Back to Hell

Arthur Doyle stood in the doorway of Drake Manor. He was struck by how sober it seemed in comparison to other wealthy families' mansions. A wrought-iron gate, set in the centre of a light grey brick wall, led into a small, well-kept garden, with a red-tiled path leading up to the front door of the house, with a light-toned sandstone façade. A round table, surrounded by three arched benches, all of white stone, stood to the left of the driveway under the shade of a young oak tree. To the right of the path were several rows of colourful flowers of different varieties in elongated red brick planters.

Arthur advanced towards the front door, which consisted of two walnut slats with gilt hardware and a large knocker in the shape of a smoking pipe, the thicker side of which rested on a plate that was also gilded but had lost a little of its lustre through use. Arthur lifted the knocker and knocked.

After a few seconds the door opened and he was greeted by a butler of medium height, grey hair and a bushy, arched moustache that continued to join his bushy, but modestly trimmed, sideburns.

- Good morning, sir, - the butler greeted. - Whom shall I announce and for whom is this visit?

- Arthur Doyle, I am here to see Ruslan Drake.

- Please come in, I will let young master Ruslan know you are here.

- Thank you.

Arthur stepped through the door and the butler closed behind him. The hall was impressive in its simplicity and elegance. Oak marquetry adorned the light beige walls, contrasting with a dark walnut floor. The butler invited him to sit at a small round table with a couple of oak chairs. The butler left and a few seconds later returned through a side door with a small tray with a steaming cup, a sugar bowl and a saucer of pastries.

- Am I right in thinking that the gentleman prefers coffee to tea? - asked the butler politely. Arthur just nodded, somewhat overwhelmed. The butler added, - Please enjoy the refreshment while you wait for young master Ruslan. I will go and let him know of your visit immediately.

The butler made his way to the walnut stairs, carpeted in pale red with geometric patterns in light beige, and with an oak banister. He disappeared down the left-hand corridor on the first floor. Arthur picked up the cup and savoured the coffee, it had a perfect acidity, he had always preferred coffee black and unsweetened, it helped him to awaken his senses and stay alert.

A few minutes later he saw Constance Perry emerge from the kitchen still devouring a roast beef sandwich with a plate in her left hand. She stood still, chewing, and raised the sandwich in greeting. Arthur reciprocated by raising his mug. And they both burst out laughing.

- I see you are very cheerful in the morning.

Ruslan's voice came to them from the top of the steps, and they both looked back at their friend, who was coming down the stairs towards them, with his old butler in tow.

- Nice house, Ruslan, very elegant, - Arthur said.

- My mother has always had good taste, - he replied.

- What are you doing here, Arth - Connie said, still chewing part of her sandwich.

- Connie, you can swallow before you ask, don't worry, - Ruslan said, amused.

- A lady should take better care of her image, - the butler said in a snooty tone.

Connie swallowed haphazardly and looked at the butler.

- Stanley please, I've told you not to treat me like a damsel.

- Would you rather I treat you like a gentleman?

- Stan, don't tease Connie so much, - Ruslan said, and gave Stanley a friendly pat on the shoulder.

- Master Ruslan, - Stanley began, but Ruslan's gesture made him restart the sentence. - Ruslan, all right. I understand that a certain familiarity is preferred in this house, and I really appreciate it. But don't you think we should at least keep up appearances in front of the guests?

- Don't worry Stan, Arth is like family, - Ruslan said.

- Then he'll be cured of fright, - the old butler mumbled, squinting his eyes upwards as he headed for the kitchen.

- He's quite a character, your friend Stanley, - Arthur said.

- He's always been there when we've needed him, he's a good friend, and very loyal to the family.

Arthur got up and walked over to Ruslan, who shook his outstretched hand.

- Anyway, I've come about our 'business', - Arthur commented.

- When can we see your contacts? - Ruslan asked.

- Today, we just have to pick up Abygaile on our way to my old friend Thorne's armoury.

Ruslan grabbed his hat and coat and headed for the door.

- Wait for me! - Connie mumbled, hastily shoving the rest of her sandwich into her mouth and leaving her plate on the hall table to follow them out the door.

Once on the streets of London, the three of them headed north for nearly an hour. Abygaile stood outside the door of his house, a humble street-level dwelling in the working-class neighbourhood. When she saw them, she waved at them.

- It's about time, - she said angrily.

- Patience is a virtue, - Arthur replied.

Abygaile's angry look was not enough to intimidate Arthur, who patted the young woman affectionately on the shoulder.

- And remember, prolonged anger makes for a wizened face, - Doyle recited.

