going anywhere. I love you.”
She arched her neck and he kissed her, gentle and aware of the cut to his lip and the slow trickle of blood down his face.
“You are hurt, though. These need to be dressed.” She touched the scratches on his face and torso made by Forge’s nails.
He captured her hand and kissed her fingers. “They’ll heal fast now I can shift forms. There is still much to be done here. Let us see what these barrels contain.”
He picked one barrel from the row and carried it to an open space, away from the brazier. Then he found a metal bar to lever apart the planks. “Stay away—we don’t know what these hold.”
Alice stood by the entrance to the tunnel as Ewan levered the top of the barrel open. He sniffed as the planks popped and gave way. Nothing jumped out at him or blew up, which was reassuring. That meant there was no booby trap within the barrels.
He stared into the container, trying to make sense of what he saw. The brandy barrel was packed tight with numerous parcels. He reached in and pulled out a wrapped bundle the size of a book.
“What is it?” Alice asked, venturing closer.
Unrolling the oilskin revealed five small jars. Three were porcelain with gold edging and scenes in vibrant colours painted in miniature on their sides. Two others were cut crystal that revealed pale pink contents. Ewan flicked the lid open to reveal creamy powder and a soft face puff.
“Face powder? That doesn’t make any sense.” Alice reached for the container.
“No!” Ewan shouted and knocked her hand out of the way. “Don’t touch it. I’ve smelt this before.”
He leaned a little closer and inhaled. The aroma coming off the powder triggered a memory. Long ago on the battlefield, he encountered a French officer who stank of death and fired a magic bullet at him. The powder had the same aroma of decay.
Alice glanced from him to the innocent looking container. “Poison?”
He closed the lid with one finger. “Yes, of some sort. If this was concocted by the French mages, there is no knowing what it might do. It could kill or turn the user into another type of Unnatural.”
There was a horrifying thought. What if the contents turned the user into a vampyre? They would have an English epidemic of nocturnal creatures who fed on blood. Tens of thousands of innocents would die in such an outbreak.
Alice turned to stare at all the wooden barrels. “Do you think they all hold the same thing?”
He shrugged. “We won't know until we look. Let's try another.”
The next one held the same book-sized, oilskin-wrapped packages. When Ewan peeled back the wrapping they found an assortment of silver snuff boxes. The stink of death clung to the white powder within.
“Snuff and powder. Two items people from all walks of life use on a regular basis,” he muttered.
“How many people would have been infected with whatever these contain?” Alice stared at the rows of barrels.
Thousands, Ewan estimated. “Whatever this does, Forge was stockpiling it. He planned to release his entire supply at once. Thankfully we have foiled their plot against England.”
Alice leaned against his side and reminded him that he was naked and she was not. “What now? Do you fetch the authorities from Hythe?”
“No. I cannot risk this falling into anyone’s hands. I will take care of things here. Take the horses back to the tavern and pack up our belongings. I want to get as far away from Seabrook as we can tonight.” Ewan stroked her face and marvelled at how much love his once-cold heart contained for this woman.
Alice frowned. “Won’t you need a horse?”
“No. My wolf needs to run after so long trapped within me. When I am done here, I will meet you on the road between Hythe and London, at the first marker.”
He kissed her again, and then Alice grabbed her shawl and disappeared down the tunnel.
There was much for Ewan to do, and fortunately the smugglers kept the supplies he needed. But there was one task he needed to do first.
While Aster had written that destroying the vampyre’s liver would likewise end the creature, Ewan wanted to make doubly sure. The traitor had a habit of turning up over and over like a bad penny. He picked up the knife and approached the dangling body. If the creature was going to piece itself back together, Ewan was going to make the job as difficult as possible for him.
Ewan picked the head up by the hair and stuffed it into a barrel. Then he moved to the next phase of his plan, how to get rid of the hoarded French weapon. Luckily, the last load of smuggled goods was still in the cavern, and those barrels actually contained brandy.
The smugglers kept all sorts of things in case they ran into trouble, including a quantity of gun powder, and Ewan poured a measure into Forge’s mouth. The rest he mounded between barrels. When he was satisfied with his preparations, Ewan tapped a barrel and splashed the contents all over the others.
