Page 66 of Ghoul as a Cucumber

Pax screams, the Viking screams, and I scramble away as they leap at each other.

Their swords clash. Pax leaps onto a pew and attempts to stave the Viking’s head in with the pommel of his sword, but the Viking simply swipes Pax’s knees out from beneath him, sending Pax crashing to the floor. Both of their swords slide away across the marble floor. The Viking climbs on top of Pax, wrapping his huge hands around my Roman’s throat.

“No, stop!” I cry out.

Beside me, Ambrose squeezes my hand, dragging me back to the safety of the doorway.

“In Odin’s name, surrender!” the Viking yells, bearing his weight down on Pax’s throat.

“Never!” Pax manages to choke out.

He reaches up and pinches the Viking’s nose.

The Viking drops his hands from Pax’s throat and lets out a high-pitched yelp as he grips his face. Pax rolls away and dives for his sword, but the Viking kicks it away.

“You…you bug on Thor’s mighty hammer!” he cries as he goes after his own sword. He raises it above his head as he stalks toward Pax. “You foetid carbuncle on Loki’s wrinkled arse! I’ll…I’ll…”

“Stop!”

A black-clad figure rushes from the sacristy.

“No, no, this won’t do. Please, Björn, lay down your weapon. These are our guests.”

To my utter surprise, the beast immediately lowers his sword and slinks back, looking sullen.

“Pax!” Never letting go of Ambrose, I rush to Pax and help him to his feet. Pax coughs and rubs his throat, but he seems unhurt. He looks in confusion at the newcomer. “Am I fighting you instead? Do you think this a wise battle to choose? You are puny and will snap like a twig.”

“I will indeed, friend.” The man places his hand on Pax’s shoulder. “Which is why there will be no blood spilt in this church. Come with me, all of you. I was just brewing a cup of tea.”

“So no battle?” Pax looks disappointed.

“No battle, but I do have a chocolate log, and some Jammy Dodgers, if that’s any consolation. And I can even converse in your native Latin if you prefer.” The man looks over at me and winks. It’s only then that I realise that his outfit is a priest’s black robe.

This must be the priest that Abberline was talking about, but…

“You…you know that Pax is…”

“A Roman warrior?” The priest smiles. “Yes. I recognise the design of his sword and the timbre of his insults. Funnily enough, he’s not the first Roman warrior I’ve encountered.”

“And your friend isn’t a Dungeonmaster, but…”

“Bjorn is a Viking from the 9th century AD, yes.” The priest taps the beast’s leather armour. “He was killed by the monks defending this monastery from sacking, and he haunted the churchground for several centuries. But now he is flesh and blood, like your two friends here. Come into the sacristy with me. I see that we have much to discuss.”

25

Bree

The priest leads us through the small, gothic arch to the left of the altar and through a small room housing the robes and other implements for Holy Mass. At the rear of the room is another arched door, which he pushes open.

Inside is a small sitting room, containing mismatched wooden chairs, a desk shoved under the window, and piles of books cluttering every surface. Mina and Quoth would feel right at home here. A cup of tea and a half-eaten slice of chocolate log sit beside the torn leather armchair. Another armchair with stuffing coming loose sits facing his desk.

The priest gestures to the chairs. “Please, make yourselves at home. I’ll cut you some chocolate log. The kettle will take a few minutes to boil.”

I help Ambrose find the edge of the first armchair, and he settles in. I shuffle some books off the chair opposite his and sink down. The priest heads into a small kitchenette, sets a kettle on the gas hob, and pulls out three mismatched cups. He lifts the lid off a biscuit tin to reveal a perfectly baked chocolate log. Björn offers him a dagger, but the priest waves him off and pulls a cake slicer and some saucers from the cupboard and starts serving generous slices.

“That’s my slice.” Pax grabs the tin from the priest’s hands and swipes his finger in the cream.

“No, it’s mine.” Björn grabs for the tin, but Pax holds it out of reach.

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