- Arthur, never leave the army, - Abygaile replied viciously. - Because as a poet you won't earn enough to get ahead.

Ruslan pulled his hat over his face to avoid being seen to laugh. Constance burst out laughing.

- Come on, let's get down to business, - Arthur replied, a little sullenly.

It took them another half hour to reach the workshop of master gunsmith Augustus Thorne. Ruslan had always wanted to see that workshop; Thorne was an eminence in the field of weapons. Many were those who vied for one of his weapons, but Thorne was also known for his eccentricities. He only made custom-made weapons, and only if he decided that the buyer would be able to use them to good advantage. That is why it was so difficult to see a Thorne gun outside his workshop, few had ever lived up to his expectations.

As they entered the workshop, they saw that the place was full of dust, with hardly any guns on display. An old man, somewhat stooped by now, but portly, came out of a door leading to the back of the workshop. His bald head glistened with sweat, and his long grey beard reached down to his chest.

- Gus, - Arthur greeted.

- Arth, - the gunsmith replied. - What brings you here, and who are these three little rookies?

- Augustus Thorne - Arthur proceeded with the introductions. - These are Abygaile Mackintosh, Constance Perry and Ruslan Drake.

- OK, - the old craftsman said without a care in the world. - And what the hell do you want?

- They need arms and ammunition for a little trip to Galia, to the Normandy front.

Thorne stared at them, assessing them.

- Do you know how to use a gun? - he asked.

Ruslan, Abygaile and Connie nodded.

- I don't normally give a gun to just anyone, but Arthur has stuck up for the three of you, and he always gets it right. Come inside.

He walked back through the door through which he had appeared and the rest followed him immediately. They found themselves in the work area of the workshop, a forge lit up the large room, moulds and smithing tools hung on the walls.

- What weapons do you need?

- Ruslan, you are the expert, - Arthur said, Connie and Abygaile nodded.

- Why me? - Ruslan asked. - Connie is as experienced as I am.

- Come on - said Constance. - You got a perfect score in all your shooting practice in the last few months. Besides, I always get excited when it comes to choosing, and then I don't know which one to choose.

- Well? - Thorne fixed his hawkish gaze on Ruslan.

- Well, we need the following, each weapon adapted to its user.

- Of course, I don't do it any other way, - the gunsmith replied seriously.

- For Constance a lever-action rifle and a 9 mm pistol.

- I have a new model of pistol that might fit her, it has an attachable stock and allows for burst fire.

- Perfect, - said Ruslan. - For Abygaile, a bolt-action rifle with a telescopic sight, but with a shortened barrel, like a carbine. And a .38 revolver.

- I understand.

- For me a 12-gauge pump shotgun and two long-barrelled semi-automatic .45 pistols.

- That's easy to get, - Thorne replied, and stared at Ruslan, as if taking his measure. - How much do you weigh, big fellow?

- About 150 kilos, why? - Ruslan asked.

- I want to show you something, it'll come in handy, - Thorne said with an air of complicity.

The armourer walked over to a counter and motioned for them to follow him. On the counter was an object covered with a cloth. When they uncovered it, they saw a huge revolver, the size of its barrel must have fired a monstrous ammunition. The gunsmith turned to Ruslan.

- Take it, - he urged.

Ruslan took it in his left hand, noticed how heavy it was, passed it to his right hand and lifted it up to align the sights with his eye. Connie's eyes popped out of their sockets at the sight of the gigantic contraption.

- Would you like to try it? - Thorne asked Ruslan.

- Of course, I would.

The old craftsman took out a practice target and placed it at one end of the workshop, and put a rather thick steel plate covering the front of the target. Then he instructed Ruslan to stand at the other end of the long workshop room.

- Load it with this, - said Thorne, handing Ruslan a huge cartridge, at least 10 cm long and 15 mm thick, it was quite heavy, and the bullet ended in a very pronounced conical point, as if it were a rifle bullet.

Ruslan put the bullet into the cylinder of the revolver and closed it, cocked the gun and aimed at the centre of the steel plate of the target. When he pulled the trigger, the detonation sounded like an explosion, but with a metallic echo. The recoil caused a reverberation throughout Ruslan's mechanical arm. The impact rang out with great intensity. The bullet tore through the thick metal plate, the practice target, and embedded itself in the stone wall at the back of the room, cracking it.

- Bloody hell, - said Arthur, rubbing his ears. - What a piece of cannon.

- It's an armour-piercing revolver. A military officer ordered it but decided he didn't want it when the recoil broke his hand and forearm when he fired it the first time, - Thorne said disdainfully, and looking at Ruslan he added. - It's yours, you're the only one who's been able to fire it without shattering a bone. The weapon always chooses its bearer.

