Free Ella, The Slayer by A W. Exley

conflagration, before someone picked up the stained fabric. Turning, I found Seth deMage. He watched me with a strange look on his face. I caught my breath at the sight. Seth was immaculate once again, in his linen shirt and buff trousers. I could see the light reflected in the shine on his shoes. Yet again, I had managed to encounter the duke, and I was as filthy as a hedge-dwelling vagabond.
    He gave me the strangest look, as though he could not identify what I was. All I could think of was the blood and dirt on my clothing and that the Duke of Leithfield had just witnessed me executing a defenceless woman. Was he horrified? He didn't say a word. He just stood there, his grey eyes unreadable.
    I pulled my gaze from Seth's to take Reverend Mason by the arm. "Let's get you inside until this is gone," I said.
    "Let me help." Seth came to life and put the vicar's arm around his neck.
    "Thank you." I lead the way as we took him inside.
    Seth lowered the cleric to a chair while I set the kettle to boil. In silence, the duke picked up the furniture and righted the room. I grabbed a broom and cleaned what I could. I swept the mess out to the courtyard to be picked up and carried away by the passing breeze.
    With the room somewhat straightened, I pressed a cup of sweet tea into the vicar's hands. "Where is Mrs Mason, today? How fortunate she was not here. She hates to see her kitchen in a mess."
    "Yes. Blessed she was not here," he whispered with eyes that were so lost. "She is shopping and will return later. Thank you my child, and may God have mercy on your soul for the heinous crime you have committed."
    A tear sprang to my eyes, and I wiped it away before the duke could see. I am cursed for the role I play, my soul dammed to hell, and yet they needed me — desperately. I willingly took up the burden for them all.
    I smiled and patted his hand. Mrs Mason died in the first wave of the pandemic. Having to fend off his wife while covered in the dirt from her grave had unhinged the vicar's mind. One of the neighbours would see the smoke and check on him. The older ladies always brought him a hot meal in the evenings, while we all kept up the pretence that Mrs Mason would return shortly. There was no more I could do here, so I left. Outside, the footfalls of the duke sounded behind me.
    "He is not the man I remember. Reverend Mason always seemed so large, and he gave such stern sermons, I thought he would be a pillar of strength in this time." He rubbed the back of his neck and gestured back to the house. "He looks like he has lost his faith."
    I stared at this stranger. The new Duke of Leithfield commanded the allegiance of the district in name only. We did not know him, nor him us. Born to preside over us, and yet he had spent so little time walking these plains and hills. None of us recognised him, none of us had anything but the vaguest memories of him. I was surprised to hear he even knew who Father Mason was, let alone that he had once sat through a sermon.
    "Reverend Mason didn't lose his faith. It was torn up and trampled into the ground before him. These were his flock. He consigned their souls to God, and they were flung back to earth." I pointed to the funeral pyre, where a horrible sickly smoke spiralled up to the sky. Did her soul return to the heavens? Or had it never left? "Where in the Bible do you explain what has happened here?"
    "I don't know," he whispered. That grey gaze focused on me, storm clouds rolling over a trouble sky. "I thought he would be the village's spine, giving comfort to those under his care. I came to visit him to ask his advice on a matter."
    I shook my head. It would be easy to condemn him for not being here, yet I remembered he had fought in a different war to protect us. "Everyone reacts differently. Reverend Mason needs time to find his purpose once more." We were abandoned babes; we could find no solace in the Bible for what happened around the globe. The dead should stay buried in the