Charlotte
All alone
They left me all alone. In the dark. For what could I do to help in our current predicament? I could have walked down the track to investigate, but what if it was a ruse and I was taken hostage? Then my friends would risk their lives to free me. I had no skill with a weapon and therefore no value to add in any fight.
Louise's words echoed in my mind—fat, useless cow.
I wasn't fat. I had curves. Once, when I had said I couldn't eat a piece of cake because I was watching my waistline, David had whispered that he thought me voluptuous. He said that word with such a hungry look in his eyes, as though I was a piece of cake, and it quite stole the air from my lungs.
I would never be tall and slim. Nature had made that determination before I was born. But my work in the garden at the manse had made me fitter. My body was stronger and for once, I was comfortable in my skin.
I knelt on the leather seat and pressed my hands to the glass, peering into the dark. I could discern nothing in the night-time landscape. Clouds obscured the moon and the stars offered little light.
A clomp came from above as Ella and the duke walked between the engine in front and the metal box behind. What were they doing? I wished I had some ability to aid the fight. Not just tonight, but the larger war. How horrible if I could only sit and watch as my friends were slain. How long would I wait for rescue? Would some rescuer find me alone, surrounded by bodies?
There was perhaps a skill I could learn, or a power I could grasp, if only I knew how. The blood of Anne Oakley flowed in my veins just the same as it did in both Elizabeth and Louise. Witches worked against the people of our country, and I would be a force for good to oppose them. But how did one become a witch? Was it a natural skill, like those who could sit at a piano and play without being taught? Or perhaps it was a learned thing and I would have to send away for a course of instruction.
No. The power was within me, waiting, it flowed through my veins and only needed to be summoned. My instinct knew what my conscious mind couldn't grasp. A part of me slumbered much like Millicent, waiting to be awoken. My mother named me Charlotte, but Father contributed my middle name—Aurora. His early death left me with only tiny snippets of memory. Like worn scraps of fabric, I clutched at what I could remember and held them close.
He called me his Sleeping Beauty. His Rory.
The time had come for Rory to awaken and to claim her power.
A flare lit the sky and pulled me from the depths of my mind to events outside. Finally, they must be signalling for help. Not that there would be anyone roaming the Downs. The flare arched toward the field and for a brief moment it disappeared. I wondered if it had gone out. Then the explosion rocked the carriage. I jerked away from the glass as sparks of red, orange and white shot out from where the flare had landed.
Except it wasn't a flare. Flames leapt into the sky and illuminated a scattering of dark shapes. My mind struggled to make sense of what I saw. Then horrible awareness slammed into me. I closed my eyes and bit back a sob. My teeth dug into the back of my hand.
Pieces of people rained down through the flames. No, not people. Turned. Another explosion created another bonfire and the scene outside revealed itself. Hundreds, if not thousands, of them converged on the train.
My last thread of sisterly affection for Louise stretched thin and then snapped. How could she have arranged this, to kill everyone in such a terrifying way?
Perhaps knowing we stood on opposite sides of a vast chasm gave birth to the spark within me. Or it might have been understanding my past, finding myself, and being content with my path. Whatever it was, as I watched the mortars rain down on our enemy outside the window, an ember glowed in my gut. One that radiated power and flowed through my veins like fine brandy.
The legion of Turned seemed so close. Against the unnatural light of burning pillars, I could make out faces and clothing. Each mortar destroyed more of them and created small burning parcels that were tossed through the air. Then, the carriage swayed as the engine rolled down the tracks. At last! We were on the move.
A thump above my head reminded me of Ella. I needed to do something, anything, rather than sitting useless in the carriage. I stood on the table and pushed the hatch outward. Someone lay slumped on the roof of the carriage. It looked wrong to be Ella, and dressed in trousers and a torn jacket with dull, dark hair.
"Hello?" I said to the shape.
Fingers walked toward me first, the movement of the arm extending over the roof pulled its torso around. Empty eye sockets gazed at me and the exposed bone of the jaw hung down, useless. Within its mouth, a dry tongue flopped back and forth like a fish out of water. A faint moan and gurgle came from its ruined throat.
"Careful, Charlotte," Ella called. She walked along the roof, one careful step at a time, keeping her balance on the moving train.
Sadness for the creature welled up inside me. "I am quite safe, both from it and in my secure posy here. It's you I'm worried about."