Ruslan admired the silver finish of the revolver, the smooth reinforced cylinder and the walnut stock. It was a magnificent weapon, and it fit his hand perfectly, almost as if it had been custom-made for him.

- Thanks, I can make use of it.

- I'll adjust the barrel compensator a bit so you don't lose so much sight alignment from the recoil. Pick up all the guns first thing tomorrow morning.

Connie, Ruslan and Abygaile headed for the exit, but before Arthur could follow, Thorne held him back.

- He's an interesting fellow, that Ruslan, - he said to the old sergeant.

- Yes, he caught my eye from the moment I met him, - Arthur replied. - He always surprises you, when you think something is impossible, he counters it by pulling it off.

- You like him, - said Thorne. - I thought you had no favourites among your pupils.

- He's not my pupil, - Arthur replied. - He's better than me.

The two men shook hands and Arthur Doyle left his old friend's workshop as he set to work on the job he had to finish by the next morning.

Arthur then led them through the streets to the port of London, where they were to meet the fisherman who was to take them to the French coast. They found him at the mooring of his trawler, the boat was small, designed for fishing in coastal areas and shallow waters, such as those of the channel that separated Albion from Galia.

- Fred - Arthur greeted.

- Arthur, mon ami, - the fisherman said with a thick Galian accent.

- This is Fredérique la Fontaine, - Arthur said, introducing him to his friends. - Fred. These are your passengers Constance, Abygaile and Ruslan.

- Gee, I don't know if this big guy will fit in the cabin, - Fred said looking Ruslan up and down.

- I'll duck if I must, - Ruslan said sarcastically. - I'm used to it.

- Fred, they have to leave tomorrow. Is that possible?

- Of course, mes amis, of course. If we leave by nightfall, we'll get there without being seen by my ex-patriots.

- Are you from Galia? - Ruslan asked.

- I was, but 10 years ago I fell in love with and married a stout Albian woman, et je suis ici," Fredérique replied. - C'est la vie, Ruslan, l'amour makes us lose our heads sometimes, c'est pas ça?

- Fred, you'll have to arrive before dawn, understood?

- Pas de problème, Arthur.

Fredérique gave Arthur a hug and they said goodbye. Then Ruslan, Connie, Abygaile and Arthur went to meet Colonel McGregor for documentation and the latest information from the Galian front. The Witch of Boswick was almost empty at that time in the afternoon, the workers had not yet left the factories to spend some of their wages drowning their sorrows before returning to their families. McGregor was waiting for them at the same table they had occupied the previous time, this time he was also in civilian clothes.

- He knows that even though he's not in uniform, anyone can tell he's in the military, right? - Connie said quietly. Abygaile and Ruslan smiled at the joke, but Doyle urged them to be quiet.

They walked over and took a seat next to McGregor.

- Here are the documents proving that you work for the Military Police, - the colonel handed them three folded documents, one to Ruslan, one to Abygaile and one to Connie. - With these you should have the authority to deal with any officer up to the rank of colonel.

- What do you know about my brother? - Abygaile asked anxiously.

- At the moment we only know his last position, near the village of Carentan, a couple of days' walk from Albion headquarters on the Normandy coast.

- News from the front? - Ruslan asked.

- Our forces are advancing inland. Meanwhile, the Germans have overrun northern Galia by land. Our forces are combing every village and town to avoid ambushes and cuts in the supply line. Carentan is off their route, so you shouldn't find many of our units nearby. Nor any opposition from the Galian army, but I can't tell you anything about the partisans or the civilians themselves.

- All right, we'll try to avoid the roads, so we don't run into trouble, - Ruslan said thoughtfully.

- If we could get ground transport, we could get there more easily, - Connie suggested.

- No, if Abygaile's brother has been betrayed by people in our forces, we could end up leading them to their target. We need to keep a low profile for everyone, - Ruslan replied.

- Exactly, - McGregor emphasized. - You don't know who you can trust.

McGregor and Doyle said goodbye to Abygaile, Ruslan and Connie as they left the tavern, the three of them heading in the opposite direction to the two soldiers, towards Drake Manor.

- I should be getting home, - said Abygaile.

- We will accompany you, - said Ruslan, but Constance interrupted him.

- No way, let her come with us, so it will be easier to organise tomorrow.

- I don't know if that's a good idea, - Abygaile began.

- Nonsense, - Connie interrupted. - They're all very hospitable at Ruslan's.

- I don't want them to think I'm taking advantage of you, - Abygaile said with some guilt in her voice.

