At first light, Alice and I were ready to leave. Magda hugged us both, and then she tapped the end of Alice's nose. "Behave and don't go leading Ella into any trouble."
Alice snorted. "Of course not. I am her secretary and chaperone.”
She lifted her nose in the air in a haughty manner, but she winked over the top of Magda's head and I knew mischief was exactly on her mind. Frank's suffering was about to get a whole lot worse. She picked up the suitcase we shared for the trip and we walked out to the driveway. Dawn bled across the sky as we waited for the motorcar.
"Red sky in morning, shepherd's warning," Alice whispered the old saying. She wore a practical walking suit left behind by Louise. The dark green pinstripe was a perfect match for her chocolate hair and pale skin.
Alice's words shivered over my skin under my clothing and I hoped it wasn't a premonition. While my friend looked the epitome of the working girl, I had tossed and turned all night, trying to decide what to wear. I had nothing stylish or up to date, and I would be the drab country mouse come to town. So I decided to embrace what made me different. I was the village slayer.
Polished high boots encased my calves. I chose dark caramel trousers for my legs. On my torso I donned a crisp white shirt, fitted waistcoat and a dark tweed jacket. While my attire was probably more suited to riding, it was also my slaying armour. The katana sat next to the suitcase. I wouldn’t go anywhere without my weapon.
Headlights swept along the drive before the motor appeared. Seth and Frank both stepped out. Frank's usual playful manner seemed subdued as he picked up the suitcase and popped it in the trunk. Alice stiffened and tried to ignore him as he held the passenger door open for her.
"You look ready to do battle," Seth said as he kissed my cheek.
"I'm no boy scout, but I believe in being prepared." I clung to the sword like a talisman. We might not face the undead in London, but the living could cut you with their sharp tongues. Today I headed into the beating heart of society, where the ton ruled. As the scullery maid who caught the attention of a duke, vermin might prove to be the least of my problems.
It was a journey of some 160 miles between our rural spot in Somerset and London. That was a long time to sit in a motorcar. Seth worked, a tray on his lap as he read dispatches and letters and penned his notes. Exhaustion swept over me and I slept for a part of the ride, propped up in the corner.
We broke the journey once to stretch our legs and to answer calls of nature, squatting behind trees but not too far from each other in case vermin lurked in the forest. We reached London just before lunch. As we approached the city, trees and fields thinned out to be replaced by buildings and smoking chimneys. The roads grew busier, horses mingled with their petrol-powered replacements.
I had only been to London once, a lifetime ago. As a young girl, Father had taken mother and me by horse and cart. It had seemed such an adventure to a bright and vibrant city. This visit was wreathed in the sombre tones of a country at war. Even the weather was dull and gloomy as autumn edged toward winter. The colour had faded from both my memory and London.
Life continued in the bustling capital, but precautions were evident. Pedestrians moved a little faster and looked determined. Beggars and the homeless were given a wide berth and regarded with suspicion.
Soldiers patrolled the streets. More uniformed men followed behind carts with loads draped in black canvas that were pulled by large draft horses. With rifles drawn and bayonets affixed, the soldiers ensured the dead beneath the covering didn't escape. Some pedestrians made the sign of the cross as the death carts passed.
"I thought London was free of the Turned?" I said to Seth, my face pressed to the window.
"That is what the War Office thought, until we turned up two underground hives in Somerset. Ever since, there has been an increase in incidents. They now suspect they may be sitting atop an army of the undead. Men are searching all the sewage tunnels and catacombs, looking for signs."
Our village and region had only a few thousand souls. The entire population of Somerset was less than 500,000 people, whereas the London area held over seven million. My mind didn't want to contemplate how large a hive might exist beneath the cobbled streets. Imagine if all the dead in the world rose up at once. We would drown under the subsequent wave. Was that what Millicent had planned all those years ago?
"Frank will drop us at the War Office. Then he will check us into the Ritz and collect us later this afternoon," Seth said as he packed away his papers into the battered satchel.
We stopped outside the grand War Office buildings on the corner of Whitehall and Horse Guards Avenue. The soaring building made of muted stone dominated its corner with wings spreading back down each road. Soldiers and civilians streamed in and out of the main entrance.
I dropped the leather strap of my beloved katana over my head. The weight was a comfort against my back. I could do this. Seth escorted us across the footpath when Alice tugged on my sleeve and pulled me to one side.
"This is madness, Ella. I'm a house maid. What am I doing here?" Her eyes were wide with worry and she kept glancing at every person who scuttled past. The women wore finely tailored suits or dresses with warm wool coats over the top.
