Tales of the Slayer, Volume II

by Various

  “This,” the major-general said, sweeping his hand toward the man near the window, “is Edward Landers, who claims he has traveled all the way across the Atlantic in search of his ward.”

  Frankie frowned. She didn’t understand why this was amusing. “I’m sure we could find the boy, sir,” she said. “We’re not in the midst of any great battle at the moment.”

  The major-general turned toward Landers. Landers towered over the major-general by half a foot, but the major-general’s square body held a lot more power than Landers’s lanky one.

  “Finding the ward should be even easier than you think, Corporal,” the major-general said, “since Mr. Landers’s ward apparently goes by the name Pauline F. Barnard.”

  Frankie froze. The seizure was involuntary and—fortunately—brief. Pauline F. Barnard—Pauline Francis Barnard—was the name she had been born with. She had kept the Francis and her childhood nickname, Frankie, and used her mother’s maiden name to enlist. Massey. Frank Massey.

  No one could know that Pauline Barnard and Frank Massey were the same person.

  And yet Landers was here, claiming to be her guardian, which was the closest he could probably come to explaining his real relationship with her.

  He had to be her new watcher.

  The last thing she wanted was a new watcher. She knew her job, and besides, no one could take Reed’s place.

  But Reed had warned her that if anything happened to him, another watcher would come. “And,” Reed had said, “he might not be as sympathetic to this course we’ve taken. The Watchers Council believes that women were chosen as slayers for a reason—and one reason was to keep them away from the petty conflicts of mankind’s wars.”

  She had just figured that a new watcher wouldn’t be able to find her, or if he did, he would come to her and they would find a way to keep her in the Army. But if she went with Landers, she would have to go as a woman—in a frilly dress, her hair down.

  She didn’t want to do that. She wanted to fight.

  The major-general had paused. He was looking at her as if her reaction surprised him.

  It probably had. She was sure everyone else had laughed when they learned that Landers was searching for a woman. Landers’s eyes narrowed, and she thought she caught suspicion in them.

  “Why,” she said, trying to figure out how to account for her behavior, “would Mr. Landers believe that a young woman would still be here in Atlanta? Didn’t he know that we evacuated the city in September?”

  Landers blinked, the suspicious look gone.

  The major-general shrugged. “Apparently, Mr. Landers’s ward—”

  “Is an unusual young woman,” Landers said.

  A gasp rose in the room. No one interrupted the major-general, especially not a man with a high voice, a snotty British accent, and a stained suit.

  Landers apparently didn’t notice. “She’s quite strong and rather mannish. I am under the impression that she has enlisted under a male name.”

  Frankie forced herself to laugh even though she had trouble catching her breath. “And you think we wouldn’t know right away that we have a female in our midst?”

  “As I said, she’s quite strong, and—”

  “And unattractive, I’m sure.” Frankie nodded, trying not to let her irritation show. The boys back home hadn’t found her unattractive, back when she wore skirts and her hair was long. “She would have to be, though, wouldn’t she, to hide out as a man?”

  “I told Mr. Landers that we’ve been in the field a long time,” the major-general said. “We’ve seen a lot of combat. A female wouldn’t have made it through the first week at Vicksburg, let alone all the gore we saw in Shiloh.”

  Frankie’s cheeks felt warm. A cliched female might not have made it. Many of the men didn’t either. They said they opposed the major-general’s policies when, in truth, they hadn’t the stomach for them.

  The major-general believed that war needed cruelty. Indeed war thrived upon cruelty. Without cruelty, without utter destructiveness, the major-general felt there would be no call for peace.

  “Pauline is quite unusual,” Landers said. “She knows and handles what you have called ‘gore’ rather well. I’m certain she’s among your ranks. I would simply like a chance to see if she’s here.”

  Frankie stared at him, wondering if she could work with him. She doubted it. Besides, he wouldn’t be able to stay here now, not after telling everyone he was looking for a girl.

  If he stayed beside her, it would take no time at all for the Army to figure out who she was.

  “Doesn’t sound like any female I know,” one of the other aides said.

  “I believe some of you will be startled to discover that you have been serving side by side with Miss Barnard and believing her to be male,” Landers said.

  Of course they would. They would be shocked, especially when they realized she was standing right next to them.

  Frankie had a reputation for being one of the fiercest fighters in Sherman’s Army. He had brought her in as his aide just after Reed died because, he said, he needed warriors beside him. Working directly for the major-general had helped her deal with the grief and the loneliness, but she really felt as if she were living a double life.

  And now that life could end. All because of one man, one man who didn’t understand who she was.

  She had never fit in anywhere like she fit in here. No one questioned her strength. No one tried to treat her as if she could break at any moment. She could cuss and ride a horse properly and shoot a rifle. She could punch a man in the face if he deserved it and smoke cigars when she could afford them.

  “What’s going to happen to this girl when you find her?” the major-general asked.

  “I shall return her to her home,” Landers said. “She’s needed there. She certainly doesn’t need to be here, fighting in a man’s war.”

