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  He’d meet her again and enjoy himself next time. Schmidt smiled at the prospect. And shivered with the cold. He need warm blood tonight. Fresh warm blood was what he needed to counteract the pain of his immersion and there was a mare waiting for him in the stables.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mary rode away as if the devil were at her heels. She wasn’t too sure he wasn’t. Going downhill a good bit of the way only added to her speed, the wind was cold on her face but she scarcely noticed it. Putting distance between herself and the glimpse of nightmare had occupied her totally. The feeling of panic and urgency lasted until she descended into the village. Once back there, she felt strangely safe. As if she were home again and away from the nasty creature lurking up at Wharton Lacey. As she calmed, she began to worry about Miss Aubin and the people up there. Should she warn them? Would they think she was insane, or drunk?

  She’d worry about that later. Right now all she wanted was to go straight to Gryffyth and the safety of his strong arms. She didn’t even stop at her cottage but raced on past, heading for the Pendragons’.

  At the gate, she rammed her brakes too hard and almost skidded, but steadied herself and dismounted. Pushing open the gate, she wheeled her bicycle up the path and hesitated. Shyness seldom bothered her but suddenly she wasn’t too sure of herself. Was she intruding? Sergeant Pendragon had aways been friendly and courteous but never invited her to his house. On the other hand, his son had just asked her to marry him, so surely she wasn’t intruding. Darn it! She wanted Gryffyth. She propped her cycle against a dustbin and knocked on the door.

  His father opened it. “Who’s there?” he said, from the other side of the blackout curtain. “Alice? You’re early.”

  “It’s Mary LaPrioux.”

  “This is a turnup for the books.” He pulled the curtain aside and grabbed her hand. “Come on in.” He pulled her into the warmth of the kitchen and shut the door. “Now, my dear. What can I do for you?”

  For several long seconds, she had no idea, her throat still tight from fear as she stood there, panting, chest heaving from the exertion. She looked around at the comfort and coziness of the warm kitchen and, to her utter embarrassment, burst into tears.

  Through her sobs, she heard him call, “Gryff, come on down!” as he led her over to the fireplace and sat her down in an easy chair. “Now there, my dear,” he said, “don’t worry. Whatever happened, it’s alright now. Gryff’s coming.”

  She felt a fool, but couldn’t stop sobbing.

  “Mary!” She looked up through her tears and there he was. Her love. Her Gryffyth. She stood, all but pushed past the sergeant and rushed into her lover’s arms. “What the hell happened?” he asked over her head, as he drew her close.

  “Beats me, son. She knocked on the door, came in, and burst into tears. Something happened to upset her.”

  “I can see that, Dad!”

  She had to get hold of herself. “It’s alright. I’m alright now. It was just so…” She couldn’t hold back the shudder.

  “Here, love.” Gryffyth pushed a neatly ironed handkerchief into her hand. “Dry your eyes, and tell me what happened.”

  “You take care of her, son,” the sergeant said. “Don’t you worry, my dear,” he went on. “You just sit down with Gryff. I’ll get you a nice cup of tea and when you calm down you can tell us what happened.”

  She blew her nose and took a deep breath and noticed Gryffyth was in his dressing gown. She wouldn’t think about what he did or did not have on underneath, and made herself not look at his leg. At least the proximity of Gryffyth désha-billé went a long way to settle her nerves. Or rather tweak them in another direction entirely.

  “Here you are.” Sergeant Pendragon put a heavy mug in her hand. “It’s very sweet. You drink it up. Best thing for shock.”

  Sweet wasn’t the word—by the taste of it, he’d put in half their combined sugar ration. The sheer kindness almost had her sniveling again, but she held it back and drank.

  “Mary…” Gryffyth began.

  “Give her a minute, son. She’ll tell us what happened. You drink that up, my dear. Do you the world of good.”