He kept opening barrels of brandy and spilling their contents, careful to stay away from the brazier that still devoured the vampyre’s liver. At length he had emptied all the containers but one and had saturated the rows of kegs with their powder and snuff.
Then Ewan picked up the last barrel and carried it back down the tunnel, leaving a glistening trail as he walked. At one point he stumbled over debris in the dark. He set the brandy on the ground and swung the lantern around to reveal the body of Crufts slumped across the path.
The man’s eyes were open and his hands clutched at a stain on his chest. Ewan kicked the man’s foot, but there was no response. He got what he deserved for laying his hands on Alice. Within him, the wolf swelled with pride. Its mate was a lethal beauty.
Ewan picked up barrel and lantern and carried on out into the cool air. On the sand by the entrance, he emptied the last dregs and then dropped the lantern into the puddle. It flickered for a moment, as though unsure of a course of action, then it raced along the liquor.
Time for him to leave. He turned and shifted, dropping to all fours within the space of a heartbeat. Silently the large wolf padded back up the track. When it was some distance away from the cavern, it sat and waited. A few minutes later, the earth under its feet shook as a whump boomed through the night. Flames shot out from the cliff and reached for the ocean, before they were sucked back in again. The tremble grew stronger as a rumble raced along the ground.
A roar followed as part of the cliff crumbled and fell in upon itself.
Satisfied, the wolf took off at a lope.
27
Alice
* * *
Alice could have flown back to the tavern; her heart was so light she had no need of a horse. Ewan loved her. Those were words she would never tire of hearing from his lips. It didn’t matter what the future held from this point forward, because they would be together. Once you grasped the moon in your hand, anything seemed possible.
As she rode back to the cottage, she sorted out the order of her actions in her head. Their saddlebags were stashed under the bed and she was grateful it wouldn’t be too difficult to pack their few belongings. Daisy and Jimmy should be occupied with each other up in their room. She only hoped she didn’t meet Gaffie in the dark.
At the cottage, she hitched the horses to the rail out front and unlocked their door. Eilidh rushed to greet her and she fussed over the dog. “We’re off on a new adventure, Eilidh. Let me pack first, and there is something else I must do before we leave.”
She worked by the light of one candle and soon had all their belongings in the battered leather bags. Then she called the terrier to heel and closed the cottage door one final time. With the saddlebags fastened behind each saddle, they were ready to depart; there was just one last thing she needed to do.
There was someone else at the Dancing Sow in dire need of rescue.
Alice told Eilidh to stay with the horses. Her heart raced as she approached the back door to the kitchen. She lifted the handle, pushed it open a fraction, and stole a glance inside. The room beyond seemed empty. Gaffie must be in the main room since she was running the bar on her own this evening. Now was her chance.
Alice crept across the floor to the large fire. The turnspit dog was asleep, its ugly head resting on stout paws as he took a brief respite from his hours of running. Alice laid a hand on his head and ruffled his ears.
“Wake up, sleepy—time to leave. No more running, I promise, not unless you want to.”
He opened one eye and blinked as she wrapped her arms under his body and picked him up. Then Alice carried him to the door. She refused to leave without him. Every dog, no matter how ugly, deserved the chance to be loved. As though he sensed freedom, the grateful little dog licked her face.
“Toby,” she whispered to him. “I shall call you Toby.”
Alice placed the dog in front on her saddle and climbed up behind him. She hoped Eilidh would forgive the infraction, but she couldn’t make the other dog run behind the horses after his life spent running in a wheel. Eilidh yipped and ran on ahead, happy to bound through the dark after being shut in the cottage.
With the reins to the other horse in one hand, Alice guided her mount out the courtyard and left Seabrook behind. Through the night she rode, grateful for the company of the two small dogs. There was something about the soft snuffles from Toby and Eilidh’s excited yips that made the dirt road less lonely.
Toby leaned into her and occasionally looked up, as though he had never seen the countryside before. He reminded her of herself when Aunt Maggie had taken her to Scotland. It had been hard for her mind to grasp that she could run in any direction without hitting the stone walls of her prison.