- It's all right, Connie is right, - Ruslan said. - We have several empty rooms, and logistically and organisationally it's preferable that we all start from the same place.

- We'll stop by your house to pick up your luggage now, and then we'll go to the Drake estate, - said Connie.

Abygaile nodded, without much conviction. She glanced sideways at Ruslan and Connie a couple of times on the ride home. When they arrived, Abygaile invited them in. Ruslan had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the lintel of the door.

The house was rather dark, but very clean and neat, despite its simplicity. Abygaile lit a gas lamp to illuminate the room.

- I will make you some tea, - said the hostess. - Please sit down.

She pointed to a rustic beech table surrounded by four chairs. Ruslan and Connie took their seats, but Ruslan's chair squeaked under his weight, and he stood up again. Abygaile looked at him, some embarrassment on her face.

- I think I'd rather stand, we were sitting too long in the tavern, - he said, taking the edge off the matter.

- Don't worry Aby, - Connie commented. - It's just that Ruslan isn't cut from the same cloth as the rest of us. Did you know that they had to use a tent tarpaulin to make him a rainproof cape?

- Hey, complaints about my dimensions, you can give them to my parents, - Ruslan replied wryly, and winked his good eye at Abygaile, who seemed calmer.

- You actually scared me a bit the first time I saw you, Ruslan, - Abygaile said, holding out a steaming mug. Ruslan bent down a little to take it, and Abygail went on. - I have always been short in stature, and when I saw you in the Witch, so tall, I thought I was in the presence of a giant from mythology.

- It's just that I have big bones, - Ruslan joked.

The difference in height between the two was more than noticeable when they stood side by side. Abygaile's scant five foot six, barely reached Ruslan's elbows, who was almost six feet tall. Connie started laughing, drawing Ruslan and Abygaile's attention.

- What's the matter with you now? - Ruslan asked.

- Nothing, - Constance said, catching her breath. - It's just that seeing you standing there, side by side, you look like a grandfather with his granddaughter, one so tall and with white hair and beard, and the other so small and looking up.

Connie burst out laughing again. Ruslan and Abygaile looked at each other and started laughing too.

- I'm going to pick up a few things and then we can go, - Abygaile said a while later.

- Take your time, we'll wait for you, - Connie replied.

In less than ten minutes Abygaile had a small bag over her shoulder, ready for departure.

An hour later the three of them stood at the gate of Drake Manor. Abygaile stood looking up at the front of the house, and as they entered, she went over to look at the flower boxes with the colourful flowers in the garden.

- My mother plants them, - Ruslan said suddenly behind her.

- They are beautiful, your mother has good taste, - Abygaile replied.

Ruslan smiled, and pointed to the door.

- Come on, we have to find you a room.

As they walked through the door Abygaile was stunned, her eyes and mouth wide open at the sight of the hall of Drake Manor. Stanley appeared suddenly in the hall to greet them.

- Good evening, master Ruslan, - he said sparingly. - You are just in time for dinner, the rest of the family will be down shortly.

- Thank you, Stanley, - Ruslan said, and added. - Can you ask them to come down now? I have news, and prepare a guest room next to Connie's, please.

- Certainly, - said the old valet, and approaching Abygaile, he added courteously. - If young miss will please lend me her luggage, I shall be glad to leave it at her lodgings.

- Thank you, - replied Abygaile somewhat self-consciously.

- Hi Ruslan, - Jack greeted his brother from the first floor, the whole Drake family descending the steps to the entrance.

Stanley waited patiently for the staircase to empty and went upstairs to prepare the guest room for Abygaile.

Ruslan approached his family and explained the situation. Abygaile stood watching the Drake family. Ruslan with his large stature stood out quite a bit, but the rest of them did not go unnoticed either. William Drake was nearly six feet tall; his hair was black and slicked back, a stubble marked his face, and his green eyes stood out, he looked wirier than his son Ruslan, but he was still quite stout. Marion Drake exuded an aura of elegance even without trying. She was of medium height, with snow-white skin, aquamarine eyes and full silver hair, though she was barely over 40, like her husband. Ruslan's siblings, Catherine and Johnathan, looked very much alike, with their mother's white skin, and their father's black hair, but with a silver streak that gave them an air of seriousness and experience, though neither of them had inherited their father's stature, like Ruslan. Catherine was delicate like her mother, Johnathan was stocky like his father, but of his mother's height. Suddenly the eyes of all the Drakes turned to Abygaile, who wondered if she would be presentable for the situation. Her hair, a deep red, was tied back in a braid that reached her waist. She wore men's clothes because it was easier to move around in them, but the cap pulled down over her head did not cover her pale face, marked by a myriad of reddish freckles on her nose and cheekbones, with cobalt-coloured eyes. Marion Drake approached her, and Abygaile became a little nervous. The Drake matriarch put her hand on her shoulder to reassure her.