  She was halfway through the mugful. When she looked around her, at the warm, welcoming kitchen, it was so settled, so normal, it made her encounter up at Wharton Lacey seem like a wild figment of her imagination. Maybe that creature had just made a pass at her. Improper, but not the horror she remembered. No, it had been awful. She had not imagined one second of it. She glanced at Gryffyth, sitting so close his warmth seeped into her bones, and at his father, standing by the table, looking worried, and reminded herself she was talking to a pair of Dragons here. They understood about these things. She looked at the sergeant. “Did Gryffyth tell you what I am?”

  He nodded. “That he did.”

  That made one less explanation. “Then hopefully you won’t think I’m loony.”

  “I doubt I would have anyway,” the sergeant replied. “Tell us what happened.”

  She told them.

  “I’ll blast him to smithereens!” Gryffyth said—no, more like yelled. “I’ll fry his hide and incinerate him.”

  Knowing he had the ability to do that—literally—added an extra edge to his threat.

  “Hang on a minute, son. Time enough for that later.” Sergeant Pendragon pulled a chair from the table and sat in front of her. “Mary, can you tell us what he looked like? Height, hair, age. All that.”

  “Yes. Tallish, about as tall as Gryffyth but slender in build. Sandy hair, sort of blond gone dark, if you know what I mean.”

  He nodded. “How old do you think?”

  “Twenties? Thirties? Not middle-aged.”

  “Not dark haired? You’re sure? Couldn’t have been dark, almost as dark as Gryff’s?

  “Oh no, definitely not. Unless it changes, like his eyes. They seemed normal at first, sort of gray blue, but then they almost blazed at me. And his teeth…” She shuddered.

  “So much for the new gardener,” Sergeant Pendragon said. “I sensed there was something Other about him. Now he’s shown his colors. I wonder if he’s one of them.”

  “Christ, Dad!” Gryffyth said, as he held her closer. “Just thinking about one of those creatures having a go at you, Mary, drives me batty.”

  “What creatures?” It was good to know her instincts had served her right, one did need to know what one was dealing with.

  “Vampires.”

  “Vampires?” If it had been anyone but Gryffyth, she’d have laughed at the idea. “They exist?”

  Both men nodded.

  “They do indeed, Mary,” Sergeant Pendragon said. “And for some reason best known to themselves, they’re closing in on Brytewood. In the last couple of months we’ve had two move in. One after the other. Now it seems we have a couple more of them to deal with. Bloody nuisance they are too.” He paused and let out a tsk of exasperation. “Sorry about that, my dear. Just came out.”

  “Don’t apologize. If they’re Vampires, it’s the right adjective.”

  Gryffyth chuckled, pulled her close and pecked her on her cheek. “See what I said, Dad, isn’t she the one for me?”

  Mary couldn’t miss the broad smile on his father’s face. “Better work on convincing Mary you’re the one for her then, son.” He stood up. “Now, seems to me you’d best get your trousers on. Alice’ll be here in ten minutes and Mary, I’ll get you another cup of tea and then you’d best come with us.”

  “Come where?”

  “Up to The Gallop,” Gryffyth replied. “As long as you don’t mind the rest of them knowing what you are.”

  “Now hang on a minute, Gryffyth. I told you. You told your father. Fair enough, but I’m not announcing my nature to the entire village.”

  “Good heavens, no. That wouldn’t do at all!” the sergeant said. “Just a few of us are getting together. Others, like you and us, they have secrets of their own, and have had to deal with Vampires.”

  Oh, my! “More Others?”
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  He nodded.

  “If you’re feeling stunned, my love, join the club. I just learned all this Sunday night. There’s more to sleepy little Brytewood than meets the eye.” If it was the haunt of Vampires, he was dead right. Wrong expression, that. He stood. “Be back in a jiffy, Mary. I wanted to keep you safe from all this, but in light of what just happened, you’re coming with us.”

  He wasn’t exactly asking. “Are you sure it won’t be an imposition?” An extra plate to fill was a hardship these days.

  “You’ll be a welcome addition,” the sergeant said. “You’ve repelled a Vampire. That’s an ability will come in handy. We need you with us.”

  “You’ll just listen and learn what’s been going on,” Gryffyth said. “You won’t have to do anything.”

