Gregor and Theodore quietly maneuvered their horses in the forest far from the main street, careful not to alert the already-addled townies.
Conal had gone over the procedures for this eventuality carefully and frequently, hammering home every detail for his loyal followers. The plan was to ride around the back of the hill at the end of town and come up behind Conal’s house for secrecy. They would use the secret entrance into Conal’s underground chamber, make preparations, then begin the tactical assault that would place the town under their control, killing Bennington and his loyalists along the way.
They had not expected to have to break their leader out of jail, but the Celt had them well prepared. It was only a minor contingency.
The three candles that were their signal burned low up on the hill, discernible only to anyone searching for their glow. Seeing it, Gregor and Theodore exchanged a nod of determination.
Theodore, riding in front, had just turned to face forward when his horse stopped dead in its tracks so abruptly, Gregor’s steed ran into it.
“Ho!” Theodore whispered harshly, whipping the beast across the neck with the reins. “Move along, girl.”
Gregor’s horse tensed as well, backing up until its hindquarters met a hickory.
“What’s the matter with these godforsaken—”
Theodore’s complaint was severed by the crashing patter of footfalls—someone coming toward them, fast.
Theodore reached for the weapon on his saddle. His horse threw him, before he could grab it, and bolted away at full gallop, leaving the dazed rider on his back.
Gregor’s horse was clearly of the same mind. Gregor hopped off and threw its tether around a sapling, then went to help Theodore.
“I heard someone,” whispered Theodore.
“Some…one?”
“One pair of feet only.”
Then it emerged into the moonlight, its black robes flowing, its sickle arcing back and forth, its gleaming white-and-scarlet face reflecting moonlight at the men like some cursed mirror.
The Death Angel.
“God!” Gregor tried to help his friend to his feet, right up until the instant the long blade sunk into his torso.
As he fell to his knees, the Reaper wrenched the blade free, shouting “Tricks and treats!”
Blood pumped onto Theodore’s face, into his eyes. It was like a splash of cold water, shocking him awake.
Everett arced the harvesting blade into Gregor’s side.
Theodore sat up, ignoring the pain of his fall, and ran toward the low signal light, as he heard the meaty thunk of the third and final cut for Gregor—the one that removed his head.
Chapter 36
Dream Forever
As he stopped his horse alongside the two dozen or so others already tied to the trees behind Conal’s home, Friedrich Schroeder briefly considered turning around and going home. That was before he saw Beaufort Grandy step out from behind his horse. “Have you checked your horse’s shoes, Friedrich?” he asked.
“Yes,” Schroeder lied, as he eased off his horse and patted it.
“Come tomorrow,” the blacksmith said, “you’ll likely have a good spare mount or two.”
Schroeder grimaced at the remark’s implication—that men would die tonight and leave behind spoils.
“Shall I check your weapon?” asked the blacksmith.
“I haven’t loaded it yet.”
“We’re to be loaded and ready every minute,” Grandy rebuked. “Conal made it plain.”
“Yes, I…it’s been such a hectic night. I was lazy.”
“Let’s have it, then.” Grandy held out his hand. “I’ll make it ready.”
Schroeder went to his saddle, as if he expected to find his matchlock pistol tucked into it. “God help me. I’ve forgotten it.”
“Good God.” Grandy was disappointed but did not seem suspicious. He pointed at the wagon hitched to Schroeder’s horse. “Well, what did you remember?”
“It’s…wine. For preparation and celebration.”
“You think we’ll go on the attack with a headful of fire?” Now Grandy seemed suspicious.
“No, but…I’ll just need a small measure first.” He held out his hands, making them shake. “To steady my nerves. Thought others might need the same.”
Grandy cocked his head to regard Schroeder, appearing ruthlessly judgmental. “Let’s tote it in then.”
* * * *
Kemlin Farrady immediately came to meet Schroeder and Grandy as they carried in the crates of booze. “What useless clutter do you bring us, Friedrich?”
Farrady whipped away the cloth covering and glowered at the clinking jars. “We have serious business tonight, men. Take your swill out of here.”
Schroeder was searching for excuses to stall when the sounds of breakneck galloping sifted through the door. The men hurried outside to see Theodore arrive, his horse’s hooves tearing up the ground to stop.
“You’ll rouse the town, you fool!” Farrady hissed.
“The Angel of Death!” exclaimed Theodore, as he dismounted. “It’s come!”
Theodore dashed inside without tying his horse, leaving Farrady to do it.
“Get inside here and shut that door!” Theodore demanded. “Damn the horses!”
“You’ve taken leave of your senses, sir.”
“No! It took Gregor!” Theodore broke into a coughing fit, bending to put his hands on his knees. His gaze fell upon the liquor. “Give me that!”
“No! Not yet…” said Schroeder. “We have to…”
“What?” asked Farrady.
“If you had seen it, Friedrich. Its face…” said Theodore, worry lines filling with shadow.
“You’ve already drunk tonight, haven’t you?”
“I’ve never had a drop!” Theodore lunged past them to close the door.
“Stop this now, damn you!” Farrady tried to restrain him, but his fear-born strength was too much.
“It’s coming!”
Farrady ordered two of his men to go to the edge of the woods on horseback and have a look.
“No!” Theodore grabbed one of the men and tried to wrestle him to the ground. “You will die!”
Farrady turned Theodore around and slugged him hard, sending the younger man to his back on the stone floor. He took a matchlock from one of the men and pointed it at Theodore, inches from his face. “I’ll go myself. Keep this coward from moving.”
“Don’t go, Kemlin! Shut that door, and let’s all stay here till dawn.”
“You’ve joined with Bennington, haven’t you, son?”
“I don’t care about that any longer! I am not ready to die!”
Farrady arced the butt of the rifle into Theodore’s forehead, knocking him unconscious. “It’ll be sheer luck if you don’t, idiot.”
* * * *
“We can’t go!” Theodore repeated, hurrying to close the underground chamber’s