She shouldn't worry on account of her clothing. I used to pay the dressmaker’s bill, and Louise's walking suit was as expensive as any other outfit that brushed by us. I took a moment to find the words to give my friend the courage to walk her new path. "You wanted a bigger life Alice, so here it is. Women are starting to rise up and demand more rights, and here is your chance to be a part of that. No man is going to point his finger and command you back to the kitchen. If you're feeling a little intimidated, just pretend you're Louise. No matter the situation, she was convinced of her own superiority over everyone else."
Alice snorted and her smile returned. "I can do that."
Confidence restored, we carried on up the steps and walked across a tiled lobby. We followed Seth up a winding staircase to the second floor. The balustrades were a dark wood so highly polished I checked my hair in a passing reflection. Lush carpets in deep green wool muffled our footsteps. Clerks hurried past carrying piles of folders clutched to their chests. Uniformed soldiers nodded to Seth and saluted as he passed.
Seth paused at one door in the long corridor and pushed it open to reveal a noisy typing pool. Alice was to have a crash course in typing, secretarial duties and how a government department ran, while we poured over dusty documents. An older woman bustled over, smiled at Seth, and took Alice under her wing. With my friend set to work, we carried on down the corridor. We approached wide double doors and Seth pulled them open.
We entered a lush outer office with deep reds on the walls and greens underfoot to offset the dark wooden panelling. Polished brass light fittings gleamed overhead. Another set of double doors beckoned. To one side a woman banged away at a typewriter, a pair of black-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose. Across from her, the other desk was manned by an obnoxious looking little man who seemed overly fond of moustache wax.
"You are?" he asked with a nasal inflection.
Seth crossed his arms. "Don't be ridiculous, Bradford. You know who I am. We're here to see the general on urgent business."
The moustache pulled to one side as he sneered. "I'm not sure if he's in."
"I spoke to him yesterday morning; he's in and waiting for me." Seth took another step closer to the desk.
The secretary leaned back in his chair, as though he sought to escape. Then his gaze narrowed at me. "She doesn't have any authority to be here."
I wondered if I could use my sword as my authority. Before I could grab the hilt, Seth leaned his knuckles on the desk and glared at the bureaucrat.
"Miss Jeffrey is a special civilian liaison to the War Office. Not to mention she has single-handedly defended her village from the Turned and made several vital discoveries in our knowledge of the undead. What has your contribution been to the war effort? I doubt you have done anything more dangerous than sharpen a pencil. Good men have fought and died while you have hidden behind your desk."
This forceful Seth did strange things to my insides, and my knees quivered.
The office door opened and an older gentleman appeared. His tired eyes lit up on seeing Seth, and then they skimmed over me. "Is this the amazing young woman who discovered hives and queens? Come in, we have much to discuss. Really Bradford, why haven't you shown them in?"
Ha! I smiled my sweetest smile as we walked past Bradford's desk and I very nearly poked my tongue out. Even though I was a serious career girl and had an image to maintain, I still did it in my head.
"General, this is Miss Eleanor Jeffrey. Ella, this is General Donovan, head of intelligence for the Grim War." Seth slipped back into ducal mode as he made the introductions.
I froze. Did I curtsey, salute or something else entirely? The general rescued me from indecision by seizing my hand and shaking it heartily. "Wonderful to meet you at last. The science lads are quite rapt with your hive and bee analogy. They have all sorts of ideas they are testing out."
"I am glad to be of some use," I said.
"We are here about a particular individual," Seth said as the general directed us to the chairs arrayed before his desk.
The general grunted deep in his throat. He clasped his hands behind his back and narrowed his gaze at Seth. "You must understand that what you suggest all sounds a bit… mad. Satanists, witches, and hocus pocus. It's the sort of thing to titillate bored ladies in their parlours, not how the army runs a war."
"Know thy enemy," I said.
His gaze snapped to me. "Do you really think one insipid man with rabid beliefs is behind all of this?"
"I've been inside two hives, both times the queens whispered that they needed more. I believe they gather an army for an unknown purpose. I also believe their true leader has yet to reveal themself." Did I really know my instinct was on the right path? It did sound mad. There wasn't the smallest shred of evidence to link Millicent to this war apart from the whisper in my head and a comment Elizabeth made. Pursuing Crowley was likewise a dart thrown in the dark.
The general huffed and moved to stare out his window. "This sort of talk scares people. It's the type of tale told to naughty children at night. We can't afford to spark panic. A scientific explanation gives people comfort. They need to believe this is something we can study, understand, and formulate a way to defeat it."
I glanced to Seth, but he held his silence. I searched inside myself, trying to find a way to show the general the pattern I saw in random circumstances. "In Somerset and Dorset we have found queens who control their followers. But what if there is another, higher authority controlling the queens? That is the enemy we must study and understand if we are to have any hope of turning the tide."
His gaze swung back inside the room and he considered me for a long silent moment. "You really think Crowley has some hand in this?"
