The hall was a mess. Smashed crockery and food littered the floor and corners. Sofas and chairs were overturned and fractured. The remains of the fire, now out, were scattered over charred rugs. The battle between Lord Richard and Bridget, and between Lord Richard’s court and Bridget’s minions had been intense. Paul tried to catch his breath as he worked his shoulder. “What were they?” he asked Sir Craig.
Sir Craig wiped away the thin trickle of blood that was oozing from his hairline. “I’m not exactly sure,” he said. “They looked like some sort of wraiths or ghosts, but not quite.” He winced as he touched the bruise. “We could do with finding out exactly what they were, so we can deal with them a little better.” He looked around at the wreckage. Lottie, with a few other werewolves, had set up a rudimentary first aid station where they were treating the casualties. Steve Adderson was wincing as Lottie bound a splint on his arm and a brownie was sitting in distraught tears while another comforted her.
“That notebook, the one I gave Richard, called them kitlings,” Theo said. “That’s the tall ones that were made of shadow. I’m not sure about the others.”
“They were gabble ratchets, and we got away lightly,” Sir Craig said grimly. “I’ve never seen them in such numbers.” He looked at Theo. “How are you holding up?”
Theo looked around, then back at Sir Craig. “How do you do it?” he asked. “I mean, it was chaos. There were creatures everywhere with those stone knives, and yells, and the lights kept going out…” He took a deep breath. “I stayed out of it. I couldn’t help. I didn’t know what to do.”
“You didn’t stay completely out of it,” Paul said. “I saw you knock back a few of the gabble ratchets when they got too close to the brownies.”
“But you and Sir Craig…” Theo shook his head. “Are you hurt?”
Paul shook his head. “I’ll find a few bruises tomorrow, but nothing serious.”
Sir Craig winced again. “A few cuts and bruises here. I’m used to things getting a little crazy. But what is that about a book and kitlings?”
“I found a book,” Theo said. He hesitated but continued. “I thought it would be a wonderful thing to be a vampire. I’ve changed my mind,” he added quickly. “Especially after finding the book. It had been hidden in my cottage and had details all about vampires and werewolves - and Bridget Ddu. It talked about her creating shadows of herself. She called them her kittens or kitlings, but the book said that they were a pale and thin version of a fetch.” He rubbed his side ruefully. “They didn’t feel pale and thin.”
“A fetch is a copy of someone,” Sir Craig said, “But not always an exact copy.” He righted an armchair and sat down. “It’s like the story of Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Except that they are not in the same person.” He looked around. “I met one a few years ago. The original, the centre, was a man who worked in IT. He was researching magical documents for a video game and came across the idea. After too little sleep and too much caffeine, he tried to summon a fetch and accidentally succeeded. The fetch is linked to him but is an independent man in their own right. They don’t look the same or even think the same but they were from the same core, just sort of split into two people.” Sir Craig shrugged. “They didn’t cause any trouble so we left them to it. It sounds like these kitlings are similar.”
Theo nodded. “They are like shadows of Bridget Ddu, but not completely separate. According to the book, she generates a new one every dark of the moon. She must have shed hundreds.”
“She has a few less now,” Sir Craig said. “Lord Richard was impressive. But she got away.” He looked at the scorched walls which showed the evidence of the explosion Bridget used to hide her escape.
“That means that she’ll be back,” Paul said. “And there is already gossip about sick kids and livestock that would suggest an out of control vampire. We need to act.”
“I think Lord Richard intends to,” Sir Craig said, nodding to the vampire stalking to the centre of the hall.
Lord Richard raised his hand and looked around. “I declare a hunt,” he said. “I declare that the court will not rest until Bridget is destroyed. Counsellors, to me.”
Paul looked at the tall figure and frowned. Lord Richard was no longer the kindly, if slightly eccentric, IT consultant. Instead he was standing defiant in the centre of a spent battlefield, radiating anger and dark authority. There was death and destruction in every inch of him. “This could get crazy,” he murmured to Sir Craig as he bent forward and picked up a shattered chair leg.
Sir Craig picked up a broken wooden spar and looked at him. “It’s not in our hands,” he said. “Lord Richard has authority.”
“That’s correct, Sir Craig,” Lord Richard said, striding over. “Knightsbridge, take these non-normals out of here and get them safe. Carol?”