- Easy, young lady, - she said gently, her velvety voice had a lilting tone, but it exuded elegance, just like her appearance. - Be welcome to our home.

- Thank you, Lady Drake, I hope I am not an unwelcome nuisance, - Abygaile said a little shrunk.

- O please, my dear, you are no inconvenience, - said Marion in a calm voice, all the Drakes smiled and nodded at the affirmation. Marion added. - And we're pretty informal in this family, so you can just call me Marion, OK?

Abygaile nodded.

- Come and introduce yourselves, - Marion told the rest of the family.

The introductions went on for a while. Catherine seemed to hit it off with Abygaile. Jack joked with her as soon as he could. And William Drake welcomed her warmly. After a pleasant chat, Stanley came out of the dining room and announced that dinner was served. Connie, Jack and William went ahead and escorted Abygaile into the dining room while they continued their conversation. Marion and Catherine Drake held Ruslan in the hall.

- Well, well, Ruslan, - said Cathe, looking with mischievous connivance at her progenitor.

- Who would have thought that the young Abygaile would be so... - her mother began. - How would you describe her, Cathe?

- Impressive?

- Yes, that's a good description.

- Is this conversation going anywhere? - Ruslan asked between confused and jaded.

- Oh, come on, my son. You're not going to tell me you hadn't noticed that your new friend is quite a beauty.

- I'm more concerned about finding her brother, - Ruslan replied, beginning to predict a pounding headache.

- Leave him be, mother, - Catherine snapped. - This fool only uses his reason; he would never follow his heart.

- I think you're trying to tell me something... but I don't quite understand what, - Ruslan said.

- Do I have to spell it out for you? - Cathe with a snort replied.

- Forget it Catherine, he'll figure it out... eventually, - his mother said.

When they entered the dining room Ruslan saw that Abygaile had been placed next to him at the table. The headache he had been anticipating looked like it was going to become a real problem.

- Has something happened? - Abygaile asked as he sat down next to him.

- Nothing irremediable, - Ruslan replied with a sigh.

Abygaile looked confused at his host's cryptic reply.

After a dinner full of merriment and questions from the Drake family to their new guest, they all retired for the night. Ruslan escorted Abygaile to her room, her mother had insisted on it.

- Rest up Abygaile, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow, - Ruslan told her.

- You can call me Gaile, - she said, - I know my name is very long, my brother always abbreviated it that way.

- Okay, Gaile, - said Ruslan and smiled. - Good night.

Ruslan turned and went to his room at the other end of the first floor, while Gaile went into his room and closed the door. The young woman stood for a moment leaning against the door in thought, and then walked over to the bed and prepared for sleep.

"I've never had such a soft bed before," she thought.

That night it was very easy for him to fall asleep. But he awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of voices and footsteps outside his room.

Opening the door to peek out, he saw Ruslan coming down the stairs, putting on a dressing gown. Gaile put on a dressing gown over her nightgown and followed him after a few minutes. He found him in the kitchen, filling a pot of coffee.

- Hello, can't you sleep? - he asked.

Ruslan was so startled that he inadvertently smashed the metal coffee pot with his right hand. All the cold water mixed with the powdered coffee spilled out onto the kitchen cooker.

- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... - Gaile began.

- Don't worry, it was just a surprise, I didn't expect to have woken anyone up, - Ruslan replied as he grabbed a rag and tried to clean up his mess.

- Wait, - Gaile said, picking up another cloth. - I'll help you.

Together they cleaned up the mess. Ruslan took another pot of coffee from the cupboard and started brewing again.

- I had trouble adjusting to my prosthesis for the first few weeks, so the cook ordered some spare utensils just in case, - Ruslan explained to Abygaile.

- I didn't know that, - Abygaile said, but seeing Ruslan's puzzled look, he added. - About your arm, I didn't know. That time when I held your hand, it was your left hand, and because you were wearing gloves....

- Yes, I remember. I don't usually leave it out in the open. Some people are nervous about me having an autolimb prosthesis.

- That's why you keep covering your eye with an eye patch, isn't it? - Gaile said. - I just noticed that your right eye is metallic in colour, almost black.

- Yes, I lost it too.

- In the war?

- Yes, - Ruslan answered sparingly, his voice strained.