Different emotions assaulted me simultaneously. A protective instinct reached out to ensure my step-sister remained safe and unharmed. Pity for the poor thing, used against its will, flowed through me. Emotion swirled and mingled, fed by the new ember deep within.
A book opened in my mind. A page fell open and words glowed. As I grasped hold of the feelings inside me, I channelled them all into whispering what was written, "I release you."
The creature uttered a startled cry and then its head fell back to the cold metal. Its eyelids fluttered and then closed. I probably imagined it, but I thought it gave a sigh of relief.
Ella approached with her sword drawn, but still the Turned did not move. It lay as though it were truly dead.
What had I done?
Ella hadn't seemed to notice anything awry. Using her sword, she stabbed it through the chest and then swung it off the side of the train.
I dropped back into the carriage and hopped off the table as she lowered her body through the hatch.
"That one seemed to be playing dead," she said.
"Yes, playing dead," I repeated. But I knew it wasn't. Whatever I had conjured inside had released its soul and severed its connection to Millicent, enabling the unfortunate to find true peace.
"I'm sorry, Charlotte, but there were no survivors in the cart. You saw that one, he was hiding in the back when the train caught it and shoved it out of the way." Ella put her sword away and changed from warrior to kitchen maid, busying herself making cups of tea.
The door rattled and opened and then the duke and David entered. Both men had wide eyes that shone with excitement.
"I take it you two were responsible for those bombs raining down outside?" I asked, taking a cup from Ella.
"The army has two modified mortar cannons in the back, and they were rather handy. The private is back there writing up a report. Apparently that was better than any field exercise." David winked at me.
I didn't understand men and their excitement at watching things blow up. I could only think of the poor souls forced to fight in a war not of their making. I had made something happen up on the roof, now I needed quiet time to consider what and how.
The duke slid behind a table and stretched his arm out along the seat. Ella placed tea and biscuits in front of him before taking the seat opposite. David sat across from me. I supposed it was a very English response to make a cup of tea. What would Americans do? Serve alcohol, I suspect.
"It would seem we have confirmed that Louise has switched her allegiance to Millicent," the duke said. "We should probably figure out how, so she doesn't lay an ambush again."
"Hive communication doesn't need you to use a telephone or write a letter. They do it all with the power of their minds, somehow." Ella tapped the side of her head.
"Assuming she cannot pluck information from the heads of the living, a starting point would be to starve her of any information. Even the daily newspaper might tell her something of our movements and allow her to orchestrate the Turned to attack our men." David added to the conversation.
Ella played with a biscuit, breaking it into tiny pieces. "Where did they all come from?" Her blue gaze was rimmed with worry when she looked up. "There were easily a thousand Turned out there, if not more. Where has Millicent been hiding them all? And how many more does she have at her disposal?"
I swallowed. I didn't want to think about that.
The duke placed his satchel on the table and drew out paper and a pen. "I have much to report to the War Office. May as well write my dispatch now, while events are fresh in our minds."
I sat at my table and nursed my cup of tea. Outwardly I was calm. Inside I was a raging ocean. Waves buffeted me as my thoughts were tossed first one way and then another. What had I done, and could I do it again? Before I knew it, the train gave another bump and my gaze flew to David with alarm.
"Another trap?" My throat closed over the words and they emerged as a hoarse whisper.
He took my hand, his warm touch doused the panic that flared in my breast. "No. We’ve arrived safely at our station. You'll soon be safe at the manse."
Safe. Such a comforting word, but would any of us be safe until this war was over? Outside in the cool night, an army car took me from train station to the village manse. Ever the gentleman, David walked with me to the door.
"Will you be all right?" he asked, his thumb rubbing circles on my wrist.
"Yes," I whispered. "If Reverend Mason is awake, I might talk to him for a little while."
David nodded and then he leaned forward and kissed me. His lips brushed mine with a caress as gentle as his presence. Warmth and care enveloped me and the ember glowed hotter in my stomach. I had virtually no experience in kissing, so I tried to mimic his movements. I hoped I did it right.
He pulled back and smiled at me. "I'll see you tomorrow, in the daylight. To make sure you are unscathed after your adventure and the blood loss."
My fingers went to the bandage on my arm. I had forgotten about the blood the doctors took. It seemed a lifetime ago, before Louise's final betrayal.