A Bullet Or Two

Chapter 4.3

A sharpness was beginning to lace the summer winds. Delilah shivered. Her black cloak protected her from the chill somewhat but could not prevent the heat from expelling from her body. Clouds pushed out from her lips each time she breathed.

She had been waiting for any sign of attack for a long time. Her wrist was bare of any watches, and her pants had no pockets. The only way she could tell the time was if she returned to the farmhouse and abandoned her post atop the hay bales to the right of the barn's opening.

Nightwigs were burrowers, rodents that buried themselves in soil and tunneled beneath their prey. Thus, the ground was the worst place to be. Douglas was stationed to the left of the barn's entrance, and Keith stalked opposite, prodding down on more haystacks beyond the paddock with a full view of the doors. Inside, every sheep in Peter's herd was hidden. Unable to be ripped apart without the doors being wide open. On occasion, Delilah heard bleats from inside, along with barges into the walls. When the sounds first emerged, she was startled, unsure whether the beasts were in the barn. Peter had assured her that his herd had been moved to the overhang, away from the dirt and hay and any Nightwig that made it in. Safe. Whereas every sheep carcass over the last month had been outside. Shredded with livers missing. The sheep sheltered away were left untouched.

Hay and manure wafted in the cold. Delilah was on the edge of regretting taking the job but reminded herself that it was this or the study. Wait out monsters in the night. Or sign more papers while locked in a square room.

Her tongue felt dry.

The cold seeped through her cloak as she held tight onto her rifle. All she craved was to be by the fire in the farmhouse and to be swallowing down warm, mulled wine. Ale tasted too wrong if it was warm. A drink right then would have been a blessing. A balm for cracked lips and dry throat. Delilah tugged on her gloves and pulsed open her fingers. Holding them still around the trigger was causing her joints to lock. As if the chill was freezing them. 

Jonnie had visited her the day before, informed of her excursion by some other guard. Although banned from working, he was free to visit on occasion.  In the few minutes his visit lasted, he lent her his shooting gloves. Pressed them into her hands and told her to stay safe. Delilah willed herself not to blush as she thanked him. Unsure as to what he wanted or what the gesture meant. A small part of her flurried in hope, twirling at his kindness. Yet, that flustering was overcome once the gentleman turned to leave. Coat and hat in hand, he bid her goodbye without a second more of conversation.

She could not trust his gift or words were merely a concern or anything more. No man truly felt concerned for her. Darragh needed her to carry on his reign. Men in her past jobs needed her for pleasure. And, Jonnie needed her for his wages – keeping her alive was his job. One to which she was constantly blundering for him. Preventing him from achieving. He was on leave because of her and only her. 

Yet, his absence was also a gift. A chance for Delilah to redeem herself. Prove herself. Saving Peter Schippart's livestock was Delilah's victory and hers alone. The job was accepted by her. The two boys were hired by her. The shots would be fired by her.

Not Jonnie. Not Baron. Her.

The bleats from the barn stopped. Howls from the wind quietened. Lanterns that hung at either side of the barn's entrance provided the only light. Scratches and thuds of rocks and dirt grew in volume. Delilah could not pinpoint where the sounds were coming from.

Towards the paddock, at first.

Then at the entrance.

Over by Douglas.

Then beside her.

The noises grew louder and louder. Scratching, digging, thuds and all. Gargled screams burst out all at once. Like that of foxes but worse. More tortured, and strangled. She could not see what the screams belonged to. Oh, but she knew what they were. The dark smothered the creatures from her sight.

Scream after scream pierced the night, one after another.

Then, one was below her. Mangled flesh with claws climbing up to her.