  He placed an emphasis on the word “man” and Frankie caught the double meaning. Man’s war had nothing to do with the supernatural war she’d been born to fight in.

  But both wars were connected—more closely than she had imagined when she joined up.

  The levity seemed to have bled from the room. Apparently Frankie’s serious reaction and the Major-General’s questions took the humor from the situation.

  “I should like to find her,” Landers said, “and I would appreciate any help you give me including and starting with removal of these irons.”

  “Those irons,” the major-general said slowly, “are a common treatment for spies. I would think, Mr. Landers, that you would come up with a better story for your presence here than the one you have.”

  “I don’t understand how you can believe me a spy,” Landers said. “I am who I say I am. Your men confiscated my travel papers. I—”

  “Describe her.” The words escaped Frankie’s lips before she had time to think.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Miss Barnard,” Frankie said. “If you describe her, we might be able to figure out who she’s masquerading as.”

  She lent the last part of the sentence some sarcasm so that the officers in the room would know she didn’t believe Landers’s story either. This would trip him up, she knew. She’d never seen him before, and he’d never seen her. If anything, he might have had the miniature her father had painted on her sixteenth birthday, but that had been a flattering portrait, with no basis in reality.

  “She’s . . . ah, well. . . she’s rather small boned and delicate, somewhat tall for a woman, with thick brown hair and dark brown eyes.” As Landers spoke, his voice shook.

  “You sound uncertain,” the major-general said.

  “Well, sir, I suspect she would look different after four years with the Army.”

  Someone laughed nearby, but Frankie didn’t look to see who it was.

  “What makes you think she’s here?” Frankie asked.

  “I’ve heard stories about her. People have seen her kill . . . ah . . . the . . . ah . . . enemy, a
nd through those reports, I have tracked her to this place.”

  The enemy. How coy. Frankie’s cheeks felt even hotter. So he’d tracked her through the vampire slayings, not through her female identity, knowing only the Slayer could handle that many vampires for that long.

  She turned to the major-general. “You’re right, sir. This is a ludicrous story, and it’s insulting to think this man believes we are dumb enough to accept it.”

  “You heard my aide, Mr. Landers,” the major-general said. “We aren’t bumpkins, no matter what you people think of us.”

  “I’m not a spy,” Landers said. “I do know my story is outlandish, but it is true. You cannot think I’m a spy because I tell you something you fail to believe.”

  “That’s not why we think you’re a spy,” the major-general said, his tone deceptively light. “We think you’re a spy because you’re British and you’re in the South. It’s no secret, sir, that the English have been looking for a way to regain your so-called colonies. We also know your government has been considering an alliance with the Rebs for some time now. I truly don’t know if you’re spying for your homeland or if you’re working for Jeff Davis, and I don’t care. All I care about is that you’re in my city attempting to disrupt my troops with ridiculous stories and wild searches for phantom women. I have no time for this, and neither do my men.”

  The major-general pulled the cigar from his mouth. The tip had gone out long ago.

  “Take Mr. Landers out of here and send him north as soon as possible. Let someone in the War Department debrief him. I simply don’t have time for this nonsense.”

  The guards standing beside Landers grabbed his arm.

  “You’re making a mistake,” he said as he was being tugged from the room. “You don’t understand the forces you’re dealing with.”

  “And there you have it, men,” the major-general said. “A threat is sometimes as good as a confession. Let’s make certain he’s gone by morning, shall we?”

  He snapped his fingers at one of the other aides, and the man scurried out of the room after Landers and the guards.

  She watched Landers go, his rangy frame hunched in defeat. Her new watcher, the man who would guard her and train her. The educated one, the one who understood the demons and the vampires and the powers of the night.

  The one who thought he was responsible for her, who would record her deeds and make certain she was remembered after her untimely death.

  She felt nothing but relief as they led him out of the room.

  He would most certainly take her out of here and make her stop fighting this war. He was English; he had no idea how important this war was.

  Nor, she suspected, did he know how so many vampires were involved, turning their abilities toward the Confederacy. If anything proved that Jeff Davis’s Army had rot at its core, the vampires did.

  “Well, Corporal,” the major-general said. “This interrogation proved to be more serious than I had expected. All the humor was in the beginning.”

  He was, in his own way, apologizing to her. Frankie plastered a smile on her face before she turned away from the door.

  “It’s all right, sir,” she said. “I wouldn’t have believed anything anyone said about this man if I hadn’t seen him for myself.”

  The major-general nodded. He too stared out the door as if he felt some opportunity had passed him by as well. Or maybe Frankie was reading too much into a situation that for the major-general was just another detail of command.

  “Well,” he said, raising his voice so that it was clear he was speaking to everyone in the room. “You all have some work to do. I plan to muster out of here in two days time. Let’s make certain there’s nothing left to salvage in Atlanta.”

  The aides saluted and headed for the door. Frankie waited, not wanting to rush out, not wanting to feel any temptation to talk to Landers, to find out what his plans for the Slayer really were.

  “Corporal Massey, a word,” the major-general said. His tone had changed from friendly to harsh. Frankie’s mouth went dry. “Close the door.”

