“What’s wrong with me? It happened days ago, and I still can’t get it out of my mind…one of those morbid things that’s burned there forever…Outside the edge of town a few nights back, I came upon a bundled blanket lying in a heap in the woods. It was a slow night as I remember, so I dismounted to examine whatever it was. I thought maybe it could be food, clothing, or other tradable goods that had been pilfered from a shop or one of the nearby homes. Such things have come to good use in the past. But when first I pulled the edge of the woolen fabric back, I was shocked to look on a sweet, miniature face with a button nose and pale apple cheeks framed with auburn curls. The little girl couldn’t have been more than two years old. She was beautiful, peaceful, sleeping…On her neck were two puncture wounds where the blood had been drained; and the smooth, porcelain skin was darkened with ugly streaks of blue-green where she’d been throttled. Death does not often bother me, as I’ve been in this business for a long while. But when I discovered that baby, discarded like trash after it, no doubt, took great pleasure in drinking her…Never have I felt such fury, such loathing, such disgust, such nausea…and sadness…I picked her up and held her tiny, limp body against my chest, almost as if I could warm her back to life. On days like this, I realise that I am not a slayer or a watcher or a demon. I am only a man. And I’m scared. And I hate myself for it.”
~From the diary of William Wells; October 14th, 1685
~*~~
“Are you absolutely sure that you’re ready for this? I know you’ve had several preparatory sessions with William, but the real thing is quite different.”
Elizabeth glanced up from shoving several sharpened stakes into her cloak pockets. Naturally she was terrified at the prospect of going out tonight with the goal of tracking and hunting demonic creatures, but she knew that William wouldn’t force her into a situation she couldn’t handle. An odd sense of excitement and hefty importance existed in this business. If she could manage to fight some of these dark things, then perhaps the life of one of the townsfolk could be saved. The work they accomplished here was significant—it meant something. And Elizabeth began to realize that this could be the most vital skill she’d ever learn.
“I am aware, Mr. Giles, and I thank you for your concern, but I feel ready. Especially since I shall have the two of you by my side.”
“’Tis true. You may trust that neither of us will let any harm come to you, though this first excursion should be chiefly observational. Watch us and learn what you can, but keep mostly to the side.”
“I will. But I can fight, if need be. I know I still have a long way to go in my training, but I’ve been practicing every day.”
“Yes, I am aware of your progress. And I do admit, I’m surprised at how quickly you’ve learned. Clearly you have fast reflexes and a good wit about you. Some people take to it more naturally than others. But tell me Miss Elizabeth, are you afraid of what you might find tonight?”
“No,” she replied with unwavering bravado.
“Wrong answer. Fear is positive. You must know how to use yours. It is a foolish man—or woman—that believes himself invincible.”
“I know. I just meant that I—I will not let it distract me.”
“Very good.”
Giles took up his bo staff in one hand and gestured toward the open door that lead out into a cool and murky night. Elizabeth knew full well that he hunted as often as William and clearly had the skill for it, since she understood him to be something of a master. But it was terribly difficult for her to picture the older man wielding that robust staff in battle. He just seemed so gentle, so weary…
“You two ready yet?” William asked, poking his head through the door.
Elizabeth nodded. “Will we be taking the horses?”
“No, not tonight,” William answered, “We’re just sweeping the cemetery, right Rupert?”
“Aye. I’d prefer Elizabeth’s first night out to be reasonably close to a threshold, should something go wrong.”
“Cemetery…so we’re expecting vampires, then?” she asked, trying to hide the anxious quaver in her tone.
“Yes. There’s one in particular that’s been eluding us for a bit. They’re predicable at least. Daft wankers always seem to show up at the cemetery,” William replied.
“Well, I’m ready…may they await certain death,” she squeaked.
--
“Is it bigger than, say, uh…brass candleholder?” William asked in a dull monotone.
“No!” Giles responded gleefully.
Elizabeth had set out brazenly, awaiting immediate action the moment she’d stepped outside the door. She discovered quickly however, that killing vampires involved a good bit of waiting with a healthy dose of boredom. They’d been sitting in a small circle, their backs resting on a group of headstones, for the better part of two hours.
“Is it heavier than a brass candleholder?”
“No!”
