“Bernard Leach.” He said nothing more until they were across the hall and through the open door of the taproom. It was perfectly dark and smelled of years upon years of ale. “Keep your voice down. Bernard is a Cornishman I’ve known all my life. We need a light, I can’t see a damned thing. Stay put. I’m going to get the candle.”
He was back in a moment, the candlelight shining upward, setting his face in relief, making him look like the devil himself.
“I wouldn’t have married you if it were dark like this and you were holding a candle. You look evil, Thomas.”
“You hold it then,” he said, and then laughed low when he saw her pale face lighted by the candle flame. “You have the look of a succubus.”
“Not a good thing,” Meggie said and shuddered even as she walked toward the long bar and raised the candle to look behind it. “If I have a child, he or she will be a demon or a witch. Did you know that Merlin was supposedly spawned by an incubus? That’s a male succubus.”
“No, I didn’t know that,” he said.
“Where could everyone have gone? Perhaps there was an accident in the village.”
“It’s possible. St. Agnes village is still a half mile to the west. Bernard’s grandfather built the inn in an oak forest because he liked his privacy.”
They went through the entire downstairs, ending up in the small cramped kitchen. That was where they found Bernard Leach lying unconscious in the middle of a pile of flour, blood from his head seeping into the white flour.
Thomas went down beside him and felt for a pulse in his neck. “Bernard, wake up. Dammit, man, come on, wake up now!”
The man, older, grizzled gray hair, thin as a broom handle, a huge white apron wrapped around his middle, moaned, then opened his eyes. “Oh God, be it you, Thomas?”
“Aye, you old buzzard. You just gave me a mighty scare. Where is everyone? What the hell has happened?”
Bernard clutched at Thomas’s shirt. “Oh my lord, Thomas, it was the Grakers. You know about the Grakers, don’t you?”
“I think I’ve heard the name but now, I don’t know. Who are the Grakers?”
“Not who, Thomas. They’re not people. They’re not of this world. They come and they destroy and then they leave again.”
“All right, what are the Grakers? Where are they?”
“They’re like your English pixies, they live under rocks and in caves and only come out at night. But they’re not like pixies, they’re vicious, attacking if they’re displeased with you.”
“You’re telling me that some sort of evil pixie came to your inn, took you in dislike, and smashed you on the head?”
“It weren’t quite that simple,” Bernard said, and struggled to sit up. He moaned, gently rubbed his head.
Meggie said, “Let me get you some water, sir. How do you feel?”
“Is that a girl I hear? She shouldn’t be here, Thomas. God only knows what the Grakers left upstairs. They scared off all the guests, but I have this very bad feeling that they did something she’s not going to want to see. Aye, they’re mightily displeased with me. I kilt one of them. It was an accident, I swear it, but they don’t believe me. They came for their revenge.”
Thomas shook his head. “First things first.” Thomas took a wet cloth from Meggie, motioned for her to hold the candle closer, and examined the wound. “It isn’t bad, just a single blow. After I take care of you, Bernard, I’ll go upstairs and see if there’s anyone else here. Where’s Marie?”
“Marie?” Bernard frowned. “Your wife, Bernard.”
“Oh my lord, I’m in a bad way here, my boy. Marie—I don’t know, I just don’t know. What if the Grakers hurt her, Thomas?”
“I will go search the rest of the inn. You will stay here and rest.”
“But who is this girl?”
“This is my wife.”
“Ah, your wife. Ain’t she a pretty one? Look at all the lovely hair, can’t make up its mind what color it wants to be.”
“That’s enough, Bernard. Your head should hurt too much for you to flirt with her. All right, I’m going to help you to that chair and you will rest until I see what’s going on here. Do you have a lantern?”