Bloody Good Read online

  He opened the door and stepped into the warm, close atmosphere of the public bar and immediately wished he’d settled for the lounge next door. But his sources insisted the public bar was where working men gathered.

  Only the British could divide up a beer house into social strata and here he was, Gerhardt Eiche, in the bottom of the pile. And it was busy. As he closed the door behind him and looked around an elderly man in a group of four of five nodded and said, “Evening.”

  Eiche nodded back, aware of the scrutiny as he crossed to the bar. The mortals were curious. He chuckled. How they’d gape in shock and drool their tepid beer down their wagging chins if they knew what walked in their midst. Smiling, Eiche strolled over to the bar and ordered—as his trainers had taught—a half pint of bitter.

  That drew attention.

  “Cautious drinker, are you then?” the publican asked with an impudent grin on his fat red face. “Just a half?”

  “Thank you, yes.”

  “Right you are.” He picked up a heavy dimpled mug, smaller, Eiche noticed, than those everyone around seemed to hold, and nudging it under the tap, slowly pulled the wooden lever and filled the mug with dark, amber liquid. “Here you are,” he said, dabbing the bottom of the mug on a spread towel before setting it in front of Eiche.

  Eiche nodded and picked it up. Might as well have a taste. It wasn’t quite as bad as he expected. “Good health,” he said, raising his mug to the publican and taking another taste.

  “And to you, sir,” the man replied. “Now, would you be paying, or d’you want me to set up a tab for you, Mr. Oak?”

  A mortal would have choked on his beer. Eiche swallowed and looked up. “A tab? You give strangers credit?” No wonder the country was ripe for invasion. And come to that, how in Hades did the man know his name?”

  “Good heavens no, sir. Wouldn’t stay in business if I did that now, would I? No, but we all know you’re poor Miss Waite’s nephew. Right lucky she was that you happened to be here when she needs you. Not what you’d planned on when you came down here, though, is it?”

  The man had no idea. “I’m very glad I’m here right now.” No lie that. “But if you’d be so obliging as to set me up a tab, I’d be most grateful.” And would never need to settle up.

  “Put it on mine, Fred.”

  Eiche stared at the gray-haired and upright man and remembered to smile through his surprise. Mortals! Sometimes you just couldn’t predict them! “Well, thank you. To whom do I owe my thanks?”

  “I’m Howell Pendragon, and you’re very welcome. We met in the village a couple of days back.” Yes, Eiche remembered the invitation to drill with the Home Guard. “On recuperation leave if I remember rightly?”

  The man didn’t offer his hand, just a smile and a very pointed question. Eiche’s answer came as learned. “Yes.” He lowered his voice. “I was supposed to report in a couple of days, but now Aunt Jane is laid up, I’ll putting things off if I can. War or no war, she can’t be left alone.”

  “Don’t worry about that, young man. Between the doctor and Nurse Prewitt, they’ll take care of things. You just go ahead and do your bit.”

  He intended to, just not quite in the way this old geezer meant.

  And besides, Eiche decided to take a risk in a crowded place and sent a mind probe his way and found a wall. The old man shrugged and shook his head as if shaking off flies, but that was all. His mind was impenetrable. What in the name of Hades was he? A fellow vampire? He’d been warned he might encounter one. But no. This man smelled of the living. So what was he? He’d find out. In time the entire village would be his.

  All he had to do was accomplish his mission.

  “That’s grand,” he replied, putting on the concerned but relieved nephew act. “I’ve been so worried about her. She’s so frail and at her age…”

  The old man laughed. “She’s not so old. And don’t you let her hear you call her frail. She’d like as not thump you one with her crutches if you try suggesting she’s old and helpless. Your aunt dug out for her Anderson shelter all by herself. Accepted help to assemble it, she did, then covered it over all on her own. Even went out to the woods and dug up some wild blackberry canes and planted on top of it.”

  Not what Eiche really wanted to hear. He gave a laugh. “Sounds like Aunt Jane. Ever the tartar. I bet she was one strict teacher.”

  “A teacher, was she?” The landlord intruded in the conversation. “Not around here, though. Where did she teach?”

