The Witch Watch (6 page)

Simon opened his mouth and closed it again, apparently stunned by the offer. “But surely they’ll run you down?”

“Probably. But I don’t imagine you’ll be of much help to me if it comes to that. Better that one of us should escape, and you’re the one with the knowledge to help poor Sophie.”

Simon seemed encouraged by this line of thought. He straightened himself up. “I don’t see how you can hope to lead them away. Surely you’ll be cut down the moment you set foot outside the church.”

“Yes. I’ll need to find some other way of leaving this place.” Gilbert explored the building once again, hoping to find some detail he’d overlooked before. The windows were another possible exit, but then he considered the time it would take to smash one open. (Which was something he was reluctant to do; quite aside from the sacrilege, he adored stained glass windows.) By the time he broke it open and hoisted himself out, the enemy would be onto him. Likely as not he’d just end up shot while hanging halfway out of the window.

It was a very small church, and his search did not take long. It ended in the belfry, with him looking up at the pinch of starry sky that was visible at the top. “I’m going to leave this way,” he said to Simon. He began climbing.

The belfry was narrow, and he was able to climb it by bracing himself against opposing walls. He was careful to avoid getting caught on the rope, as he didn’t want to give away his plan by simply ringing the bell. The bell itself was quite small, perhaps only half again the size of a family cooking pot. Simon stood beneath him and watched his progress until the rain of dust and splinters drove him off.

Gilbert reached the top. Since he was looking down to watch his footing, he cracked his head against the bell. The note rang clearly in the night air, rolling out far beyond the borders of the town. He cursed loudly. Now that he was at the top, he could see that the openings were not as large as he had assumed. They were quite narrow, only just barely large enough to allow him passage.

He hoisted himself up and looked out through the bell windows. Directly below was the church roof. It was a short enough drop, although if he tumbled off he would fall into the street where he would then be smashed against the stony ground and (probably) shot. However, if he could keep his footing he could cross the roof and perhaps leap to the adjacent building, which looked like it might be stables. Although, it was difficult to be sure in the dark. From there he might gain a horse (assuming this was the stables and also assuming horses were kept there at the moment and that there would be a saddle handy) and ride out of town. The Witch Watch would ride after him. Perhaps he could abandon his horse after a mile or so and double back, leaving his pursuers in confusion.

It was a ridiculous plan, filled with holes, and most likely doomed to fail. The alternative was climbing back down and waiting for his foes to attack on their own terms.

He pulled himself up and out of the not-quite-Gilbert-sized opening, and became stuck. He flailed his feet, struck the bell again with his heel, and tumbled out headfirst. There was a great impact. He landed on his back, more or less. This was followed by a short drop and a rain of debris. Gilbert found himself suddenly back inside the church, looking up at the sky through a fresh hole in the roof.

“Are you all right, Gilbert?” Simon rushed to his side.

“At least I didn’t break any of the windows.”

Alice stood behind the church with Captain Turpin. She was looking up at the bell and trying to make sense of the events so far.

Last night they had tracked the abomination to this town. Her ethergram pointed unmistakably at the church, meaning it was hiding somewhere inside. When morning came the captain had advised the locals to stay away, and they were more than happy to hide indoors and leave the problem for the Witch Watch to handle.

The church had been silent until a quarter of an hour ago, when they heard some sort of scuffling inside. Then the bell was rung once, followed by profanity, a second ring, and a loud boom. They had hurried around the church, expecting some sort of ambush or wizardry, only to find it quiet again.

“If he’s trying to get away, he’s taking an odd way around,” Captain Turpin said.

Jack, the Captain’s second, joined them. He had been left to watch the side door but curiosity over the ringing bell had evidently drawn him here. “Is that something on the roof?” he asked, pointing to a spot beside the belfry.

Alice squinted, and made out a dark spot there. She drew close to the church and discovered a shingle. She held it up for the others to see in the lantern light. “It’s not something on the roof. It’s a hole.”

“What do you make of that?” asked Turpin. “Can’t fathom the use of blowing holes in the roof of the church. The walls, maybe. But not the roof.”

“We should go in,” Alice said firmly. “Unless we mean to stand out here while he tears the building down a beam at a time.”

“These folk are scared enough already,” said Turpin, meaning the townsfolk that were peering out the windows at them. “They don’t want any bloodshed in the church and I have to say I agree with them.”

“We’re destroying an abomination. There won’t
be
blood,” she said patiently.

The captain lowered his voice. “I know the men used to give you difficulty on account of you being a woman. But those days are long past. You’ve proven your worth and sundry, and nobody questions your dedication. You’re like a brother to them, if you take my meaning.”

“I don’t think I do,” she whispered back, slightly irritated.

Archer - the other member of their foursome - walked into view, leading their horses. He had been out front, where the captain had ordered him to stay with the horses. This was apparently his way of obediently abandoning his post so he could see what everyone else was doing.

The Captain gave a sidelong glance in Archer’s direction. “I’m saying you don’t need to demonstrate your courage by advising rashness. The men would lay down their lives for you, but there’s no reason to make them do so tonight. Mordaunt will come out sooner or later. Better we keep him bottled up and make him fight his way out than the other way around.”

“It’s not rashness,” she hissed back. “I just don’t see the sense in allowing him time to prepare some devilry for us.”

“Look!” Jack shouted.