  “Now come on, Gryffyth. If there’s a Vampire containment project going on in Brytewood,”—had she really actually said that?—“I’m in with everyone else. I’m not a passenger.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he replied.

  She fancied she heard his father chuckle as Gryffyth went out.

  The evening was an eye opener. From Alice Watson’s first surprised “Mary?” as she came in the Pendragons’ back door, and the sergeant’s, “She’s joining us, Doctor. Meet our one and only Water Sprite,” things just got more confusing. But more reassuring.

  To find there were so many Others in the village wasn’t quite the same as being home on Guernsey with her aunts and cousins, but the closest she was likely to encounter on the mainland.

  After explaining to everyone what she knew and didn’t know about being a Sprite, and trying to understand the varied natures of the rest of the group, they sat down to a dinner that featured a hand of roast pork.

  Mary wasn’t the only one salivating at the aroma as Mrs. Burrows placed the roast on the table and invited Peter to do the honors of the carving knife.

  As plates were passed down the table, and dishes of potatoes, carrots and brussels sprouts handed around, Alice said, “In case you’re all thinking Gran has gone against her principles and bought it under the counter, I brought it home. They killed a pig up on Ranmore and offered me a joint. I thanked them profusely and raced it home to Gran.”

  “We’ve one at school,” Mary said. “I think some of the London children will go through trauma when it’s slaughtered. I don’t think they quite get the link between a pig and sausages.”

  “They’ll soon get it when they taste some,” Sergeant Pendragon said. “Are you having it cured?”

  “I’m not sure. I wish I’d arrived early enough to buy a share in it though. A nice ham would have been a treat for Christmas.” Come to that, peace would be nice for Christmas but that seemed a long way off.

  “Mrs. Burrows,” Gloria said, as she reached for a plate. “Your ring!”

  “Yes, my love,” she replied with a wide smile, “Howell and I went shopping this morning.”

  That brought on a wave of congratulations, general good wishes for the future and regrets at the shortage of Champagne in these war-torn days.

  And earned Mary some pointed sidelong glances from Gryffyth. “What do you think?” he whispered.

  “That I’ll let you know.” He was not bulldozing her into a decision. She had enough on her plate already with Vampires, and Pixies, and a Shifter right on top of learning about Dragons.

  “Now,” the sergeant said, once the excitement settled and the gravy boat resumed its way around the table. “Time to get back to business. Mary learned something today.”

  Mary had learned a vast amount in the past twenty-four hours, but knew which specific new knowledge he was referring to. She repeated her nasty experience by the stream at Wharton Lacey.

  “Can you describe, as exactly as you can, what he looks like?” Alice asked. Mary obliged and wished her classes were half as attentive as the group around the table.

  “I think it’s him,” Alice said once Mary had finished. She looked straight at Mary. “The others know this. I’ve seen him twice. Once, when I found him injured up in Fletcher’s Woods, and on Friday night, in Guildford. Seems he’s been working as an emergency fireman, but left suddenly. He went by the name of Paul Smith.”

  “Miss Aubin called him Smith,” Mary said. Of course, it wasn’t exactly an unusual name.

  “I knew there was something about him,” Howell Pendragon said. “Should have had a better look at him. He was lurking at the back of Sir James’s greenhouse.”

  “I wonder what he’s doing up there,” Peter said. “Aside from scaring Mary, that is.”

  “I have an idea,” Mary said. “Miss Aubin mentioned they have a number of government people visiting. There’s even a party coming soon. He could be there to glean information.”

  “Or worse,” Andrew Barron said.

  Gloria picked up on that. “Assassination, you mean?”

  The thought was terrible.

  “Why not?” Andrew went on. “Disposing of key people in the government would be a blow to the country.”

  “And a good move for the enemy,” Gryffyth added. “So, we know where he is and what he’s most likely up to. What now? We cook his goose for him?”

  “It’s not quite that easy,” Gloria pointed out. “They take a lot of killing and it’s messy.” She sounded quite grim.

  “But he backed off from Mary when she drew on her power,” Gryffyth said.