  Damn! Not a detail he’d memorized. “Up North.” Shit! As a loving nephew he was supposed to know these things. “A village out on the moors.” There were moors up in the North of England, weren’t there? How dare these mortals be so inquisitive!

  “Yorkshire?” Howell Pendragon asked.

  “Yes, Yorkshire.” It was the biggest county in England so should be the safest bet.

  “To hear her speak, you’d never guess she was from Yorkshire,” the landlord said, reaching for a glass from the overhead rack.

  “True,” intruded another man standing on Eiche’s left. “I always thought Miss Waite was from Kent. Don’t you remember how she got all het up with the vicar’s wife over the ‘Men of Kent’ and ‘Kentish Men’ business?”

  For appearance’s sake, Eiche joined in the general laughter. Although what was so hilarious was quite beyond him.

  “Something to do with the Medway, wasn’t it?” Fred the landlord said and took down another glass. “All due respect to Miss Waite,” he added. “She’s a nice lady, but you can tell she was a schoolmistress.”

  In the ensuing chatter, Eiche drank his beer.

  “Staying long?” the second man asked.

  Questions, endless questions! Like all peasants they were curious about newcomers. This he’d been briefed for. “Originally just a couple of weeks, but now my aunt is laid up…”

  Howell Pendragon said, “Now the doctor and Nurse Prewitt have a new assistant there will be plenty of people to keep an eye on her.”

  “A new assistant?” The man from the left intruded again. “First I’ve heard of that.”

  “Oh, he’s coming alright. Starting Monday. Just met him myself. He’s being billeted on me. Nice, quiet chap,” the old man replied.

  “Must be the same one Barron was on about. Said we were going to have a part-time first aid chap.” The speaker had a narrow face, pointed chin, and sharp nose. He reminded Eiche of a rat. “We’ll need more than first aid unless we’re lucky.” He paused and took a swig of his beer. “I caught another damn girl today wearing her engagement ring around her neck. Docked her pay for it, I did. Honest, this job.”

  Pendragon gave a noncommittal grunt. Eiche held back the smile. So, it was a munitions plant. Had to be. Where else would wearing metal be a safety hazard? “Some workers never learn, do they?”

  “My lot don’t. Bunch of useless giggling girls. I tell Barron he’s far too soft with them. If he docked their pay and cut their leave a bit more often they’d shape up right enough.” He took another drink while leaning on the bar for support. “But I don’t run the plant. Would be damn sight different it I did.”

  “Let me buy you a drink.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” He drained his mug and set it down on the polished counter with a thump. “Thanks.”

  Eiche turned to his right. “Sergeant Pendragon, may I get you one?”

  Pendragon shook his head. “Another time, thank you. I must be off.” With a nod to the landlord, he left.

  “Standoffish lot these villagers. Bunch of proper snobs if you ask me.” The man seemed oblivious to the dozen or so villagers within earshot. Or maybe he was so drunk he didn’t care. “I’m Jeff Williams. Stuck here in the back of beyond and delighted to make your acquaintance.” The slurred speak was unmistakable.

  “Gabriel Oak. Visiting my aunt who had the misfortune to break her leg.”

  Williams scowled. “What’s a man your age doing out of uniform? You’re not one of those bloody consc
ies, are you?”

  That was easy to deny. “Wounded at Dunkirk. I’m here on leave to recuperate.”

  Another scowl. Thinking was obviously quite an effort for this specimen of humanity. “Wounded, eh? Which of the forces?”

  “Army. Hampshire Regiment.”

  “Rotten luck getting shot up, if you ask me.”

  Eiche had no intention of asking his opinion, just of using him. “Sounds as though you have a rough job.”

  “It’s hell! Nothing but stupid women jabbering on and crying when you tell them to take their earrings off. Then they all get to carrying-on together and fussing and wiping each other’s tears. Proper argey bargey.” He paused to down a good quarter of the pint. “Still beats shoving bayonets in people’s guts.”

  “Been here long?” As he asked, Eiche sensed the landlord seemed unduly interested in the conversation.