“Is it smaller than a brass candleholder?”
“Wrong again!”
“Rupert…is it a sodding brass candleholder?”
“Indeed! I knew you’d finally get it!”
William and Elizabeth exchanged exasperated looks and discreet eye rolls.
“What?” Giles demanded.
“Christ, it’s a slow night, in’t?” William sighed.
“Patience. We must remain ever watchful.”
As if in response, a twig snapped loudly near the far corner of the cemetery at the edge of the wood. Instantly, Giles and William bolted upright in defensive postures.
“Got it,” William whispered.
“No, let me,” Giles insisted, “Stay with Elizabeth. Instruct her.”
He crept silently closer to the source of the disturbance while Elizabeth and William remained hidden in the shadows. She grabbed a stake out of her pocket and became angry with herself when she discovered how spastically her hands were shaking. No! I swore to myself I wouldn’t panic. It will be all right. I know what to do. After disappearing into the darkness, Giles grunted and reappeared in the moonlit cemetery, dragging something along with him. It was a man—well, not at all a man. The grotesque facial features were the same as she remembered, though everything about him appeared bizarre to Elizabeth. The vampire was dressed in animal skins and fur and had several tattoos creeping up his arms. His skin was dark, his hair long, thick, and black. She recognized him as one of the natives, whom the townsfolk had cruelly referred to as “savages.” Or rather, he was once a native.
Giles fought him for several minutes, whipping his staff through the air with one arm while he used the other for hand-to-hand. They exchanged blows while William watched carefully at Elizabeth’s side. The older man fought with distinct and graceful precision. He made the fight look like an art form; while William’s style of combat seemed clumsy and immature in comparison.
“Aren’t you going to help him?” Elizabeth whispered fearfully.
“Shhh. Just watch, luv.”
“That man was a native.”
“Looks like.”
“But how is that—I mean, I thought…”
“Vampire’s a vampire. The demon’s the same, regardless of the skin he wears.”
They observed as Giles smoothly bent backward, dodging a punch to the face as he swiftly hurled a side kick into the vampire’s knees, sending the creature off balance. Good lord, he doesn’t even appear winded! The bo staff whistled through the air before cracking over the vampire’s skull.
“Elizabeth, step in!” William directed, “I’ll stay behind you.”
She froze. Her feet would not budge from underneath her.
“Go on. I’m right here,” he encouraged.
Elizabeth approached reluctantly, cautiously, stake raised. When the vampire spotted her approaching with William not far behind, he began to laugh.
“Votre femme vient combattre pour vous?” it asked William, sneering.
“It speaks French?!” Elizabeth commented in surprise.
“Language of trade…Oui. Ma femme vous tuera!” William retorted, chortling haughtily, before he reminded her softly, “Remember, go for the heart.”
I will not let my fear overwhelm me. I know the dance. I can do this.
Giles nodded to William and stepped aside, still keeping close. The vampire turned his hungry gaze on Elizabeth and swung at her in amusement, but she avoided him swiftly. Remember—do not run. Wait for him to reach you. When he approached for a second attack, she struck her fist out and punched him in the ribs. It didn’t do much—merely disoriented him momentarily, though Elizabeth took the opportunity to quickly dart around him. He followed suit but tripped over a low-lying grave stone, just as she’d planned. She jumped over to him then, stake shaking in hand; but before she could impale him with the weapon, he was up again. It all happened so fast, her brain hardly registered each occurrence before it blurred into the next. Abruptly he grabbed her at the waist and hurled her backward through the air, leaving her in a crumpled heap on the earth.
“Elizabeth!” William hollered in panic.
“Fine!” she shouted as she rolled back onto her feet. Ow. I’ll definitely feel that one come morning.
William stepped in and flung himself at the creature, causing it to topple over with his weight.
“Now Elizabeth!”
She ran behind him as he wrestled with the demon on the ground. Heart, heart. Middle and left.
Over his shoulder, she raised her weapon before promptly plunging it down at her target. In a burst of surprised and frenzied dust, the vampire vanished, and William fell forward with nothing left to support him. Elizabeth simply stared with glazed, wide-eyes for a long moment. She’d seen it happen before, but the sight was not something one could get used to. Falling to her knees beside William, she took a moment to catch her breath.