Alice looked up and saw a black-cloaked figure fleeing from the church, where the side-door was left hanging open.

“Did nobody hold their post at the doors?” Turpin boomed. He shouted for everyone to rally, but there was little need. All of them were standing together, having come to see the business with the roof.

The abomination rushed through the pasture, heading for the trees on the far side. Archer took a shot - an act of absurd optimism given the distance and darkness. The captain and Jack mounted their horses, and the chase was on.

“That way,” Alice said to Archer. “The captain will try to drive him back here so we can close in around him. Let’s just hope we can fight him in the pasture and that he doesn’t make for the village.”

Even as she spoke, the abomination began doing exactly that. When it saw it was going to be overtaken, it turned sharply and made for the relative shelter of the nearby houses.

“Why doesn’t it use magic?” Alice wondered aloud as she ran.

“I think it is. Look at how fast it’s running!” answered Archer.

They were fortunate to have the moon on their side tonight. It shone on the fields and village with enough strength to cast shadows. The abomination could not hide easily, despite its dark cloak. It ran through an orchard, staying close to the trees to prevent the horses from drawing too near. Then it climbed over a fence that the captain did not dare on horseback, and so broke away just before they ran him down.

The Witch Watch scattered and combed through the town while the inhabitants cowered inside. Alice heard a woman scream. Thinking the abomination had been found, she hurried towards the sound only to discover that the woman had simply been startled by Archer moving past her window.

Alice consulted the ethergram. As before, the needle was still slightly inclined to point towards the abomination. It was not strong, and she had to hold very still to see the movement. This was difficult because she was winded. When the needle settled down, it seemed to be pointing away from the area where the men were hunting. Had the abomination doubled back? She turned and went around the nearby house. Now the needle was moving quickly. She thought this might be a malfunction, but this might also happen if it was extremely close.

A black shape rushed in front of her and she cried out. It wheeled to face her. She had no time to draw a weapon, and so in a panic she simply held out her hand and unleashed fire. The abomination spun again, shielding itself from the flame with its cloak. Then it fled, still burning, towards the road.

Her cry drew the attention of the others, and soon they were closing in around it, a specter of flame and smoke rushing through the night.

The abomination threw itself down in the dust and beat out the flames. By the time it rose again, the horses had caught up with it. Alice watched as the captain tried to hew it with his sword, but their foe was unexpectedly crafty. It stayed in front of the captain, using the horse’s head as a shield. Turpin turned quickly and swung, but the abomination ducked the blow and slapped the horse’s hindquarters, sending it galloping forward. Turpin cursed as his mount carried him away from the battle.

Jack rode forward and struck true. His sword landed between its shoulder blades, and the abomination fell on all fours.

Alice threw up her arms in frustration. “The head! What are you doing? You ass! Take off the head!” She was shouting at Jack with the tone of a governess scolding foolish children.

The abomination stood up, still with Jack’s sword driven into its back and protruding from its chest. It looked down at the blade curiously. The sword had been thrust in from above, so the hilt hovered over its head like a flagpole.

“Extraordinary,” it said. “I’m still alive.” There was a pause while it tried to expel the blade by pushing on the tip. “Well, you know what I mean,” it added.

Archer ran up beside Alice, panting and coughing. He bent forward with his hands on his knees, trying to ask what was going on between gasps.

The Witch Watch looked on, dumbfounded, as the abomination lurched around, trying to pull the sword free. It reached up and gripped the hilt, awkwardly pushing and pulling, wiggling the blade back and forth. After much muttering and staggering about, it withdrew the blade.

Turpin, having recovered control of his horse and dismounted, approached with his own sword in his hand.

The abomination drew back its hood, revealing a grim, yet smiling skull. Only a few ragged strands of hair remained. It looked at Captain Turpin. “I see you mean to put me to the sword. Before you do, might I ask you what crime I’ve committed?”

“You’re an abomination!” the captain spat.

“Abomination is such a harsh term. I prefer to think of myself as an affront,” it replied.

“Mock all you like, Your Lordship,” Captain Turpin said coldly, “We’ll soon have you back in your proper grave.”

“Very good. I was in the wrong grave the last time I was dead. I’m not the Lord Mordaunt.”

“You can claim to be whoever you like. You’re still going back to the grave.”

The abomination then turned his sword around and offered it back to Jack. “Very well,” it said, “I surrender. But before you further dull your sword on my ribs, perhaps I can give you news that will be to your advantage.”

This struck Alice as exceptionally strange. In all her years with the Witch Watch, there had never been an abomination that behaved this way. Some were murderous beasts. Some were mindless and wandering, and still others might be cunning but mad. But the idea that one would surrender to them was preposterous.

“You’ll find your lies in small demand here, your Lordship. Or whoever you claim to be.”

“He’s telling the truth,” said Alice. “At least, he’s not Lord Mordaunt.”

“You saw the empty tomb yourself, Miss,” the captain reminded her.

She approached their foe. In earlier days they would have forbidden her, or told her to shut up, or insisted that this was too dangerous. But they now trusted her to know her business. “I’ve heard that the Viscount was a short, bald man, thin and fragile. And yet this one is absurdly tall, broad even in death, and still has remnants of a young head of hair. And if that is not enough to persuade you, have any of you heard of an English Gentleman talking with such a coarse accent. I can’t place it. It almost sounds American.”