David crawled out of the pantry into the dining room and brushed the dust from his hair.
Hannah was happy to escape that nightmarish tunnel and enjoyed the respite. She sat on a chair and adjusted her auburn hair in the ribbon. After a minute or so, she recollected the strange goings on with a ponderous furrow knitted into her brow. “Captain.”
“Yes, dear?” David had taken a seat at the dining table next to her.
“What were you doing down there?” She cocked her head.
David placed his hand on her bare thigh that the tears in her nighty had exposed. Her skin was soft and warm. He felt the thirst return. Hannah was a nice lady, David remembered her being as such. In his moments of madness, he had declared himself famished and threatened to devour the village. Now faced with the meal, he was pressed into a quandary. “I was…counting.”
“That was you?”
“Yes.”
“Why? What were you counting?”
“Grain.”
“I do not understand Captain.” Her blue eyes seemed to vibrate.
The morning was creeping on them and the early sun had brightened the dining room and the birds began to recite their compositions.
“Mother and father will be up soon, perhaps you should leave?”
A rumble from the other room signified the awakening of a parent. “That will be father. He’d be most set aside if he caught us talking and me looking like this. I shouldn’t like to explain it to him.”
Captain raised a hand and offered a calm smile, “And so you shouldn’t, I will speak to your parents and let them know. You are a hero, Hannah. You saved me.”
Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t see how.”
“Let’s just say, not everyone thinks I should be captain.”
“So…you were imprisoned down there.”
David nodded. “Now, you go to your room. Make yourself decent.”
Hannah looked over the ribbons that made her nighty. “Yes, thank you, Captain.”
Hannah left David with a candle in the dining room, prepared a small bowl of water with a cloth and brought it to her room. She cleaned her legs dutifully and listened for her father. She didn’t want to come out of her room until instructed.
Quietness took the house for the better part of ten minutes. Hannah had changed into her day dress and sat on her bed, brushing her hair. Then came the low voices. It was her father and Captain David talking. She couldn’t make out the words but it all sounded pleasant.
The light padding of footsteps came next and her mother's voice could be heard. She was a little louder than Father and seemed excitable. Hannah hoped everything would be fine and she wouldn’t be in trouble. Curiously, she pressed her ear to her door and listened. There was some laughter then a silence. Hannah thought perhaps she would be safe to emerge.
A loud thud rattled the walls, then a man's cry then another thud. The sound of furniture scraping across groaned out. Hannah pulled her ear from the door and held her chest. She backed up and sat on the bed, breathing quickly. She realised something was not right with Captain Potter and thought silly of herself for affording him so much trust.
“Meow.”
“Gosh,” Hannah hissed as she turned to see Tadpole at the foot of her bed. “You made me jump.”
Hannah’s attention was pulled back to the door by a putrid slosh that smacked the outside of her bedroom wall, followed by a scream that devolved into a guttural choke.
The house fell still, even the usual wind whistling through and creaks of old wood had retreated into silence. Hannah crept to the door, desperate to hear her mother or father's voices. She held her ear against it again.
Something cooled her feet. It was wet. She peeled her head from the door and looked down. Hannah frowned and lifted her leg. The morning light caught the wash of crimson on the inner part of her sole. She squealed and fell back on her behind.
A growl and that all too familiar whisper slipped into her room, she heard the words clearly. “Come, Hannah.”
She crawled back until her head hit the bead. The doorknob turned slowly. Hannah looked around frantically. The window. She lifted it and pushed herself through the tight hole. The flower bed took the brunt of her weight as she fell from the window and crawled through the garden towards the gate.
“Hannah.”
The voice curled from behind and drew her head to crane and look at the window she had fled from. The room was dark, and the unmistakable outline of a man watched with two fiery eyes.
Hannah cried and pulled herself upright to charge through the garden gate. She pressed into it with her waist but the rusty grill didn’t budge. In a fit of curses, she rattled the latch, only giving a moment to glance behind her.
The ground was laden with a thick mist that rose to her waist. The old latch gave way and she shoved the rattling gate out of the way to dash out through the paddock that led to the forest's tree line.
This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
The mist had enveloped her completely and felt like she was running with a pillowcase over her head. The thick roots and shrubs grasped her ankles while the thorny bracken clawed at her dress.
A tremendous pain coursed through her face. Hannah went dizzy, stumbled and then collapsed. Everything went grey and her head spun. She shook her head and rolled onto her stomach to prop herself on her hands and knees. Her nose was pulsing and blood collected under her chin. “Ahh..” she winced when she tried to sniff at the moisture gathering in her nostrils. Hannah looked to her side and saw the old Oak she had collided with.
The mist had thinned and the gloom of the forest encircled her. The branches looked black and bitter. “Nngh..” she used the tree to help herself back up, leaning against it to gather her wits.
Hannah hadn’t a clue how far she had run but it must have been enough to lose her assailant. She held her head which was tender and had a large bump on it. Her nose clicked and the pain made her eyes water. She wanted to cry for help but was afraid that would lead him to her.
