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Serenity House

Books and writing have always been an enormous part of Anita's life. She survived school by hiding out in the library, with several thousand fictional characters for company. At university, she overcame the boredom of studying accountancy by squeezing in Egyptology papers and learning to read hieroglyphics. Today, Anita writes historical fantasy novels from her home in rural New Zealand. You can find her on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/AWExley Be the first to hear about new releases, specials, and giveaways. Sign up at: https://awexley.com/newsletter/ In 1918 England, join an Edwardian Cinderella on her journey to defeat the undead and find her happily ever after Part 1: Ella,The Slayer Seventeen-year-old Ella copes the best she can scrubbing the floors, and slaying the undead. Then the new Duke of Leithfield arrives in the village and working alongside Seth, Ella glimpses a future she never dreamed was possible. But in overstepping society's boundaries, she could lose everything - home, head and her heart... Part 2: Alice, The Player Ella must venture down a rabbit hole, but this is no wonderland... When Alice goes missing without a trace, the new vermin queen sends an invitation--Ella is welcome to try and rescue her friend, before Elizabeth lets her subjects tear the housemaid apart. Part 3: Rory, The Sleeper Could the long dead duchess, Millicent deMage, be the key to understanding the pandemic of vermin? The final battle is looming, but this might be one fight Ella can't win, and she will be the one put to sleep forever... Part 4 Bonus: Henry, the Gaoler On the frontlines of the Great War, Henry kept a token of happier times - a worn photograph of a young girl with long blonde plaits. He returns from war damaged and vowing to do one brave thing to make up for his cowardice - release Hazel from her prison. But is it safe with the pandemic and its horrific aftermath?

A.W. Exley · Ficção Científica
Classificações insuficientes
90 Chs

Chapter 81

The policeman and I stared at each other for a long, quiet minute trying to figure out where the blood went. A decapitated man should have bled profusely. There should have been rivulets of blood running down the road. There wasn't. Not a drop. And neither of us could explain it.

Eventually he blinked, waved his arms, and began issuing orders to clear up the scene. The body was to be moved to the house of the local doctor, the injured helped to their homes, and I was barred from seeing Ella. The bobby told me in no uncertain terms the accused murderer was not allowed any visitors.

Lucky the cell had a window, but I had no answers for her. I shook my head and mouthed that the doctor would investigate further. That one word, investigate, caused us both a few headaches as Ella tried to lip read from a strange angle and I became frustrated that my throat wouldn't make the noises.