Page 93 of No Man's Land

Keeping the Witch Light so bright seemed to be costing Lottie because her face looked pinched, and Violet had one hand on her elbow, helping her keep the light aloft. It was working, though, making the ghouls cower, faces covered. But Josef guessed they didn’t have much time.

Still squinting, he scanned the scabrous rags and writhing shapes of the ghouls in search of the only face he wanted to see. And dreaded seeing.

The glint of Witch Light on black hair drew his eye to a body slumped against the far wall.

Fear squeezed his voice down to a scratch. “There!” He tried again. “There. He’s there!”

Two ghouls were near him, crouched and snarling, eyes hidden by their arms. Josef lifted the gun, but they were so close to Alex that he didn’t dare fire. The light was dimming, though, Lottie struggling.

“Hurry,” Violet snapped.

Turning the gun in his hands, holding the barrel, Josef waded in. “Get away from him!” he shouted, swinging the grip of the gun at the closest ghoul. It hissed at him through rotting teeth, staring around blindly. Josef swung the pistol in a savage arc, connecting with its head and sending the creature staggering sideways, away from Alex. Desperation must have given him strength. He’d heard of such things happening at the front.

But as the light dimmed further, the ghouls began to grow braver. He saw movement from the corner of his eye, heard the crack of a gunshot ricochet around the small room, but didn’t have time to look. All his focus now was on Alex. He lay sprawled against the wall, eyes closed, his broken leg out in front of him. Unconscious? God in heaven, he hoped so.

Josef fell to his knees at Alex's side, shaking his shoulder. “Alex? Alex, wake up.”

“Just grab him,” Dutta yelled. He sounded breathless, pressed. “Now!”

Shoving the gun into his waistband, Josef scrambled up, getting his hands under Alex’s arms. He was heavy, a dead weight, but Josef had spent months manhandling dead weights at the front. Grunting, he pulled Alex away from the wall and began to drag him towards the door. His head lolled back alarmingly; Josef didn’t stop.

Movement in the growing shadows caught his eye, more graveyard-blue eyes staring at him from the dark. Crouched and poised. And then with a yell, Violet leaped in front of him, swinging her truncheon, warding them off. Dutta fired again, and one of the creatures dropped. As he reached the door, the Witch Light flared once more, bright and white, sending the remaining ghouls howling into the shadows long enough for him to pull Alex through the door. Lottie and Violet followed. Then came three measured gunshots before Dutta backed out of the room, slamming the door shut and leaning against it.

Violet gasped, “Lottie!” And everything went dark.

Crouching, Josef lowered Alex to the floor. “What happened? Is she all right?”

“I’m fine,” Lottie said, sounding exhausted. “Don’t fuss.”

And then the electric light of Dutta’s hand torch split the dark. He still stood with his back to the door, bracing it. Lottie sat on the floor next to Josef, Violet crouching at her side.

“She’s exhausted,” Violet said, with enough accusation in her voice to make it clear who she blamed for that.

“Is he alive?” Dutta said, cool and crisp as ever.

Josef put his hand to Alex’s throat, feeling for a pulse. Something else he’d learned in Ypres. Alex’s skin felt cool and clammy under his fingers, but after a nightmare couple of seconds, he found a faint, fluttering pulse. His own heart slammed into his ribs in relief. “Yes,” he said over his shoulder. “Yes, he’s alive.”

Behind him, he heard a rustle of skirts as Lottie climbed to her feet. “Vi,” she said, a little wobble in her voice, “see to his leg. I’ll prepare the enchantment.”

Violet began what sounded like a protest but swallowed whatever she was going to say. Instead, she began rummaging through her first aid bag. Josef let them get on with it, his attention fixed on Alex’s face.

“Alex,” he said gently, tapping his cheek. “Wake up. Come on, open your eyes.” He looked like himself, at least, though his skin was deathly white.

“He’ll need to swallow this,” Lottie said. She knelt on the other side of Alex, holding a stoppered glass vial of dark liquid. “You’ll have to sit him up.”

Nodding, Josef scooted behind Alex and hauled him up so that he was resting against Josef’s chest. He held him there, arms wrapped around Alex, pinning his arms to his sides.

Lottie noticed that with a nod. Violet, meanwhile, was tying off a professional-looking dressing on Alex’s leg.

“You need to hurry,” Dutta said tensely. When Josef looked over, he saw that Dutta was pressing hard against the door, which jumped under the assault from the other side. Violet scrambled up and went to join him, adding her weight to the door.

“Tip his head back,” Lottie said. “And be ready.”

Then she bent her head and began to murmur soft, slippery, impossible-to-grasp words, one hand holding the vial and her other hovering over it. For long seconds nothing happened, save the dull thuds on the door and Dutta and Violet’s answering grunts of effort.

But then the vial began to glow, a deep iridescent thread of amethyst swirling through the liquid, growing brighter. Lottie looked up, and for a moment, Josef saw that same opalescent glow in her eyes. “Now,” she said, lifting the vial.

Josef tipped back Alex’s head, prizing open his jaw, and Lottie poured the potion—no other word for it—down his throat. She clamped his mouth shut, and Alex immediately began to struggle.

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