Did I? Gosh. If a long dead ancestor of Seth's was trying to reach through time, then Crowley seemed as good a conduit as any. "I believe our true enemy makes ripples in a pond. Crowley is one such disturbance on the surface. You may think it's mad, but we are surrounded by insanity. Investigating every possible lead, no matter how ludicrous, is the one thing that makes sense to me."
"Do you have information on the man, General Donovan?" Seth asked.
He rubbed the back of his neck and sat back down in the ornately carved chair behind his desk. "Yes. We have someone close to Crowley. We've been keeping a close eye on him ever since he started stirring up trouble before the Great War. Then he relocated to America and proved himself a traitor to England by working for Germany."
The general pulled open a drawer and drew out a large metal key. Then he rose and moved to a series of deep mahogany filing cabinets that comprised the bottom half to his bookshelves. The key fitted into a brass lock and from the drawer, he pulled out several stuffed files.
"This is all strictly confidential and not to leave this room. I cannot risk our informant being compromised, especially if this Crowley is the source of the plague. Nor do I want it leaking to the newspapers that we are giving the idea of an evil force rising against us any credence. But the deaths of millions will stain Crowley's soul if you can prove this." He dropped the files on a table to one side of the room. "You can work here and I'll have Bradford order you some lunch."
He supplied us with pen and paper to make our own notes. Then Seth and I divided up the files and started reading. Crowley's early life was slightly odd, but no more so than any other British peer farmed out to different nannies and private schools. What interested me were his activities in the year before the pandemic outbreak. In 1918, Crowley undertook a mystical retreat in the wilderness of Esopus Island on the Hudson River.
After what seemed like hours, I found the passage that made my blood run cold. "Here," I said to Seth and slid the report over.
He read the words then looked up at me. Then he read aloud, "Crowley is obsessed with awakening a woman he refers to as the mistress. While others think her dead, he says she has merely slumbered. If he delivers enough souls to her hands, she will return to this world and bring it under her sway. Crowley works to combine magic and science, and he says he has crafted a weapon that will set off a shock wave that will resonate around the world."
He blew out a breath as we let the words sink in. Then his grey gaze met mine. "Do you think Millicent is the mistress?"
Pieces of the puzzle fell into place. "Yes. But what did he mean that she isn't dead, but slumbering? Do you think Millicent was like the Turned, dead but not?"
"Imagine if Millicent was the first one. No wonder that was left out of the family history." Seth rubbed his hands over his face. "This bit about combining magic and science to create a weapon sounds like the origins of the initial pandemic."
"If only someone had believed that there might be a kernel of truth in Crowley's mad ravings and paid closer attention to these reports." I traced the edge of the page with a fingertip. Imagine if swift action had pounced on Crowley before he released whatever triggered the pandemic. Millions of lives lost because bureaucrats thought it impossible.
It was dark by the time we handed back the files, reclaimed Alice, and left the War Office. My friend looked as bleary eyed and tired as I felt.
"There's so much to learn, I shall dream in triplicate tonight," she said as we waited on the pavement for Frank.
Once in the warmth of the motorcar, Frank drove us to Piccadilly and the Ritz hotel. A livery-clad footman rushed to open the door and offered his hand to help me out. He didn't even raise an eyebrow as my sword emerged first.
"Your rooms are prepared, your grace, if you will follow me." He bowed to Seth.
I tried not to gawk as we walked across a marble-tiled foyer. Large mirrors reflected the furs, jewels, and haughty noses of the wealthy who surrounded us. We took an elevator to the third floor as though it were an everyday occurrence. My state of indifference was hard to maintain when Alice whispered crikey from behind me.
Crikey indeed. My suite was bigger than our house. The bed sat alone on a carpet the size of a field. Thick damask drapes hung from the rails and were tied back at the end posts. If I flicked them free, the bed would be enclosed. A table and chairs could seat eight. Who ever entertained that many in their boudoir?
Alice had a far smaller room off mine that reminded me of our attic garret. A single bed was pushed under the window with a view of the people below on the street.
"Will you be all right in here?" I asked.
She yawned and waved me away. "Assuming you can dress yourself, I'm going to rest my eyes for a while. I'm so tired after today."
I patted her arm. "We'll talk in the morning."
I closed her door and returned to my room, unsure how to entertain myself. I had hoped for an intimate evening with Seth, but instead I was alone in a mausoleum. A knock made me turn to the door. But it hadn't come from either the hallway or Alice's room.
The noise came again and drew my eye to search for the source. A wooden door was concealed in the panelling. Only a faint line gave away the outline of the door. A key stuck out from the lock. A muffled voice came from the other side. My heart beat faster as I turned the key and pulled.
Seth stood on the other side holding a bottle of champagne in one hand and two crystal flutes in the other. "Fancy a drink before joining me for a night of dancing?"