Alchemy, Book Two of the Mercian Trilogy by K. J. Wignall

mind skipping back and forth between his memories of the dreams and the strange, conflicting thoughts brought on by being in Eloise’s room. He wished he could see meaning in it, butthere was none, only that she was a beautiful girl, that he wished she had lived and been of his class in 1256, that he had not fallen sick – too many wishes.
    Will stood abruptly, a surge of energy coming on the back of all that frustration, and walked quickly back to the house. Wallowing in regret was all very well, but he had too much to do before dawn, and before he could bring Eloise here again. He had feared too much for her in those tunnels, and realised only now how foolish he had been to take her there unprepared. The attack by the crows had convinced him that he couldn’t let his guard drop. It had shown him that, despite what Eloise might have thought, he wasn’t always strong enough and couldn’t always protect her.
    Something down there had also put fear into him, though he couldn’t think what he had to fear, except perhaps the truth of who he was. Whatever it was, he was determined he would face it alone before being so reckless as to expose Eloise to it again.
    Will headed for the billiard room once he was inside the house. There was a display of three sabres on the wall above the table and he took one down, then another, testing their weight and feel. He selected one, put the other back in its place and headed for the library.
    He’d have to replace the sabre before daybreakbecause it seemed every day or so someone came and checked over the house and he wouldn’t want its absence to be noted. He looked at the clock in the hall as he passed through it, estimating he had six hours, maybe only five, if he wanted to be sure of being back in the cellars before dawn.
    The cellars – that was the worst of it, spending the daylight hours in those cellars with almost nothing to distract him from the gnawing need for blood. It was even worse when he could hear someone in the house above, and if the caretaker or security guard, whoever it was looking after the house, had ventured into the cellars at any point, Will wasn’t sure he’d have been able to exercise the self-control that had kept him from notice all these centuries.
    In the library he pressed the button to the side of the bookshelves that opened the secret panel, stepped inside and let the door close behind him. He slid the sabre through his belt and placed his hands on the wall. The mechanism ground into motion and the wall slid away to reveal the entrance to the steps.
    Will stared, but didn’t move. When he did move, it was first to reach for his dark glasses, then to pull the sabre free. The lights were on in the tunnels, but he remembered clearly that they’d turned them off on leaving.
    It reminded him too readily of the last time they’d found lights on unexpectedly, in the cathedral library, and he wondered if once again it was a sign that one of Wyndham’s apparently numerous disciples was also searching the tunnel complex.
    He couldn’t pick up a scent, nothing at all, and could hear nothing either, but the labyrinth was so vast it was possible he wouldn’t be able to detect another visitor from here anyway. He reached out to the light switch, reasoning that he might as well turn his own superior night vision to his advantage if he was about to face an enemy. But he flicked the switch first one way, then the other, and the lights remained on.
    Will laughed a little to himself, then louder, finally finding some admiration for this Wyndham, for his ingenuity and his determination, for his irritating ability to throw obstacles in Will’s way. It was even more amusing for the fact that Will didn’t even know where he was meant to be heading – Wyndham would have probably had just as much success in denying Will his destiny by simply leaving him alone, floundering in ignorance.
    He took his glasses off and stared down into the lights, which were not as