Ruslan handed Gaile a hot cup, and she thanked him with a smile, then poured one for himself and leaned against the kitchen counter. Gaile was staring blankly as he held the mug in both hands.

- My brother, - she said at last. - Do you think he's still alive?

- I have no idea, - Ruslan answered frankly.

- Anything could have happened to him, - said Gaile. - I wanted to enlist too, but he wouldn't let me.

- My parents also tried to dissuade me. But I didn't listen to them. You see how it turned out, - he said, raising his right hand.

- But you made it back.

- By a miracle.

- I hope my brother can make it back alive too, - Abygaile said, taking a sip from his cup.

- If he's alive, we'll find him, - Ruslan replied firmly.

- Thank you, Ruslan, - Gaile replied. - You know, you never told me why you finally agreed to help.

Ruslan put his cup down on the counter and stood thoughtfully, his arms folded across his chest.

- To tell you the truth, even I don't know yet, - he said frankly.

Gaile put his cup in the sink and walked to the kitchen door.

- Thanks for the coffee, - she said. - And thanks for your help.

- Thank me when we get back, - he replied.

Gaile left the kitchen, and Ruslan stood thinking as he finished his coffee. He still didn't understand why he had embarked on this ordeal; he just knew it had something to do with Gaile, but he still didn't understand why.

Gaile leaned against the kitchen door for a second, thoughtful. She smiled to herself, shook her head slightly and made her way back to her room. Her heart felt like it was racing a little, but she put it down to the caffeine. It was going to be hard to get back to sleep.

Dawn came, sunlight bathing the kitchen as the cook, Patrice Rutherford, came in to prepare that morning's breakfast. Patrice was a sturdy woman of medium height, with grey hair pulled back in a bun, and her face always wore a calm, cheerful expression.

Ruslan stood leaning against the window frame, looking out, but when she came in, he greeted her.

- Good morning, Patrice.

- Good morning, Ruslan, - she replied. - Another sleepless night?

- Yes, I still can't sleep.

- Let's try some soothing herbal tea, I'll leave a pot ready before I leave tonight, okay? - she said knowingly.

- As always, you take too much care of me, - Ruslan said, smiling.

- I've watched you and your brothers grow up, you little Drake boys are like my own children to me, - Patrice said. - I was worried enough when you came back in tatters, you don't want this old woman to worry about you not being able to sleep now?

Ruslan smiled and nodded. He headed for the kitchen exit, but the old cook held him back and gave him a hug that could choke a bear.

- Don't forget that everyone in this family cares about you, - she said. - If you have any problems, you can tell us. Especially old Patrice. I still remember when you'd come in all muddy and bruised from getting into a fight and come running to tell me about it.

- That was at least 15 years ago, Patrice, - Ruslan said, a little embarrassed.

- No matter how big you've become, to me you'll always be that little boy who got into trouble to help others.

Ruslan hugged him back and left the kitchen. In the hall he passed Stanley who looked worried, but Ruslan put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and shook his head. He headed upstairs to get ready and dressed. They would have plenty to do that day.

Stanley walked into the kitchen, and saw Patrice leaning on the counter with a look of circumstance on her face.

- Another sleepless night, is it? - asked the old butler.

- Yes, -the cook replied. - He's back, but the scars he's been left with are not just the ones you can see with the naked eye.

- He will get over it. He was always the most tenacious of the three.

- I hope so, - Patrice replied, and looking at Stanley added. - Well, we'd better get started. They'll all be down soon and there's a real hungry beast among them.

- Connie is not so fierce, though she eats for four, - Stanley said. - Still, she's a charming young lady, and a cheerful one. She has done the house good by her influence. If she had only a little more modesty....

- Stanley, you've always been too serious about such matters of manners, - laughed Patrice. - Go on, set the table, I'll get on with breakfast.

- As you command, general, - the butler said, squared his shoulders like a military man, smiled under his splendid moustache and went out ready to begin the day.

Marion Drake entered through the kitchen door leading to the garden, wearing a dirt-stained apron and carrying a watering can.

- Good morning, Patrice.

- Good morning, Mrs. Marion, - Patrice replied with a smile.

- Ruslan is still giving you a headache, isn't he?

- That young man hasn't changed a bit since he was a child. He always wanted to help everyone, even if he ended up in trouble.

- I know, and believe me, it worries me, - Marion Drake replied with a look of circumstance on her face.

- You can relax, - Patrice told her. - He may have always been a troublemaker, but he's always come home, no matter what.

- Yes, but always with some injury, - Marion said, leaving the watering can on the counter, several tears rolled down her cheeks.

Patrice approached Marion and put his hand on her arm to comfort her.