  She did, then turned slowly.

  All the humor had left his face. He looked like a hawk, hunting its prey.

  “I understand you got little sleep last night.”

  “I got two hours, sir,” Frankie said. “I figure four hours is a good night, but two is good enough.”

  “You wander many nights.”

  “I’ve found it difficult to sleep, sir. There’s much to do.” She clasped her hands behind her back to prevent them from shaking.

  “I’ve had you followed.” His tone was flat.

  “Sir?” The shock she felt ran all the way through her. He had had her followed? To what purpose? And how had she missed it?

  She had missed it, she knew, because she had been focusing on the vampires, not on men.

  The major-general walked back to the desk and leaned on it. “Your work at the roundhouse last night was impressive.”

  She felt her breath catch. She had not expected him to say that.

  “How many did you kill?”

  “I don’t know, sir,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. She wasn’t sure what the observer had seen. Had he known she was killing vampires? Or did he just know that they were Rebs? “Eighteen. Twenty. Maybe a few more.”

  The major-general nodded. “They come from the countryside, you know.”

  “Sir?” She wasn’t quite following the conversation.

  “Your vampires. They come from somewhere south and east of us.”

  The flush she’d been struggling against all morning burned her face. “You know of vampires, sir?”

  “Every branch of the Union Army is plagued with them,” he said. “We’ve had discussions, General Grant and I, about how to protect our men from them. There’s not much we could do. But it wasn’t much of a problem for me, when all of my compatriots struggled with it. Don’t you find that odd, Corporal?”

  “I find this entire conversation odd, sir,” she said.

  He smiled. “I found the conversation with Edward Landers odd. He’s going to escape, you know.”

  She shook her head. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s no more a spy than you are, Corporal.” The major-general opened his cigar box. “Smoke?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “I believe I’d like that, sir.”

  He handed her a cigar and then scratched one of his box matches across the desk, leaving another sulfur mark. He lit her cigar and then relit his own.

  She puffed, feeling the tobacco hit, adding to her lightheadedness. Maybe she was still dreaming. Maybe she was conjuring this entire scene, after the fight in the roundhouse and her memories of Reed. She was feeling guilty. She would feel guilty about Reed for a long time.

  “If you believe Mr. Landers is innocent, sir,” she said, willing her voice steady, “then why aren’t you helping him find his ward?”

  The major-general took two lazy puffs, then pulled the cigar out of his mouth. “They say I’m crazy, you know. ‘Sherman is not suited to serve.’ That was in all the Eastern papers.”

  She’d heard. She knew all the stories. And she knew why they thought he was crazy. He had a core ruthlessness. He didn’t believe in being a gentleman, especially in battle.

  “Years ago,” she said.

  “Years ago,” he muttered. “Not so many.”

  “We’ve lived lifetimes since then.” She wasn’t sure if she was pleading his case or her own.

  “I served in California in the Mexican War. Did you know that, Corporal?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  “Have you ever been to California?”

  “No, sir.”

  The major-general smiled faintly, as if her answer surprised him. “I met a young girl during my posting. Delicate thing, strong as an ox. Stronger maybe. She saved my life once.”

  Frankie felt her breath catch. The cigar suddenly tasted foul. She pulled it from her mouth and struggled not to
cough.

  “The vampires come from the countryside,” the major-general said again. “And there’s a lot of them.”

  She shivered.

  “But I have a plan.”

  She suspected as much. She was to set Landers free and leave with him, returning to the life everyone expected her to live. She would have no choice now. She would have to go north and wear skirts once again.

  “Tonight, when you patrol, mark the nests.”

  She had so expected him to say something else, that for a moment she wasn’t certain what he had said. “Sir?”

  “Mark the nests. Don’t wade into them on your own. I’ve finally got my confirmation back from Grant. We’re leaving Atlanta in two days, and before we go, we’re to burn everything of military value in the city. We’ll start with the nests.”

  She gaped at him. She couldn’t help herself. She had never been so shocked in her life.

  “Then we’ll head for Savannah. We’re abandoning our supply lines and living off the land instead. I promised the president Savannah as his Christmas present. I think I might be able to do that.”

  The major-general took the cigar from her hand. He stubbed out the burning tip.

  “Wasting good tobacco there,” he said. “This probably isn’t the right time for a smoke anyway.”

  But he didn’t put his out.

  “As we move south, I’m sure we’ll find more nests. We’ll burn them, too. In the daylight, when they can’t get us.”

  He looked at her. She still couldn’t move. Reed had warned her that others knew about vampires. She just hadn’t expected it from the major-general, although she should have. He had that ruthlessness, the same kind that she had. The kind that got the job done.

  “Fire does destroy them, doesn’t it, Corporal?” he asked.

  He raised his eyebrows, and she realized he expected her to answer him.

  “Yes, sir. Yes, it does.”

  He was making plans, just like Reed used to. Directing her efforts, making them stronger. Better.

  “Good,” the major-general said. “Then we’ll burn our way south. We will get more of them that way. Pity that we won’t get credit for all of this.”

  “I don’t need credit, sir.”