She continued, this time walking as she hadn’t the energy to run since having the wind knocked from her.
***
The manor door rattled and banged. Elizabeth looked at Jim and nodded for him to answer.
“Aye?” Jim cocked his head at Damion, a grey-faced villager who made neither peep nor shout.
“H-hullo, is the Captain home?”
“He’s unwell. What do want?”
He frowned, “A few folks, includin’ me’sel heard some strange noises from the Garland house.”
“Ramsey and Elenore?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Hannah’s house.”
“The daughter, aye.”
“What kind of noises?”
“Screams, horrible one I heard.”
Jim scratched his chin. “Go about your business.”
“W–”
Jimethy slammed the door in his face and looked back at Elizabeth. “David…”
Her eyes flashed. She spun, pulled the table away from the pantry door and threw it open.
“Hello.”
Elizabeth looked at Simon. “Did David go by you, Simon?”
“No, Potter, Elizabeth.”
She looked back at Jim before quickly descending the stairs into the tunnel. Jimethy followed closely.
Jim looked around. The last he had been here was when he had found Elizabeth all those years ago. He thought that Alius had not been completely mad. He and Elizabeth shared this blackness within. It felt good, strong and powerful but the thirst was scratching the back of his throat and no drink or food satiated it.
They reached the damp clearing where the pile of grain lay. Jim was desperate to know how many might be in that pile. He knelt closer but was wrenched up by Elizabeth. “Do not count them.”
Jim shook his head. “How was Captain able to pull himself away from this pile?”
Elizabeth looked at him.
Jim looked back, “He could not have counted them all by the night's end.”
“Perhaps he was never ensnared by the allure of the count.”
“He tricked up.”
“He is powerful.”
“How did he get past Simon?”
Elizabeth pointed at the hole in the wall.
Jim peered into the darkness. “Did you know about this?”
“No. This curse moves through the walls. They take them where it pleases.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means we cannot contain, David, he must do that himself.”
“What should we do?” Jim whispered.
“Let’s visit Hannah’s house.”
The pair left the manor house and strode down to the Garland residence. A few villagers had gathered around and a man, George, was banging on the door. “Anyone in there? Hannah!”
Jim approached with his flintlock in one hand. Elizabeth glided behind elegantly. “Clear away folks,” said Jim.
The small group made a hole and let them through. George looked behind him and nodded to Jim. “Something’s happened in there, Jim, I swears it.”
Jim nodded back. “I will check see.” He wrapped lightly on the door. “Hullo, Mr Garland.” He lifted his hand to shush the nattering villagers. They quietened. The house was silent.
“Maybe—”
“Hush, George. I shall deal with this.” Jim looked at everyone and cleared his throat. “Right then.” He tucked the flintlock into his belt and then proceeded to barge the door with his shoulder. A few short shunts broke the door open and he moved inside.
The villagers gathered around to enter but Jim turned to stop them. “They don’t need the whole village snooping about the place.”
George frowned, “I’d much like to come in, I am a welcomed guest to this house.”
“Not right now you aren’t.”
Elizabeth moved towards the door and eased past George. She turned to face him and offered a warm smile. “Jim and I will have a look, please George, if you would, calm this crowd.”
George frowned.
Elizabeth tilted her head. “It would be a great favour to me.”
George nodded, “Of course, my lady.”
Jim held the door for Elizabeth and let it close behind them. The Garland house was kempt. The hearth in the kitchen crackled. “Do you smell that?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I do. He has left them here for us.”
“Left who?”
Elizabeth led Jim to the source of the sweet scent. Upon the table lay Hannah’s parents. Ramsey’s belly had been gashed open while Elenore was lying on her front, arm hanging off the edge of the table. “These two.”
“Why would he leave them here for us?”
“To drink from.”
Jim licked his lips. He was mightily urged to feast. His throat became dry and his pupils shrank to pin holes.
“Jim, control yourself.”
“A small taste would not be a miss?” He looked at Elizabeth, his teeth and stretched out into a jagged mess. Elizabeths’teeth were much the same now. Both of them yearned for the nectar.
“If we were to eat, we would lose ourselves.”
Jim narrowed his eyes. “Have I noted earned a bite?” he hissed angrily with fire in his eyes. “I had to fight off the wounds inflicted by Terrence.”
“You brought them upon yourself.” Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Do not tempt my wrath, you’re sired under me.
Jim snarled and looked at the fresh corpses sprawled over the table.
Elizabeth glided into Hannah’s room where the wind blew the curtains around. “Hannah fled, I do not smell her corpse. There may be time to stop David’s turn yet,” she called back into the dining room. “Jim, let us go.” She turned back to leave into the dining room and stopped.
Jim was sat astride Ramsey's body, tearing into his neck and gurgling the blood like a drunk might quaff ale after a salt rind.
“Jim, you fool!”
Jim looked at Elizabeth and snarled. His face was twisted into evil and his blackened eyes vibrated with intensity.