  “Too bloody long. Arrived just before last Christmas. Mucked up the holiday something proper it did.”

  “I bet it did.” Yes, the damn landlord was far too interested. “Tell you what. I’ve been on my feet all day, let’s go and sit in that corner.” Far enough and out of the way enough to pump this foolish mortal in private until he spilled the beans and more.

  It only took two more beers.

  The man was scarcely able to stand but Eiche knew for certain the establishment he’d been sent to investigate, and destroy, was a munitions manufactory with a staff that worked three shifts around the clock producing for the war effort. Rendering it inoperative would be a pleasure and the loquacious, disgruntled assistant supervisor would be the perfect tool.

  Eiche needed to know more about the running of the place and who worked where and when. Not that he had any qualms about killing the workers. The fewer inhabitants left in the way of invasion, the better.

  “It’s been grand meeting someone from outside Brytewood,” Eiche said as he stood. “Hate to go, but I’ve got an old aunt to visit in hospital.”

  For some reason the fool mortal thought that amusing. Would he laugh at fangs in his neck? Later. For now, he did have an old aunt to take care of and the old cow still had a role to play in service to the Reich.

  “See you around,” the man said, or rather slurred.

  “Oh, yes.” Eiche would make sure of it.

  “Sorry to bother you so late,” Howell said as Helen Burrows opened the back door to him. “Alright if I come in a minute?”

  “Of course.” She opened the door wide and he stepped into the warm kitchen. “Something wrong?” She was canny. Probably smelled it on him. “You need to see Alice? She’s doing paperwork.”

  “No, don’t bother her. I came to see you.”

  Chapter 10

  “Come on in then.” She shut the door behind him. “Give me your coat and have a seat. I’d just finished the dishes and was about to sit down with a cup of tea but would you rather have a beer or coffee?”

  “I’ve just come from the Pig,” he said as he took off his coat. “Coffee would be perfect. If you can spare it.”

  She chuckled. “I’ve a secret bottle of Camp coffee. Alice goes on so if I get things under the counter but once in a while, I treat myself.”

  He took an easy chair by the fire, stretched his feet out in front of him, and leaned back against the pillows. Now he was actually here, his idea of confiding his concerns to Helen Burrows seemed utterly loony. But who else could he tell? If he shared his suspicions with anyone else in the village, he’d be carted off in a padded van.

  Would Helen Burrows have the same reaction? He sensed not. There was an Otherness about her that led him to believe she wouldn’t scoff when he started talking about a dead man walking the village streets. Howell watched as she put cups in saucers, measured out the thick dark coffee, and poured on water from the kettle. “Milk and sugar?” she asked.

  “No sugar. I gave it up when they started rationing.” Not quite true—he still had it at home, but wasn’t about to deplete anyone else’s ration.

  “So did Alice. I still indulge,” she replied with a smile in his direction. “Sure you won’t?”

  “No, thank you. Just milk.”

  He took a sip after she handed it to him. “Delicious.” He watched as she settled herself in the chair opposite and tasted her coffee.

  “Mmm,” she said looking up at him over the rim of the cup. “What a treat. Everyone needs a little indulgence once in a while.” She put her cup back in the saucer. “How did you get on with our new young man? Everything alright?”

  “Oh, yes, fine. I’ll enjoy his company. I miss Gryffyth. Not that I saw him that often, but he would always call me. All I get now are letters written on those army forms.”

  “Same with Simon and Allan. Worse with Simon really, just those Red Cross forms and he can’t go a word over the limit. Still, one has to hope, doesn’t one?”

  “It’s already been more than a year. So much for ‘All be over by Christmas.’”

  She gave a tight dry laugh. “They said that the last time. Look how long it went on.” She took another sip of coffee. “Well, Howell, you didn’t come here to complain about the government and your young billet is not a problem. So is something wrong?”

  Might as well jump in and get on with it. “Maybe. Could just be an old man’s imagination.”

  “That I doubt! You wouldn’t leave the Pig early and ride your bicycle up this hill for something you imagined.”