- Come on, come on, - Patrice said soothingly, and offering her a handkerchief added. - Dry those tears, I'm sure he'll come back safe and sound this time, and I'm never wrong.

Patrice winked at Marion, and she smiled. They had always had a close relationship, so Patrice knew how hard it was for Marion to see her son leave again. They were still children to them, even if they had grown up, in Ruslan's case to exaggerated limits.

Jack was waiting outside the door when Ruslan came out of his room.

- Ruslan, - the younger Drake said. - We need to talk.

- Jack, is something wrong? - Ruslan asked.

- Are you sure you want to go on this trip?

- I don't know, Jack, I honestly don't know. What I do know is that Abygaile is going, even if Connie and I are staying.

- Listen, I know you've always been the type to jump into the fray if someone's in trouble. But you don't have to save everyone.

- You want me to leave Gaile hanging at this point?

- I want you to start worrying a bit more about yourself, and the family, - his brother said, the seriousness with which he said it making Ruslan turn to look him in the eye. - Do you even know the worry our mother and Cathe went through when they found out you'd been hurt? Or father's remorse for those nine years you stayed away?

- Jack, I... - Ruslan began, but his little brother interrupted him.

- Listen, I know it's in your character. Ever since I was a kid, I was always proud to be your brother. You helped everyone who needed it, and you treated everyone equally regardless of their situation or their status. But I have also seen you earn the enmity of so many other people. Every time you help someone, you are pitted against some person or group of people with opposing interests.

- Are you saying that I should stop helping people because of the quarrels my actions might provoke? - Ruslan asked, adding. - Jack, if we let the fear of provoking confrontation dictate our actions, we'll end up not being able to take a step. You have to worry more about what your conscience dictates than what other people think or do.

Jack looked at Ruslan, he understood his older brother's position, he respected it and even shared it. But the worry he felt kept nagging at him.

- Just promise me that before you do anything crazy, you'll stop and think about it for a second first.

- I'll try, but we're going to be in a situation where one second can separate survival from death. I can't make a promise I don't know if I can keep. I did it once before, and my arrogance was my undoing.

- All right, - Jack conceded. - But at least try.

- Come on, what happened to the brother who was always bragging about my little stories in every pub in London?

- Yeah, it's because I didn't know the price those little stories could carry. I don't want to lose my big brother, just so I can brag in a pub.

Ruslan slapped his little brother hard on the shoulder.

- Don't worry, I'll be back, I always am. And Connie can hold her own too.

- I know. Anyway, at least this time you've got a good reason to go to war.

- Oh, yeah? What's that? - Ruslan asked.

- Come on Ruslan, we've all seen Abygaile, - his brother said, nudging him knowingly. - I must admit I didn't expect you to have such good taste, given that you've never been interested in the opposite sex.

- Why do you all think I do this for that reason? - Ruslan said in exasperation. - She needs help, and so does her brother. Full stop.

- Yeah, but Connie told me that when your old sergeant asked you, you refused. Until Abygaile asked you.

"I'm going to kill Connie,' Ruslan thought to himself.

- I'm not going to talk about it anymore... especially not with you, the family playboy, - Ruslan said as he started down the stairs.

- You can avoid the subject, but you can't avoid it forever, - his brother said as he followed him downstairs.

After a lively breakfast, Ruslan, Connie and Gaile prepared to leave. They had arranged to meet Arthur Doyle at Thorne's armoury. But before they could leave, William Drake approached them, followed by the rest of the family. Stanley was carrying three boxes which he left on the hall table.

- Before you go, we have a little present for the three of you, - William said. - Go ahead and take it, each box is marked with your name.

When they opened the boxes, they saw that each one contained a dark leather coat.

- I already have a coat, - Ruslan said.

- These coats were developed at Drake Industries, - his father said. - They're tough as nails, totally waterproof and tear-proof.

- Thank you, William, - Connie said, putting on her new coat.

- Yes, thank you, - Gaile seconded, also wearing his.

- It's quite heavy, - Ruslan said.

- It has several layers, but you're strong, you won't have any problems, - William replied, patting his son on the back.

- Well, we're off then, - Ruslan said, slinging his pack over his shoulder.

- Take care of yourselves, understand? - Marion urged.

The three nodded and headed out the door. When the door closed, Marion Drake hugged her husband and buried her face in his shoulder.

- Don't worry, - he said gently. - They'll be back safe and sound, I have no doubt.

She lifted her face and smiled at him, tears still running down her cheeks.

After an hour's walk Ruslan, Connie and Gaile arrived at the armoury. Arthur was waiting for them outside.

- What early risers! - he said mockingly.

