Along Came a Soldier by Brenda Davies

Along Came a Soldier by Brenda Davies

Author:Brenda Davies
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Cornwall, England, St Merryn, Nineteenth Century, Redcoat, Murder, Forbidden Love, Romance, Revenge, Suspense, Historical
Publisher: BHC Press
Published: 2020-02-06T00:00:00+00:00


A nightjar churred at the edge of the woods, a ghostly call, reminding Henry of his mother’s tales of witches hiding in bushes. He’d love to see his mother again, but he was going to hell, and he wouldn’t find her there.

Like an apparition, he passed through the village of St Merryn. Without his uniform, he became invisible. He caused no stir; no faces peeked at him from candlelit windows. Like smooth rain, he slipped between cottages, a dark, featureless shadow—a shadow with a purpose.

He moved toward a cottage where smoke curled from the chimney into the cool night air and eased the latch on the front door. Like a marauding fox, he stole inside. No one ever bothered to lock their doors at night, but they should. Who knew what waited in the dark?

Standing inside a kitchen parlour, his eyes adjusted to the light of the peat fire. Tendrils of grey smoke swirled restlessly about the room. The house held its silence, and Henry held his. His heart beat like a bird trapped in a cage, and for a moment, he experienced the familiar sensation of falling, of stepping off a ledge and plummeting into the depths of the damned where madness waited with open arms. He couldn’t stop now, so he let himself fall.

He spied a pan beside the fireplace and inched toward it, careful not to touch anything or make any noise that would give his presence away. The pan contained a heap of mushrooms, sitting in their brown, earthy juices. He nodded, smiled, and took it as a sign.

From his trouser pocket, he retrieved a pouch and clumsily emptied the contents into the pan. Just more mushrooms. They looked like any other, especially when cooked. But they were not like any other. Henry knew all about mushrooms now.

In the sickly glow of the firelight, he crept around the parlour and made for the furthest, darkest corner, where shadows lurked, thick and black. Once there, he sank to the floor, a silent soldier waiting for the enemy to return.

His right hand lay in his lap like a rotten piece of meat. He wrinkled his nose against the putrid stench, but let the rancid smell enter his pores and swamp his body, embracing it. It was a reminder of why he was here and what he had to do.

He drew into himself when he heard their whispered voices, afraid of what he would see. The shadows twitched and stretched. Blurred faces loomed in and out, distorted by the firelight. They had followed him here. Through strands of his greasy, matted hair, he watched them drown in their terror and pain. He pressed his good hand across his eyes to stop the fist of madness rapping at his mind. Too late—he had let things in that should’ve been kept out. Now all he could do was fall.

The cottage door opened, and a light breeze entered, kicking up layers of dust and bringing new life to the strands of smoke hovering about the room.



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