“I’ll stay here with the brownies,” Carol said, taking a broom from Liz. “I’ll be fine with them.”
Lord Richard nodded then waved at Knightsbridge. “Take them.”
After the damp warmth of the hall, the air on the moor was sharp and knife cold. Knightsbridge shook herself and the tight pink micro dress with skyscraper heels was suddenly a warm, dark jacket and jeans with sturdy boots. “Can you see your way?” she asked as she pulled back her hair.
Paul nodded over to the east. Through the glare of the lights of Halifax and Leeds, a faint chink of light was rising. “It’s almost dawn. Lord Richard needs to rest.” He turned to Theo. “Can you remember the details of Bridget’s lair?”
Sir Craig frowned. “You know where it is?”
Theo nodded. “Paul and I spent enough time looking over that notebook. But we couldn’t quite put our finger on the lair.”
Sir Craig looked at Paul. “What do you remember?” he asked.
“There’s a spring east of Stoodley Pike,” Paul said. “We got lost looking for it. But if we can find that, then I’m pretty sure I can get us there.”
“I know where that is,” Knightsbridge said, “But we should let Lord Richard know. He wants to deal with this.”
“He’s already proven that he can more than defend himself,” Sir Craig said. “Even I could tell that he was in the heart of a magical battle and he was scything down the shades. But it’s dawn. Lord Richard is at his weakest.”
“So is Bridget,” Paul added. “It’s probably why she left. She could feel herself weakening. We need to get her while she is at her weakest after the fight.”
Knightsbridge looked at the men. “This is an insane idea. How can three mere normals consider attacking such a great and malevolent power with the slightest hope of success? I completely approve.”
“And I’m a paladin,” Paul said. “That means something.”
Knightsbridge shrugged. “Hold my hand,” she said imperiously. “Link in a circle. How far from the spring is the entrance?”
“The book said half a league east,” Theo said. “If we can find the spring, we have a good chance.”
“And how will you find a disguised entrance?” Knightsbridge said as she took their hands in a firm grip. “Magic will be used to hide it.”
Paul grinned. “We don’t look for the entrance. We look for the magic. If we find the disguise, we find the door.”
Knightsbridge narrowed her eyes. “You are too cunning, paladin,” she said and, with a stomach lurching jolt, they were next to the spring.
The sun was on the horizon as Sir Craig watched Paul using magic to search. Theo was praying. It had been a long night, and Sir Craig was starting to feel old. This was not the best idea he’s ever heard. He concentrated on whittling the spars of wood that he and Paul had brought with them into stakes. That was the plan. Find Bridget, get in as she slept, stake her as she was vulnerable, then go home and get a good night’s – or day’s - sleep. Sir Craig jumped as he found Knightsbridge leaning over his shoulder. “Can you feel anything?” he asked.
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Knightsbridge shook her head, her golden curls tumbling. “I can feel dark magic around, though it’s designed to be hidden from the elfen. Your paladin will find the way.” She glanced provocatively at Sir Craig. “Your paladin is so adept with magic. Once you would have burned him.”
“It’s not exactly encouraged,” Sir Craig said. “But right now, I’ll take it. You can tell that it’s working?”
Knightsbridge raised her eyebrows. “The magic is rolling from him in artistic and well controlled waves. I will certainly not risk opposing him.” She pouted a little. “Besides, his heart is taken. Lord Richard is single, though, I believe. I feel the need for some romance.” Pure mischief glinted in her eyes. “Are you in a romantic relationship, Sir Craig?”
“No, I’m a Knight Templar,” Sir Craig said with careful patience. He looked over to Theo and then back to Knightsbridge. “If it goes crazy, will you get Theo out? He’s a brave man coming with us, but he’s not trained for this. He’s in over his head.”
Knightsbridge thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. She watched as Theo shivered in the dawn breeze. “I suppose so.”
Sir Craig knew that it was as good as he was going to get. “What’s taking Paul so long?”
Knightsbridge smile had a malicious edge. “You can’t tell, can you? How blind you are! Your paladin, the one that’s supposed to be all holy and sacred, is doing more than just a look with his magic. He’s weaving quite an enchantment.”
Sir Craig’s sudden chill had nothing to do with the wind picking up and swirling over the moor. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t see all the twists,” Knightsbridge said. “But I can see enough. We are going in behind a shield of spells. I think that he is draining dark magic and spinning it against the source, but it’s hard to tell. He’s getting all the advantages wrapped up in it before he even knocks on the door.” She sighed. “He is so skilful. I wonder whether he is very attached to the woman.”