“Well done, my dear,” Giles said softly, “I think you have what it takes to be one of us.”
“Elizabeth, you did it, pet! You did it!”
It took her eyes a moment to focus on William as he regarded her, smiling, his hands on her shoulders. She nodded, unable to form words in her stunned disbelief at what she'd accomplished. He sprung to his feet and offered her a hand up. Once she stood steadily, he loosened and nearly dropped his grip on her hand, but she held on as a small, satisfied smile graced her lips.
“I did it,” she murmured.
“You did,” William repeated gently, giving her hand a squeeze.
--
That night Elizabeth fell asleep the instant her head hit the pillow. While true that she felt exhausted physically and mentally from her first real combat experience, the celebratory shot of whiskey she’d taken at William’s insistence probably had something to do with it. When she drifted back to consciousness hours later, the light of a new day permeated her little alcove. She stretched languidly, happy that her body didn’t feel as sore as she’d anticipated. As she readied herself to rise and peek out into the kitchen, she realized that low, intense voices were engaged in a heated discussion outside. So she remained still and strained to listen.
“I know, and I think I understand,” Giles was saying, “I confess that I do love having her here. It’s been so difficult without Susan…And it is nice to have another ‘daughter’ to care for. But she has a home and a family elsewhere.”
“With Redding?! We can’t send her back to him! I won’t allow it!” William retorted incredulously.
“Lower your voice. Not long ago, you agreed with me on this. That she must go back—and before the winter snows make the trails impassable.”
“Just last night you said she was one of us.”
“One of us in the sense of the fight, Will.”
“She’ll do what she wants. If she desires to go back…fine then.”
“I see. It’s plain to me what’s afoot here. You’ve taken a fancy to the girl.”
After a pause, William responded quietly, “So what if I have?”
“You must stay away from her, William…Something such as this could ruin her life.”
“Being with me would ruin her life?” he snapped bitterly.
“As a young, naïve, unmarried woman, scarcely older than a child…yes, it could ruin her life.”
“That’s not for you to decide.”
“No, the decision is on you. You’re older and you know something of the world…I fear that you are nothing more than a fairytale for her, Will. She doesn’t fully realize what she would be getting herself into.”
“If you’re so anxious to keep her away from me, why didn’t you just take her back from the start? Why keep her at all?”
“It had occurred to me that training her could be useful. Think of it. An ally in town. Someone we could use for leverage against him.”
“You planned to use her as a pawn against someone as dangerous as—“ he nearly shouted.
“William, please. I wouldn’t compromise her safety, you know that.”
“Right. It’s all about you. You and the bloody mission. If a few girls get hurt along the way, it’s all worth it, right?” William sneered, before sighing shakily, composing himself. When he spoke again, he sounded more tired than bitter. “I don’ care to discuss it anymore. I won’t do anything stupid. Is that enough?”
“I suppose.”
Elizabeth knew their words should both confuse and upset her on several levels. Giles thought she should leave. He spoke of plans to use her as a plant—a tool against some unknown danger. He thought her a naïve girl—thought that she didn’t understand the world. He did not approve of William’s feelings for her…but all she could focus on, all her mind would grasp…Being with William…He wishes me to stay.
--
“What are we working on today?”
Elizabeth knelt before the weapons trunk and dug out the stake she typically used for practice. These lessons had almost become a daily ritual, and she had grown to treasure them. A thrill coursed through her each time she stepped over the threshold of the abandoned barn, because it was a secret place—their place, where no one else in the world could find them. And while the lessons themselves were important to her, Elizabeth found her mind wandering more and more during these precious moments she spent alone with William.
“Uh, well, let’s see,” William answered as he removed his cloak and rolled up his sleeves, “You’re gettin’ pretty good with hands and arms, defending the torso. Nice improvements on punches, jabs, and upper cuts. So today we’ll do kicks and foot work. How’s that sound?”
“Fine,” Elizabeth replied as she stood and began running through the warm-up exercises he’d shown her. Drawing her arm gracefully through the air, she touched each of the four defensive positions, or “parries” with the stake while advancing and retreating.
William squatted in the corner, silently observing her movements.
“Hmm. It’s gonna be hard to learn kicks proper with you wearin’ a dress.”