  She was right there. “Bear with me. Hear me out.” He took a long drink to fortify himself. “What would you say to a man who tries to invade people’s minds?” It was out.

  “Here in Brytewood?”

  He nodded. Heart racing and mind soaring. She didn’t think him utterly moonstruck. Or did she and she was humoring him? He nodded. “That new chap who claims to be Miss Waite’s nephew.”

  “You say claims? You think he isn’t?”

  She had to be humoring him but what matter? He’d gone this far. “He said she was from Yorkshire. She told me she’d taught in a girl’s school in Faversham.”

  She nodded. “I’d heard that, too.”

  So far so good. He’d plow on. “She has this fall right after this nephew arrives. Alright, people do fall down stairs, but Miss Waite is neither frail nor doddery. Perhaps he just made a mistake over where she lived. But I tell you, Helen—” He permitted himself the familiarity. He was making a fool of himself after all. “I bought him a beer and while we stood there talking, he tried to pry into my mind.”

  Now was her turn to scoff, ask him how the heck he knew. Tell him he was blabbering.

  She did none of them.

  Little tight creases appeared between her brows as she shook her head. “I haven’t seen him. Tell me what he looks like.”

  Not what he’d expected but…“Tall, looks about thirty or so, waffled a bit over what he was doing for the war, dark eyes and hair, pale skin.”

  “Dark hair you say? Black? Brown?”

  “Dark brown. Much like Gryffyth’s to be told.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not him,” she said half to herself. “There must be two of them.”

  “Two?”

  She nodded. “Yes, whatever they are. Remember the man Alice found up in Fletcher’s Woods? The one you helped us get into the surgery? He had no aura. No life force. Alice said his heartbeat was slow. Very slow. That was what had her worried. And a few hours later, he disappeared. Had to have walked out under his own steam.”

  “But it’s not the same man. The injured one was fair, and younger than this so-called nephew.” He only half-credited they were having this conversation. She not only believed him, she acted as if this conversation was perfectly normal.

  “Then there are two of them. One appears to be hiding or has left the neighborhood. The other seems to be digging in. I wonder what they’re up to?”

  “Or what they really are?”

  A coal shifted in the grate, and a sudden squall sent rain against the window as they both
thought on that one.

  “We can’t tell Jones or anyone, I don’t think. Not yet at any rate. They’ll think we’re a pair of senile old fools.”

  She was right but…“We’ve got to do something. What if they are some sort of spies? Or at the very least this Oak chap means harm to Miss Waite?”

  “You’re right, but we have to be sure what we’re dealing with. If they’re something more than normal, what can the law or even the Army do against them?”

  “Come to that, what can we do?”

  “More than anyone will ever guess. What are you, Howell?”

  “I’m your friend, Helen.”

  She snorted. “You’re Other. I’ve know it for years. That you can sense a mind probe proves it. If we’re going to sort this odd business out together, I need to know what you are.”

  His chest clenched. He’d never, ever admitted this to another living soul—except Gryffyth when the lad was approaching puberty and about to enter his own powers. This would get him laughed at. Or would it? She’d accepted everything so far and she was no mere human either. “I’m a Dragon.”

  She stared, lips parted, eyes wide as she gasped. “A true Welsh Dragon of the hills.” It was not a question. “I heard speak of them but never thought I’d live to make one a cup of coffee.”

  “I never thought to sit here and admit it aloud.”

  “Not the sort of thing ones brings up at a parish whist drive is it?”

  Hardly. “And you?” Might as well ask and satisfy his curiosity. “What are you?”

  “Nothing so impressive as a Dragon, I’m afraid, but we have our uses and strengths. I’m a Devon Pixie. Full-blooded. My parents were, so was my husband, Jonathan. Alice’s mother inherited all our strengths. But she married a garden human.”

  “And the doctor?” This he had to know.

  Helen shook her head, frown lines creasing her forehead. “She’s strong but refuses to believe it. Thinks it’s all a bunch of superstition and old tales.”

  “What a pity. We could use another. I think our intruder will take some besting.”

  “I’ve tried. Maybe between us we can convince Alice.”