As she headed southwest towards London, she soon spotted the marker stone. Waist high, it had the number sixty-three carved into the old stone and denoted the distance to London. She slid to the ground and placed the turnspit dog on the soft grass. Her heart beat loud in the silence as she waited. The horses dropped their heads and appeared to doze.
Toby and Eilidh sniffed noses and gave cautious wags of respective tails. Alice hoped they would become friends; at least Toby would no longer labour all day without so much as a thank-you pat. He had a pack now, who would share whatever they had with him. Alice sat on the damp grass, lost in her own thoughts.
Eilidh gave a soft yip and stared off into the night. Alice rose and placed a hand on the marker stone. She glanced at the dog, who seemed to gaze at something as yet unseen. It could be anyone, but given the dog’s reaction, it was someone they knew.
Two blue stars punctuated the dark and approached along the tree-lined road. Eyes turned into a muzzle and midnight fur of the enormous wolf. It sat on the road, several feet away from Alice and the small dogs.
Alice felt no fear, for this was Ewan in a different form. Her protector who had guarded a tiny piece of her through her long nightmare and kept that spark safe until recently. She approached with a hand extended.
The wolf nuzzled her palm and then nudged her hand along its face. Her fingers caressed over its sides and through its silky fur. Alice knelt next to the animal and leaned into its warm sides. She buried her face into ebony fur.
“Thank you for protecting the fragment of my soul,” she whispered.
Eilidh bounded over and then slid to a stop before the wolf. She lowered her head and eyes as she edged closer to her mistress.
“Be nice to Eilidh,” Alice murmured.
The wolf blew a sigh, then leaned down and licked the terrier’s face.
Toby, emboldened by the family bonding occurring, crept forward to sit by Alice’s heels. The wolf cocked its head to one side and glanced from ugly Turnspit dog to Alice.
The night shimmered as fur broke apart and reformed into a naked Ewan.
“You stole the kitchen dog?” he said as he stood and held out a hand to Alice.
“I prefer to think of it as liberating the prisoner.” She rose and kissed him. She tried to keep the kiss gentle, for while his face seemed improved, he still bore the scratches and bruises from his encounter with Forge.
Ewan chuckled but didn’t break contact with her li
ps. “I love you, Alice. Whatever spell you have cast, you have bewitched me completely.”
Alice’s heart soared as he repeated his declaration. She could abandon herself to this man; he would protect her if she needed it or stand beside her.
Then other thoughts crowded into her mind and she broke the kiss. As much as she wanted all of him pressed against her, the most dominant thought was getting their family to safety and tending to his wounds. “We had better keep moving. The rest of Forge’s gang might come looking for us.”
Ewan stroked her cheek. For once, he didn’t hide the play of emotion on his face and worry was written between his brows. “I found Crufts. If he harmed you—”
She kissed his palm and silenced him. “He didn’t. I doubt I was the first woman he tried to rape, but I made sure I was the last.”
He placed a kiss on her forehead. “You are a remarkable woman. I could not have succeeded tonight without you removing the bullet from my leg.”
“Will you ride or run back to London? If you plan to ride, you might want to consider clothes to stop any chafing,” she murmured as her fingers ran along his naked shoulders.
He laughed. “I will ride, so that we can talk.”
Ewan gathered his clothes from the saddlebags and dressed.
Alice picked up Eilidh and placed her in front of her saddle. Then she picked up Toby and handed him to Ewan. “Ewan, this is Toby. Toby, this is Ewan. I think Toby has done quite enough running for a lifetime, so he gets to ride.”
Ewan climbed into the saddle and tucked the ugly dog next to him. “I see we have our own pack already. You are an extraordinary woman, and my mother would have loved you.”
Alice nudged her heel against the horse’s warm sides. “It was your mother who asked me to help you.”
Ewan frowned as they headed along the road towards London. “You are mistaken. My mother is dead.”
“While my gift is not the ability to converse with shades, if a spirit is seeking something strongly enough, I can sense them.” She patted Eilidh. So much had changed since the puppy was thrust into her arms.