The Battle of Kildare happened on two fronts.
Skorzeny had been smuggling mercenaries into Ireland for several weeks in anticipation of the raid he had planned. The Department was aware of it, and was planning to intercept them all in the woods before they could reach the farm.
But they had not anticipated the sheer numbers who answered his call. Skorzeny had enough men to divide his forces into two teams. One to approach from the woods and flush out the residents and the other to act as a backstop along the road that fronted the estate. And if you believe Skorzeny was just the sort of person to name the two groups “Team Hammer” and “Team Anvil”, you’ll soon find your faith rewarded.
Team Hammer was intercepted by Containment as they crossed the Mill Road. There was a brief exchange of gunfire before the Hexenjagers realised they were outnumbered and surrounded, and either dropped their guns or fled.
But the gunfire was enough to alert Team Anvil that something had gone wrong. They advanced on the house to meet its residents who were fleeing the other way. They killed six of the nine women living there. Four of the the dead weren’t even witches; they were simply women who had sought safe haven from abusive partners, which was a resource in limited supply in 1960s Ireland. In addition to the nine women present, the estate housed fourteen children.
Team Anvil also killed two of the children.
When sunset came, Sir Arthur and I, along with Murtagh and Galligan’s team, entered the cottage that had been set aside for the Archbishop. He was already awake and dressed in full regalia, sitting in a large and old-fashioned armchair in the front room, with a Turkish tea-service on the low table beside him. He cradled a cup in both hands.
“You heard, I presume,” said Sir Arthur, taking the seat opposite.
“I did,” replied Augustine. He poured another cup of tea and passed it to Sir Arthur.
“I know I don’t have to ask. But, for the record…”
Augustine looked about the various faces in the room before settling on mine. He narrowed his eyes then said very slowly and deliberately, “I have not left this building since arriving here immediately after the reception. I have killed no human being in more than a century.” He then took a sip of his tea and added, “And that was in wartime.”
I looked to Sir Arthur. “You’ve known him longer than I have. You believe him?” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Galligan shift his weight uneasily. One hand moved towards his shoulder-holster then dropped again.
“I do,” said Sir Arthur. “I never doubted it. We may have had our differences over the years, but I do not doubt his adherence to the protocols.”
“Great,” I said to Arthur, as Galligan visibly relaxed in my peripheral. “Now, Sir, if you could tell me where you were a few hours before dawn?”
A pin dropping would not have disturbed the silence, only because the pin would have frozen half-way to the floor in surprise.
I was standing at Sir Arthur’s shoulder, so he had to twist and look back up at me to make eye contact. He raised one eyebrow while the Arch-Bishop sipped his tea with a wry smile.
“You understand that this is the Magistrate’s territory, yes? No rules of hospitality were broken if he killed his own man," said Augustine.
“You’re still citizens of Ireland,” I said. “There are laws, in addition to your protocols.”
Sir Arthur chuckled. “I had no hand in the death of Woods,” he said. “I slept from when I got back to my bungalow until you woke me, opening the front door a short time ago.”
I looked to the Arch-Bishop. “Well?”
“Better answer him, Augustine,” said Sir Arthur. “You don’t want an obstruction of justice charge on your record.”
Augustine gazed at Sir Arthur carefully then said, “I have known this man since he arrived at the Gates of Babylon with his possessions in a sack and dirt on his bare feet. I would not say I trust him. But in this case, I believe him.”
“It could have done without the reminiscing, but thank you,” said Sir Arthur. “Now, shall we wake the others?”
Hamilton and Sissy had been assigned the cottage furthest from the main house. We had not expected two vampires, so had constructed only one crate for sleeping in, but Hamilton had assured us that they would 'make do'.
He opened the door at our first knock and beckoned us inside. He seemed groggy, but not that surprised to see us. He led us all the way to the back bedroom where Sissy was sitting cross-legged on top of the plywood box. A rumpled pile of blankets lay on the floor alongside it. Sir Arthur and Augustine entered behind me and spread to my right and left. Galligan and Murtagh stayed in the hallway.
Sissy held a mug in her hands and took a long slow sip from it with her eyes closed. I didn’t want to glance inside, but curiosity got the better of me and I saw it was just green tea. She opened her eyes to see me staring and winked quickly before closing them again.
“What’s this about, officer?” she asked. “Were we speeding?”
Hamilton laughed as he collapsed into the lone armchair and began pulling on his boots. “I didn’t request a wake-up call. Something happened while we slept?”
“There was a murder,” I said. “Someone killed Mister Woods, just before dawn.”
Sissy’s eyes snapped open and she glared at me and then Hamilton in turn.
Hamilton examined his boot laces carefully. “And you believe we may have had something to do with it?”
“The murder was… vicious. It was someone with supernatural strength,” I replied. “The suspect pool is limited.”
Hamilton inhaled deeply. “It couldn’t have been anyone here. I don’t smell any blood.”
“Whoever did it,” interrupted Sir Arthur, “made it to a pool in the woods with certain magical properties. It would have removed the scent.”
