All The Dark Places

34. Retalliation

    Black bug-like creatures with long, slender legs bent up and out at all angles were scattered across the page in Felicia's journal. Little dots of bright blue crayon tipped a pattern of six on the belly of each one like black widows turned belly side up. Her writing was fastidious for a nine-year-old, and her drawings, as everything Felicia did, were a little more sophisticated than one might expect from someone her age.

They crawl fast, like spiders, but they have shells like beetles. They have six stingers that blink bright blue like a jellyfish and sometimes, when one gets too full, they pull it out and it falls on the ground and stays blue for a while. The blue ones are good and the white ones are spoiled. I have a collection of those that they leave for me. They like it when I feed them.

Feed them? She felt the now familiar creeping chill she felt every time she opened Felicia's journal. What could the child possibly be feeding those things? She went to her makeshift terrarium in a room no bigger than a supply closet. The creature she captured was still blinking. It scratched at the glass dome of the bowl with long legs, trying to get out. Indeed, there were six stingers, writhing from its belly, each one tipped in a frantically blinking blue light. The guns did not work anymore. Toby's rifle and Ethan's rifle were not definitive proof of that, but she knew. The creatures had caused this. They destroyed cities. She didn't know how they had done it, but she knew it had to be them.

"What the hell are you?" She bent closer to watch the creature scratch at the glass. "You're the little guys aren't you, just the worker bees? Scouts maybe? Whatever you are, there has to be a big boss somewhere looking out for you."

She went silent when she heard familiar voices in the corridor. Tugging on the chain, she turned out the light and crouched against the door to listen.

"We have to do something drastic... time for action and not playing house..." The voice of Winston Abrams made her shudder.

"Completely agree. The men are ready... Matthews and Ronaldson have rounded up hunting rifles from the lodge... stable man knew where they are kept..." a voice she recognized as Noel Leeky replied.

"Tomorrow at five o'clock sharp, we get the men geared up and we begin. They won't expect it... didn't want the men wasting ammunition on a practice range, but they all know how to shoot...take control of the food supply..." Winston Abrams' voice came from in the hall. He was whispering, but she was right there behind the door. She quickly turned out the light and listened. "...Minimal bloodshed if we can scare the hell out of them... but if we need to shoot, then shoot. Anyone resisting; shoot them."

She held her hand over her mouth, then heard Noel Leeky's voice.

"Understood. I know where at least two more rifles are... old bastard Tobias... Ethan Noble has one... I can get both if you give me a couple of men for backup."

"That can be arranged. Take Palcro and Matthews. Get those guns at any cost. And I mean any cost. We need to have the entire crew outfitted in the next hour... once we are done with Athelgate; we seize control of all weapons in Thornwood. The food supply is almost gone. We can't fuck around anymore with this touchy feely nonsense."

"I agree, Sir," Noel said.

"Once we have the weaponry, we seize control of the food supply."

"Yes, Sir."

"On your way, soldier."

"One more thing, Sir," Noel said. "That woman, Rosalind Pyrne."

"Yes, she is a problem."

"There are folks calling for elections. She's won the hearts and minds of the people. Now, if we let her run an election, they'll crown her Queen of the goddamned flock and well, that makes us lose power. She's cunning, that one, and dangerous."

"Hmm, you have a point. What do we do about it?" Winston paused.

"Give me a two man detail. Palcro and Matthews will do just fine. I'll make sure she doesn't get in your way. I'll make it look like an accident."

"Do what you need to do, Leeky. Make sure it looks like an accident and make sure you finish the job. Sink her in the lake if you have to. Just tell me when she is out of the way and make sure it doesn't fall on my head."

"Consider it done."

Once the two men were gone, she slipped out of the room and ran as fast as she could to her room, grabbing her bow and quiver and running down to the greenhouse to meet Ethan.

"What's got you so excited?" Ethan said, hammering a nail into a wooden plank.

"Winston Abrams is gonna raid the village. He and his militia are gathering up guns, and they plan to kill anyone who gets in their way."

"Shit, but I don't think the guns even work."

"I know, but they don't know that, and I think they are pretty hell-bent on raiding the village's supplies."

"You want to protect the whole town?" Ethan sighed.

"No. I want to protect us. This village is us now. Ethan, Noel Leeky is putting together a team to kill me right now. To KILL me. They're serious about this."

"Yeah, I can see that. You're a threat, and Hannah has been telling everyone about elections for weeks. He's got no chance against you. OK, think, think, think. Noel is seriously gunning for you?"

"Yes, he is. I heard them talking. Noel has a team of three out to make it look like an accident."

"First, we need to hide you. Go out to the Bracks cottage."

"No, they're coming to take your rifle and Toby's too." She shook her head.

"Shit. OK, The rectory. Go to that old rectory. Get your bow. Hide there until I can come and meet you."

Her bow. The thought that she might have to shoot a human being with it slammed into her hard and took her breath. She would have to defend herself if it came to that. It was possible that Winston Abrams killed his one son, drowned him in the pond in London twelve years ago, and it was entirely possible that he would kill to get what he wanted. Noel seemed capable of just about anything, and he was retaliating for her rejection and the threats she made that day on the stairs. A shiver coursed through her as she realized that Noel would not likely be satisfied with killing her without making her suffer first. Running to her room to get the bow and quiver and Scott't messenger bag where she stuffed two days rations, Hannah's compass, a change of clothing and a butcher knife she stole from the kitchen a week before. She broke down crying. Stop it, she thought. Crying won't help. She grabbed the bow and made her way toward the servant's entrance to the castle. Just before exiting, she stopped. An idea formed that was so disturbing she felt nauseous.

No, I can't do it, she thought, holding her stomach. Scott could heal himself. Father Gareth could heal others. Ramona could see through the eyes of a falcon. Ivy could shape-shift into the form of a wolf. What would happen if she were bitten? The power to heal, to shape-shift, to commune with animals? Or perhaps the horrible mutation of that horse she killed. She rejected the idea. No. She could not even think of it. But then, she had been taken by those men who almost raped her and now Noel Leeky, Winston Abrams and his men would mark her as an easy target. She was a target for anyone. She realized that. She had a bow and arrows, and that was all. No army, no militia, no guns. Just herself, and that self was not very powerful.

But, she thought, it could be.

Finding a supply closet, she dug around in boxes until she found a large mason jar and lid. It would have to do. She took it and ran to her terrarium room. The old light swung when she turned it on too hard, and the blue lights of the creature became spastic, blinking in rapid patterns.

"All right, let's make a pact, you and me." She said, her breath heavy. "If you get into this jar without attacking me, I won't squish you. OK? C'mon now, I'm gonna lift the bowl just a little... that's it... and I'm gonna slide you into the jar. You're coming with me to the rectory. It sounds like a creepy kind of place, so you'll fit right in."

The creature clawed at the glass of the bowl but then skittered toward the jar, having nowhere else to go as Rosalind pushed the bowl toward the ledge of the shelf. Frantic, she screwed the lid onto the jar and breathed a sigh of relief with the creature secured inside. She stuffed the jar into her bag and ran out the back door toward the rectory.