  “Repelling one and actually exterminating are two different matters entirely,” Alice said. “Trust us, Gryffyth. Gloria and I both know, so do Peter and Andrew. Besides, if this is a Vampire, and it seems quite certain that he’s up to no good, we can’t just toddle on up to Wharton Lacey and stake him. Aside from any legal repercussions, it would draw too much attention to ourselves.”

  “Shouldn’t we tell the police if these Vampires are spies of some sort?” Mary asked.

  “Think about it, Mary,” Gloria said. “Imagine the reaction if one of us went up to Sergeant Jones and told him we suspected Vampire spies in the vicinity.”

  She had a point. They’d be laughed out of the village.

  “We don’t know for certain,” Mrs. Burrows said. “But everything points to that. The first one was supposedly the nephew of a woman who was arrested as a spy. She had a radio hidden in her attic.”

  “And later died in rather odd circumstances before they could take her up to London for questioning,” Alice added. “The second one set up shop as a baker, had access to all the gossip and goings on. We do know that they are strong, ruthless, don’t mind who they hurt or injure. And are up to no good.”

  “And were rather fond of attempting sabotage to my munitions plant,” Andrew added.

  “And now there’s more of them,” Gryffyth said. “At least two.”

  “What makes you think that?” Peter asked.

  “I encountered one Monday night. It didn’t match Mary’s description. He was dark-haired and almost swarthy and about my height, and the one up at Wharton Lacey is definitely light-haired.”

  “So, unless they can shift appearance too, we’ve a couple poaching here.” No one disagreed with Peter.

  “Could they shift?” Gloria asked. “I can, and the Pendragons can, but we change completely. It’s not like changing your skin tone or hair color.”

  “I don’t think that’s it,” Mrs. Burrows replied. “Seems to me the one Gryffyth repelled is the selfsame one as scared the living daylights out of Mr. Whorleigh.”

  Mary let out a gasp. “The grocer!”

  “What happened to Sam Whorleigh?” Gryffyth asked, saving Mary the need to ask one more question.

  Mrs. Burrows told them.

  Peter nodded. “Sounds like the same one. The scarring and redness on the face could have been a figment of Whorleigh’s terror, but more likely the result of Gryffyth’s attack the night before.”

  “Wish I’d done him in for good,” Gryffyth muttered, “but he moved so darn fast. He was gone in a flash.”

  “I think th
at makes the whole point,” Peter said. “We’re up against creatures that move like the wind, recover fast and are not easy to corner.”

  “And we have two to deal with,” Alice said. “There’s six of us Others, plus two believing mundanes.” The last she said with a grin at Peter and Andrew. “If we can’t manage with the numbers in our favor, we’re not exerting ourselves.”

  “Would be better with Whorleigh adding his bit,” Mrs. Burrows said. “Drat the man, comes here scared and begging for help, but when I ask him to join us and actually contribute something, he funks out.”

  “He missed a nicer piece of pork than he’s ever had in his shop,” Andrew said. “I wonder what he’s doing?”

  “It’s of little interest to me,” Mrs. Burrows said, “although I intend to give him a piece of my mind tomorrow morning.”

  Sam Whorleigh was propping up the bar of the Pig and Whistle and ordering a second pint. He was in dire need of Dutch courage to venture out into the night and walk home, his bicycle unfit to ride. He’d had to invent a story of theft to explain why Constable Parlett found it bent and twisted near the church. Bicycles weren’t that hard to get hold of, not with his contacts, but it would take a couple of days and a bit of haggling. Meanwhile he faced a walk home.

  He was reluctant to pass the bombed-out vicarage again and hadn’t used the shortcut across the allotments since the morning he’d found Doctor Watson, drunk and surrounded by a miasma of trouble and danger.

  And thinking about the lot up at The Gallop, Mrs. Burrows had as good as commanded his attendance this evening. The old biddy could sing for it. He wanted nothing to do with her. Even if it meant missing a free meal. There was something wrong in the village. He’d sensed it long before this morning, and she was probably causing it. The old bat as much as intimated that she knew what was going on.

  “You look worried, Sam,” Fred Wise, the landlord, said. “Trouble in the shop?”