Hamilton finished lacing his boots and stood. “Fascinating. You wish to speak to us about it, I presume? Together or separately?”
“Were you together the whole night?” I asked. “After you left the reception?”
“I heard you go out,” said Sissy, who had closed her eyes again. She swayed as if she was listening to music. “The door opened and closed. Twice!”
He glared at her then turned to me. “Yes. I left the cottage before dawn.”
“We’ll talk to you one at a time, I think.”
Augustine volunteered to sit with Hamilton while Murtagh, Sir Arthur, and I escorted Sissy to the main house. Inside, the reception room had been tidied and rearranged for the meeting that was supposed to take place that night. The long table now sat in the centre of the room with five chairs arranged about it, one at the head, one at the foot, and one on one long side opposite two on the other. A sideboard was loaded with folders and maps that Sir Arthur had spent the last few months compiling, and four electronic tablets sat on charging stations in the centre of the table.
I gestured to one of the seats on the opposite side of the table, where she would have sat during the intended meeting, and took the chair intended for Don Juan Perez on the other side.
Sir Arthur sat at the head of the table and steepled his fingers.
“So, let’s begin with the basics,” I said. “Your name is Sissy? Susan?”
“Susan O’Connell,” she said. “Two Ss, two Os, three Ns and two Ls. And some other letters.”
I smiled, despite myself. “And you were born in Derry?”
“I was actually born in Wexford,” she said. “But we moved about a lot. My mammy settled in Derry, though, when I was a girl.”
“And your father?”
“Dead, I hope. Fingers crossed and touch wood.” She punctuated the sentence by tapping her temple with two crossed fingers. “He wasn’t a very nice man.”
“And how did you meet Hamilton?”
She stared deep into the middle distance for some time -- long enough that I was about to repeat the question -- when her attention snapped back and she said, “Lady York took us in. She was nice. She gave us a home for a while, but then she disappeared round about when I finished school. Mammy died too and Owen began visiting the city a few years later. He needed someone who knew about our world… The safe spots and the hidden parts. A few years later, he blessed me, and I moved to his castle. Do you know he has a castle?”
“He seems the type, now you mention it.”
“It’s oh so grand. But I missed home and now we’re there again.”
Sir Arthur harrumphed. He did so quietly, but if I could hear it, so could Sissy.
“After last night’s party, you and Owen went right back to your cottage?”
“We did.”
“And what time was that?”
She looked at me with a bewilderment expression on her face.
“The reception ended at about five forty-five,” offered Sir Arthur. “One hour before sunrise.”
“That’s right,” said Sissy. We went to bed. He let me have the light-tight box but I gave him some blankets from it.” She leaned forward and broke out into a grin. “Next time, we’d like a box big enough for two.”
“I’ll make a note of that,” I said. “You say you then heard him leave the house?”
“I heard the door open, yeah. Then it closed. Then a long time went by. Then it opened and closed again. Then the sun came up.”
“How do you know this was before sunrise?”
“Oh, we can feel the sun. When it’s up, it looms.”
I looked to Sir Arthur, who nodded. “We have a certain sense of its position, yes.”
This was news to me. “Did you hear anything else?” I asked Sissy.
“No, I fell asleep. The sun being up makes me drowsy. But Owen says that will go away with time. I’m still new.”
I did some quick calculations. “You’ve been a vampire for thirty-eight years, and you’re still ‘new’?”
“But every day, in every way, I’m getting better and better,” she said and then laughed like it was the funniest joke in the world.
Murtagh brought her back to her bungalow and Galligan brought Hamilton to the main house. As he was getting seated, Murtagh returned with a concerned look on his face.
“Don Juan Perez is awake,” he said. “And he knows something is wrong.”
“Shite. I was hoping he was the type to sleep in. Tell him I’ll speak to him soon and ask him to wait in his house. If he refuses, bring him to the Arch-Bishop.”
Murtagh saluted briskly and left.
I turned back to Hamilton and sat. “Sorry about that. Lots to juggle.”
He nodded slowly without saying anything.
“Let’s just get the formalities out of the way. You are Owen Hamilton, Lord of-”
“Laird of Islay.”
“My apologies,” I said. “And how old are you, if it is not too personal a question?”
He considered me and then Sir Arthur. “I was born in 1654,” he said eventually.
“And you spent your whole life in Scotland?”
“Oh, no,” he said with a smile. “I spent much of my early life in Russia. Then Africa, then Argentina by way of Brazil. I only settled in Islay again after the Great War.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sir Arthur leaning in on one elbow. He opened his mouth, as if to ask a question, but then closed it again. Yeah, Hamilton may be a murderer, but he might also have stories to tell. If the vampires did end up tying Hamilton to a stake for the sunrise, I expect Sir Arthur would first demand he fill in some blank spots in his Chronicles.
“And you moved to Ireland in the 80s?” I asked Hamilton.
“I visited Lady York several times before she died, and then travelled to Derry afterwards for short stays, but no. I didn’t actually move to the city until about three years ago.”
“OK. Tell me what happened last night and this morning.”