As they entered, they met Thorne who was just finishing preparing the ammunition they were to take with them.

- You're early," said the armourer grumpily.

- Have you got the weapons ready? - Ruslan asked.

- Of course, they're in the workshop, and I've also assembled some targets for you to test before you go, in case there are any last-minute adjustments to be made.

- You're all over it, Gus, - said Arthur.

- Come on, don't waste time, - Thorne replied, entering the workshop.

The others followed him. On the table in the centre of his workshop he had the weapons ready with a box of ammunition for each. Ruslan walked over and checked to make sure they were all ready. He picked up the shotgun and tested the slide several times to make sure it was working properly. He then checked the 2 semi-automatic pistols, removing the magazines and pulling the slide several times. While Connie and Gaile tested their own guns, everything seemed fine. Thorne approached them.

- Well, what are you waiting for? - he said, pointing to the targets at the back of the workshop room. - Load them and test them the hell out.

Ruslan loaded the shotgun and walked to within 2 metres of one of the targets, cocked the shotgun and fired a round. The centre of the target exploded leaving a half metre hole in the wooden target.

- The shells use 5 large calibre pellets, they will shatter any target that is not armoured as long as you are within 8 metres, - said Thorne.

- Perfect, for longer distances I already have the anti-armour revolver, - answered Ruslan.

- By the way, I've adjusted it. You should now be able to fire twice in quick succession without losing too much accuracy due to recoil. And I've given it a name," Thorne held the revolver out to Ruslan with both hands. An inscription could be seen on the barrel.

- Dullahan, why the name of an Eirean myth? - Ruslan asked.

- First, because I was born in Eire. Secondly, because the Dullahan is said to be unstoppable, and the bullets of this "little guy" meet the same requirement. And third, because I bloody well feel like it! - Thorne said.

While Thorne and Ruslan argued, Connie and Gaile finished testing their weapons. After some slight last-minute adjustments, they holstered the holster straps Thorne had prepared for them under their new coats, slipped the ammunition boxes into their packs, slung their rifles over their shoulders, and prepared to leave. Ruslan carried the "Dullahan" in a holster on his right leg.

It was almost mid-afternoon when they finally left Thorne's armoury. They made their way to the docks to load the luggage onto Fred's fishing boat. When they arrived, the fisherman greeted them with great hospitality.

- Come aboard, mes amis, - he said, gesturing effusively.

Ruslan stepped over the gunwale from the dock to the deck in a single stride, but Connie and Gaile had to gather momentum and jump because of their height. As Gaile's foot became entangled in a coiled line and she staggered, Connie tried to grab her but missed by a few millimetres. Luckily Ruslan was in front of her and caught her before she fell, Gaile crashed into his friend's torso. The impact felt to her as if she had run face first into a wall. Ruslan grabbed her shoulders to help her up while she rubbed her forehead.

- Are you all right? - he said.

- Yeah, I just stumbled - Gaile answered.

Suddenly they heard a whistle of admiration, and when they looked at Connie, they saw a sarcastic smile cross her face.

- What? - Ruslan asked in disgust.

- Nothing, - Connie replied with a shrug, then added. - I'm just happy for you. It's good to be polite to the ladies, Casanova.

Gaile blushed and pulled away abruptly. Ruslan put his hand on her shoulder. She glanced at him, still a little self-conscious, but relaxed when she saw Ruslan shake his head, making her realise that Connie was joking.

- I'm going to put my things in the cabin, - Gaile said, and followed Fred into the boat.

Ruslan turned to Connie with a grim look on his face. But she was still grinning mischievously from ear to ear.

- Connie, stop it, - his friend said with what little patience he had left. - It's bad enough that I've put up with my mother and my brothers. There's nothing going on between Gaile and me. I just want to help her find her brother. End of story.

- Come on, Ruslan, - Connie said, nudging him knowingly. - I know you're not made of stone. You can't have failed to notice that Gaile is quite pretty.

- It's not part of this mission, - he said seriously.

- Mate, you take all the fun out of life, you know that? - Connie pouted, it was the first time Ruslan had ever seen her serious. - What's the use of always being alone and alert, you think you're the guardian of the whole world?

- I don't... - Ruslan began, but Connie cut him off.

- Enjoy life while it lasts, - she said vehemently. - Not everyone gets a second chance. You did. Make the most of it. Be happy. Live to the fullest. You owe it to those who did not survive. You owe it to them to live fully, for their sacrifice.

Connie gave him a friendly pat on the arm and went into the ship's cabin. Ruslan stood there, staring at his friend's back as he pondered what she had just said.