extinguishing it. He then reformed on the opposite side.
"This way!" He turned towards the trees and the others ran after him.
They emerged from the forest after a couple of minutes and picked up speed over the open moor. Differel paused and looked back. Margaret and her nanny continued on, but Ms. Brunt slowed.
"Keep going." She waved her on. "I'll catch up."
The agent looked uncertain, but she ran past her.
Differel watched as the Wiederganger came out of the woods. From their keening she realized they did not wander aimlessly but pursued them.
She turned and sprinted to catch up with the others. "Wait! Hold up!"
Vlad stopped, forcing the others to do so as well.
"But they're still coming!" Miss Newtown sounded like she was on the edge of hysteria. "We've got to get out of here!!"
"Calm down! We're in no immediate danger. Even at its swiftest, a fungal zombie is still slower than a fast walk. But we can't just run aimlessly. We may be able to outrun them, but unlike us they won't tire, so we can't stop to rest for the night. With their senses of smell and hearing they can find us no matter where we try to hide."
The nanny covered her face with her hands in sheer horror, but Margaret seemed more excited than frightened. "So, what can we do?"
"We need to devise a strategy. At the very least, we need to find somewhere safe so Vlad can warn the Caerleon Order."
Miss Newtown dropped her hands, and she seemed angry as well as terrified. "Why can't It just take us to safety?!"
Ms. Brunt threw her a contemptuous look. "We can't leave until we determine the extent of the danger."
"We're not agents of your precious order!" She grasped Margaret's shoulders. "I demand you return us to Yorkshire immediately!"
"I agree," Brunt said, then she addressed Differel, "and you must go with them."
She realized she was just trying to protect her, but she felt her irritation flare at the 'order'. "No. As Director I have an obligation--"
"With all due respect, as Director, and the last of the Van Helsing bloodline, you are too important to risk."
"I am also the Pendragon, and no Pendragon has run from a paranormal threat in the entire history of our family." She glanced at Margaret. "But I agree this is no place for civilians. I'll have Vlad take you and Miss Newtown to safety."
"No way, Dribble. I'm staying right here."
"Margaret!" the nanny said.
She felt her anger flare. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me. I'm not going to be sent away now that we've finally got a real adventure going."
Her nanny looked livid. "Now you listen here, young lady--!"
"Let me handle this, please. This isn't a game, Maggot. If we're not careful, we could end up eaten alive, or infected. Do you really want to take that risk?"
"Are you kidding?! This is the most fun I've had in weeks, and I can help! I just wish there was a zombie merit badge!"
She couldn't believe her ears. "Have you gone crackers or something? We're only a couple of steps away from a full-blown apocalypse here!"
"If you think I'm going to let you hog all the glory, you're off your nut!"
She forced herself to calm down. She knew there were times when Margaret could get so stubborn that she became completely unreasonable and intractable. Under such circumstances getting angry was useless. "You know, you can't stop me from ordering Vlad to take you home."
"True."
"And that's the best way you can help. Not only will Ms. Brunt and I be better able to handle this crisis alone, you can contact the Order so Vlad doesn't have to."
"That's probably true, too." Then she flashed an arrogant smile. "But you won't do it against my will."
"And pray tell, why not?"
"Because you respect me too much."
She scowled, but Margaret was right. "Oh, bother."
Margaret sobered. "But you're right about one thing, my nanny has no place here. I want Dracs to get her to safety."
"Not on your life, young lady!"
Both Margaret and Brunt stared at her with startled looks, but Differel noted that her manner was still as terrified as before. If she had suddenly turned into a mama bear protecting its cub, it was because she felt for Margaret more deeply than merely as her young charge.
"I'm responsible for you, so either we both go home together, or we both stay right here!"
"Listen, I don't care what Father may have told you, you can't stay! Differel, order Dracs to take her home, now!"
"Hmph. First of all, I don't take orders from you, but more importantly, I can't."
Margaret threw her a frustrated look. "What does that mean?"
She suppressed her irritation. "It means, that if I can't send you home against your will, I must show her the same consideration."
Margaret flashed a wide-eyed expression of astonished surprise, but before she could retort, Vlad said, "Master."