Elizabeth glanced down at the blue skirt and petticoat she wore and shrugged. “I have nothing else to wear that would be more appropriate.”
“Hang on,” William said, holding up a finger.
Reaching into his satchel, he removed a spare pair of breeches and held them up questioningly. Elizabeth folded her arms under her breasts and raised a skeptical brow.
“Are you serious?” she scoffed.
“Why not? Hell of a lot easier to move in.”
“William Wells, if I can fit into your breeches, I will kill myself!”
“Yeah they’ll be a little big. So just tie a rope around ‘em. It’s worth a try, luv.”
“Fine. I’ll try them, but I doubt they’ll work.”
William tossed her the breeches along with a short piece of rope. Elizabeth unfolded the trousers, holding them out before her. “You want me to dress like man,” she muttered, shaking her head. Her fingers moved to the back of her skirt to undo the hooks attaching it to her bodice. William awkwardly watched as she struggled with the garment.
“Need some help?” he asked softly.
“No, sir,” Elizabeth replied, smiling coyly.
After her skirt fell to the floor in a heap of pale blue linen, she stood in her chemise and petticoat as she tried to figure the best strategy for pulling up the breeches. William’s eyes remained on her intently, hands on his hips, but when she met his gaze he quickly blushed and turned around to face the corner.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
Elizabeth felt a flush spreading from her neck to her cheeks, secretly taking pleasure in his gentlemanly discomfort. She removed her petticoat before sliding the stiff cloth breeches over her bare legs. They were large and baggy, but she secured them around her waist with the knotted length of rope.
“Ready,” she declared, though it came out a bit more shrilly than she’d intended.
--
“That’s it. You just draw your leg in a circle, clockwise, then bring it straight down. You do this one after you’ve already got him on the ground.”
William held onto her waist lightly from behind while she practiced, so that she wouldn’t lose her balance and topple over.
“You can let go. I think I’ve got it,” she said after a few tentative tries.
He stepped back, allowing her to attempt the technique on her own.
“I think that’s good for new steps. You wanna try a hand-to-hand and see if you can throw some of it in?”
“Yes, but…I’m still a bit unsure with all of it together. I will be so clumsy. I wouldn’t want to hurt you accidentally.”
“Aw don’t be nancy. Come on; give it me good, Elizabeth.”
She shrugged, picking up her stake. “Very well. I accept your challenge.”
They began the familiar dance to which she was slowly becoming accustomed. William played the vampire, and she the Slayer. The first move was always hers; so she closed the distance between them for a mock punch to his jaw, which she knew he’d anticipate. Predictably, he ducked before her fist could hit the target; but instead of following through with the move, she lightly kneed him in the ribs, and he doubled over, exaggerating the reaction. While he was down, she clasped her hands together and brought them down in the center of his back, causing him to collapse.
“Nice. You’ve got me on the ground, Slayer. You gonna finish it?” he asked breathily.
“No. Too easy,” she replied, moving back.
“Good girl,” he replied huskily and jumped to his feet.
They circled one another for a moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Tension between their bodies sent a tangible charge through the cool air.
“Your go,” she offered.
With that direction, a wry smile curled over the corners of his lips as he lunged for her. When she moved to escape a blow to the abdomen, he quickly caught the back of her knees with one leg. Before sending her tumbling to the floor, he wrapped his arms around her to slow and cushion the fall. He landed at her side, but brusquely flipped over so that he straddled her body, his hands pinning her arms to her sides.
“Looks like I got you, Slayer. How you gonna get outta this one?”
He held her intense gaze, awaiting her decision. They both panted in fatigue, sheens of perspiration coating their brows. Consciously, Elizabeth attempted to control her breathing as her chest heaved uncomfortably against her bodice. Don’t think. Grabbing a handful of his cotton tunic, she jerked him close, his lips mere inches away from her own so that she could almost taste the heat of his breath. The dreamy, enraptured look in his darkened eyes was surprised, hopeful, anxious, hungry, and lost all at once. She held him for a moment, her tightened fist shaking as if she were going to throw him aside and continue the fight. Instead, she forcefully pulled his mouth over hers.
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Chapter End Notes:
Translation of the French: Your wife comes to fight for you?...Yes, my wife will kill you.