“He is,” Sir Craig said quickly. He may have worries over Paul, but he wasn’t going to encourage an elfen romance. “It’s taking long enough.”
On cue, Paul stepped back. He was pale and his face was heavily beaded with sweat despite the morning chill. “I’ve got it,” he said. “Follow me and stay close. Dark things should sleep, or at least be drowsy, as we approach, but I don’t know how long it will hold. We need to be quick.”
Theo stumbled to his feet and followed with Sir Craig and Knightsbridge close behind. Theo pulled out a long, broad-bladed knife. “It’s just steel,” he said. “It isn’t silver. But it should work, shouldn’t it?”
“Please don’t let the police catch you with that,” Sir Craig said as he stared at the gleaming weapon. “That is not a legal blade. But it’s fine against Bridget. She’s not exactly legal herself.”
Paul ignored the discussion. “Don’t worry about what you see on the way in,” he said. “Some of it will be illusion, some of it’s real. Just stay close and keep your wits about you.” He turned back and strode into something.
Sir Craig followed him, with Theo after and Knightsbridge bringing up the rear. He hated dealing with magic. It never ended well for the Knights Templar, and he couldn’t remember it ending well for a paladin. Still, if this got the job done, he had to get on with it. From the reports coming in, the vampire predation from Bridget was already a problem. He offered up a quick prayer before he stepped through the shining arc spanning a small gap between two stone cairns. Please let them all get out of this alive.
Once through, Sir Craig could feel what Paul meant. They were walking into an old tunnel. He was no historian, but it looked like this had once been a mine, carved into the rock in search of lead and iron. In the walls there were flickers and hints of plaster and rich tapestries, but they were the remnants of illusion that Paul was draining. Sir Craig hoped that Paul knew what he was doing. He pulled a small torch from his pocket. Behind him, Theo was using his phone for light. Knightsbridge probably made her own arrangements.
The tunnel broadened into a cavern. Sir Craig blinked and squinted in the uncertain light. Illusion was overlaying the tunnels, but the illusion was breaking down and glimpses of the fires and lamps flickered uneasily over the stone walls like a bad projection in a cheap exhibition. Sir Craig looked over his shoulder. Theo was white faced in the glow of his phone and holding the knife in a fierce grip, his knuckles showing white. A shadow behind Theo was probably Knightsbridge. At least, it wasn’t attacking them.
“It’s not far,” Paul said, his voice distorted and echoing. “This cave is big, but I can get a sense of a chamber a little further in. That’s where we need to be.”
“Then it’s a stake through the heart and cut off the head,” Theo said.
Sir Craig could hear the tension in Theo’s voice. “That should do it, though cutting off a head almost always works whatever you face. Keep alert. Paul, how are your spells holding up?”
“I prefer the term, ‘enchantments,’ but they’re doing okay,” Paul said. “This cavern is big, but we should be fine for most of the way.”
“When you say, ‘should be fine,’ you mean, ‘will be fine,’ right?” Sir Craig said. He wasn’t reassured by Paul’s lack of answer. He took charge. “Listen, we’re going against something incredibly powerful. We can’t guarantee that we won’t be attacked. Paul, you keep going with the magic.” In spite of himself, Sir Craig shuddered. “And be careful with it. Don’t let it get out of hand. Knightsbridge, you and I are going to have to keep any attack off. When those kitlings start moving, we need to be ready and waiting for them. Theo, that leaves you to push a stake into Bridget’s heart and cut off her head.” Sir Craig pushed a stake into Theo’s hand.
“I’m not sure where the heart is,” Theo said. “What happens if I miss?”
Sir Craig ignored the muffled snort of laughter from Knightsbridge. “Aim a few inches down from the throat, around central to the chest area and a little to the left. In my experience, a stake to the chest area will slow a vampire down long enough to behead them and then you have plenty of time to play ‘hunt the organ.’ Don’t overthink it.”
“Quiet!” hissed Paul. “I can feel that we’re getting close.”