She spun around, and saw the zombies had come much too close. She had tried to keep an ear open, to let their keening warn her when they had caught up with them, but their arguments had distracted her.
"Bloody hell! Let's move!"
They took off running once again, but after a few minutes Differel realized they had gotten away from the horde.
"All right, we can slow down. We need to conserve our strength."
"But those things are still after us!" Miss Newtown wailed, but they all settled into a fast walk.
"As long as we keep moving, we can stay ahead of them."
"We can't keep running forever," Ms. Brunt said. "We'll need rest, water, and food soon."
"I'm aware of that," she replied in a testy tone, and quickly regretted it. "My apologies, I didn't mean to snap at you."
"Master, there is a country lane nearby, where you can travel in safety, at least from the moor and its dangers."
"Very good. Lead us there."
Vlad turned right about sixty degrees and they all followed him.
"No, we can't keep this up all night, but the problem we face is where to go. If we head for Grimpen, or Coombe Tracey, the two closest villages, the zombies will follow us, putting everyone there in danger."
"Heading deeper into the moor isn't an option either," the agent replied. "We could encounter other hikers and campers, but we also risk the possibility the pack will get lured off in another direction. Even if neither happens, Dartmoor is surrounded by towns and villages, so wherever we go we will eventually reach a civilized area. The best option is to find someplace where the zombies can't reach us."
"What about Baskerville Hall?" Margaret asked.
"It's tempting," Differel said, "but from our earlier exploration it seems to me it's far too ruined to withstand a siege. Besides, we would have to backtrack to reach it, which could put us at risk of encountering stragglers or outliers."
They reached the lane, and they paused to take a breather. "Where then?" Margaret pressed.
"There are four other structures in our vicinity. Unfortunately, Lafter Hall, Merripit House, and the abandoned farm at High Tor are equally or worse derelict. That leaves Foulmire."
"What's that?" Miss Newtown asked.
"An abandoned longhouse being restored for use as a hostel," Ms. Brunt replied.
"We cannot know how intact it is," Differel said, "but we don't have much choice. We'll make for it, and pray it's sound enough to protect us. First, though...Vlad, I need tactical advice. What else should we be doing?"
Even in the darkness, his leering grin stood out beneath his glowing red eyes. "When faced with a powerful enemy whose numbers and disposition are unknown, the first order of business is to reconnoiter."
"Very well. Scout them out. Tell me how many there are and where they're located."
"Continue down this lane." He pointed ahead of them. "It will take you towards the longhouse. I will return shortly." He dissolved into shadow, which compressed and took the form of a bat, and then he flew off behind the
m.
"Let's get going. Ms. Brunt, please bring up the rear." She took point and started off, confident the others would follow.
After a few moments Margaret strode up beside her. "So, what's next?"
She threw her a sidelong frown. "Haven't you been paying attention?"
"No, I mean, what's standard operating procedure for this kind of situation?"
"Oh. Technically there is none."
She looked astounded. "Why not?"
"Each Wiederganger incursion is different. Beyond certain broad guidelines, we just have to play each one by ear."
"Can't you just say 'zombie' like a normal person, Dribble? You sound so stuffy."
She scowled. "Bog off, Maggot."
"So, what are these guidelines?"
She took a deep breath to calm her agitation. Margaret knew how to press her buttons, but she wouldn't deliberately try to provoke her in an emergency. "Determine the extent of the threat; establish how widespread the threat happens to be; contain the threat to a smaller, more manageable area; and eradicate."
"I take it Dracs is working on the first two. How do we manage the last pair?"
"That depends upon the size of this horde and how far flung it is, and the state of the longhouse, but if we're lucky, we should be able to entice the Wieder--ahem, the 'zombies' into laying siege. That will allow Vlad to alert the Order without putting us in needless danger. Holt can then send in a combined extraction/eradication force to wipe out the horde and rescue us."
"And if we're not lucky?"
She shrugged. "Then we'll have to think of something else, but there are always options. For example, if the horde is small enough, I can order Vlad to get rid of them on his own. The problem is cleanup. We can't just leave the bodies lying around, because they would still be infectious. They would have