“Sissy and I got back to our room after the reception. I found this in my trouser pocket.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a very tightly-rolled piece of paper that he dropped onto the table.
I took it and carefully unfurled it. In block capitals were the words: IF YOU SEEK AN ALLIANCE MEET ME AT THE GAZEBO BEFORE DAWN. COME ALONE AND TELL NOBODY.
“Mysterious.”
“I thought so,” he said. “I presumed they meant the gazebo in the south garden. Is there another on the estate?”
I passed the note to Sir Arthur who read it and then flipped it over to examine the reverse. He then shook his head. “Nothing else that might be called a gazebo, no. Did you go?”
“I did,” said Hamilton. Though I wasn’t about to just wait in full view of the world, so I watched it from the woods. To see who showed up.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“One of your security patrols passed me. But they didn’t see me. Nobody arrived at the Gazebo and I left about ten minutes before sunrise.”
“Is it possible someone else arrived and did what you did? Hid so you didn’t see them?”
It was Hamilton's turn to harrumph. “I’ve hunted just about every creature to walk on this planet in my lifetime. I’ve spent literally years, added all together, in blinds and dugouts, waiting and watching. Trust me when I tell you that no other vampire got within a hundred yards.”
“But one did get close enough to you, undetected, to drop a note in your trouser pocket?” I asked.
He raised a finger in anger, then paused. The finger slowly curled back and he dropped his hand again. “I admit, I am at a loss to explain how that happened.” He flopped back into his chair, defeated. “Also, the note carried no scent but my own.”
His defeat seemed genuine to me. But I pressed on. “And did you see or hear anything else suspicious? Any screams in the distance? Did you smell any blood when returning to your cottage?”
He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. I could see his eyes flickering below his eyelids as he performed whatever mental exercises he’d honed over four centuries. Either that, or he was putting on a show for a ‘lesser mortal’. Eventually he opened his eyes again and met my stare with his own.
“I can’t say for sure,” he said, “as it was quite windy and the wind was from the wrong direction, but there may have been a noise about fifteen minutes before I left to go back to my rooms. A banging sound, perhaps.”
“That’s something, I suppose. One last question… Who do you think slipped you that note?”
Hamilton drummed his fingers and then said, “I’m at a loss, if I am to be honest. But if I had to guess, I would say the Spaniard. It only makes sense that the North and the West should ally against the ongoing partnership of the East and the South.”
Sir Arthur slammed a fist into the table. “That is a vile calumny. The Archbishop and I have a long-standing relationship, but we do not bring that into the politics of the Island. All we desire is an ongoing peace.”
“My apologies,” said Hamilton, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I did not mean to imply anything underhanded. Though, and with all due respect, if one of you has the ability to approach me and plant a note on my person without me noticing, it is Don Juan Perez. I understand he still hunts in the wild too.”
“Beasts only,” I said. Though I may have phrased it more as a question than I intended.
“Of course. It is the twenty-first century. I only hunt for sport, these days. Acquiring blood for feeding is too simple a matter to complicate with murder or missing persons. Though is it true the Don feeds on his kills?”
“Thank you for your time,” said Sir Arthur, standing suddenly. “Mister Murtagh will bring you back to your cottage.”
I stood too, as did Hamilton, who seemed as surprised by the abrupt end to the interview as I was. He left with Murtagh and I was alone with the Magistrate. “Well, you’ve been a judge for more than a few years. How do you balance the testimony so far?”
“The girl is hard to read,” he said. “She seems…”
“Unhinged?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” he said with a note of disapproval.
“She’s Lady Ophelia, but slightly less grounded in reality.”
Sir Arthur smirked a little. I could always get him back on-side with a literary reference. “As for Mister Hamilton, he’s quite the opposite. Every move of his was controlled. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he had rehearsed that whole conversation.”
“How likely is it that he arranged the murder to draw focus away from his arrival? You’re all so concerned now whether he killed Woods, you’re not talking about if he is allowed to take over Stewardship of the North?”
Sir Arthur considered this for a moment, then said, “It would be a very risky strategy. The matter of Lady York’s territory is not one we can simply overlook, no matter how urgent any new business is.”
“If there’s a scenario where he shows up and then one of you is caught violating the hospitality laws? What happens then? Is he more or less likely to get accepted by the rest of you?”
“That would be a rather chaotic scenario,” said Sir Arthur. “But I have to admit, historically speaking, skilled manipulators have always been able to manage such chaos to their advantage.”
“Do you have him pegged as such a manipulator?”
“Not at all. But that does not mean he doesn’t see himself in such a light.”
There was a knock at the door, and I opened it to Murtagh in the hall. Behind him stood Don Juan Perez de Silva. The Spaniard loomed, somehow even above Murtagh who could block out the sun on a good day.
“What is going on?” he demanded, shoving past Murtagh.
“There was a murder this morning,” I said. “We’re speaking to everyone, one at a time.”
De Silva snarled, and his face took on a new ferocity. “I know who did it,” he said through a mouth full of fangs. “Let me kill them for you.”
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