Sir Craig followed carefully. The floor was unobstructed and quite smooth, and the light from the phone and torches was enough to give a sense of their surroundings. The cavern was naturally narrowing and there was a rough gap in the walls, barely visible in the shadows. He glanced at Theo. “Put the phone away,” he murmured. “It’s too easy to drop and you’ll need your hands free.”
Theo nodded and fumbled as he switched it off and slid it into his pocket. “Good idea,” he said.
Sir Craig didn’t mention the tremble in Theo’s hands. Instead he kept his eyes moving. “Are we near?” he asked.
“It’s here,” Paul said softly. He took a deep breath. “There is a lot of magic here. It could get crazy.” He shone the torch around the arched opening, checked over his shoulder at the others, then stepped forward.
Sir Craig felt the breath pulled from his lungs as the temperature dropped. The damp chill of the cavern was now a soul-searing, freezing blast and for a moment he stumbled. Behind him, Knightsbridge swore and then the kitlings were on them.
Sir Craig ducked under the reaching arms of the kitling and punched hard and up. The kitling fell back. These things are fragile, Sir Craig thought, but there are so many of them. He kicked out hard and the kitling broke, its black shape curling away in a twist of darkness and the next one already closing on him. He could hear Knightsbridge swearing behind him as he saw Paul push Theo ahead into the chamber then he had to duck under a swinging stone knife.
Magic crackled around the roof of the cavern, lighting their surroundings with an uncanny glow and bouncing around the walls. Sir Craig felt his skin crawling with the unpleasant darkness filling the cave as he rolled under another swing to get nearer to Paul. The paladin was stood in the doorway, his arms outstretched with tension in every line as he fought the magic. Sir Craig scrambled to his feet and shoulder charged a kitling heading to Paul, knocking it away. “Theo, get on with it!” yelled Sir Craig as he picked up a fallen stone knife and swung it higher. He could hear Theo praying indistinctly through the howls of the kitlings and the chittering of the magic. “Just aim anywhere in the chest and then cut off the damned head!”
The sudden silence was absolute. Sir Craig staggered and dropped the knife. He lifted his torch and the light danced around the cavern. Paul looked pale in the beam as he leaned against a wall. Knightsbridge was still poised and alert as she stood panting, a smudge of dirt over her perfect cheekbones. Theo staggered out.
“I think I found the heart first time,” he said, shuddering.
Paul looked past him. “I think you did. There’s nothing but dust. You cut off the head as well?”
Theo nodded. “That’s when it sort of collapsed.”
Sir Craig pushed past Paul and shone his torch over the small chamber. It was rough and scratched together, with boxes and barrels stacked and dusty in the corners. A stone slab in the centre of the room was covered with dust, rags, and fragments of bone. He nodded. “It looks like you got her,” he said. He glanced up at the sagging ceiling. “We need to get out of here.”
Knightsbridge strode in, grabbing at Theo and Paul before clutching Sir Craig in a wide embrace. “Let’s go!” And then, with another stomach churning lurch, they were outside watching the ground shudder as the cavern beneath them collapsed. “That was fun,” Knightsbridge said brightly. “But what a waste of meringues. I hope we can have another celebration with such delicacies.”
Sir Craig felt the weariness in every inch of him. He glanced over at Paul. The paladin was pale and barely standing, and Theo was shivering and struggling to stay upright. Around them, the empty moors seemed to stretch for miles. He hated asking the elfen for anything, but sometimes there were no other options. He smiled tiredly at Knightsbridge. “There’s some fudge and meringues still left at the paladin’s cottage. If you can get us all back there, you can have some. There’s quite a bit.”
Paul nodded, switching off his torch with shaking hands and putting it back in his pocket. “Carol stored the spare goodies in my kitchen. It’s only a few platefuls, but there’s honey as well.”
“So more than one meringue and a piece of fudge?” Knightsbridge asked carefully.
“Yes, more than that,” Paul said, putting a hand around Theo’s shoulders and helping him upright.
Knightsbridge frowned. “I will take you back, and the meringue and fudge will put me somewhat in your debt if there is small than a small quantity. That is a risk, to owe a debt to a paladin and a Knight Templar.” She flicked her gleaming golden curls back. “But I can repay with romance. We will have an after party. Hold on!”
Sir Craig found himself again in her relentless grip. “Not romance!” he yelled as his stomach felt the now familiar lurch. “No romance at all!” But all he could hear was Knightsbridge’s giggle as exhaustion washed over him and everything went dark.