Letter Eight

"Wow, these girls are doing so well with this letter game thing," ....said no one ever. lol.

Well, what can I say. We are not the best about about writing letters. *Sigh* We do try! Really!

Most of the time.

Anyway, since Treskie and I enjoy writing these letters we are going to plow doggedly on, whether any of you still care or not.

This letter is a good one. I am intrigued by it and am working on an appropriate response. It's not proving easy. As Treskie put it, we went along, writing away blissfully..."Lalalala!" and then "Boom!" Literally. And suddenly things are a little dark. Thanks Treskie. Now I need to up my game too. *Wink.* When a story starts to drag, blow something up. *Nods*

For any of you that are new...or just totally confused and want to re-read the letters, they are all under "Letter Game" on my page listing. Got it? Good.

At any rate...enjoy! 


From: Miss Joan McTavish
To: Miss Peggy Douglas
December 23, 1924


Dear Peggy:

I am writing to tell you I'm alright. Don't worry. I'm alright.

I'm sure you've heard about the explosion at the palace by now, and I'm sorry I didn't contact you sooner.

Prince George is safe. Or as safe as he can be under the circumstances.

Here. Let me start from the beginning.

Last week, as you probably know, there was a massive set of explosions at the palace. It was around the middle of the night, and I was technically off duty. I was jerked out of my sleep by the first bomb going off at the East Gate. So, off duty or no, I strapped on my set of knives, grabbed my revolver, and took off to the the Prince's bed chambers. When I got there, I saw four of the other members of his security detail crowded around the door. Sir Dominic was slamming his shoulder into the slab of oak, yelling both the Prince's name and the name of the security member in the room with him.
I hurried up to the boys in the hall and said, "What's going on?"
"There's been an attack," John, (a very nice fellow that I rather liked.) "Prince's George's door is locked from the inside and there is no answer. We can't get in."
I nodded. For a few more moments, we waited while Dominic continued in his attempt to knock down the door, and then another explosion rocked the palace. This one was much, much closer. Even with my training to keep my balance no matter what happens, I was knocked off my feet by the force of it. The end of the hallway burst into flames. And just when I thought it couldn't get worse, two black clad men emerged from the smoke, wielding a type of machine gun I'd never seen before. They loosed a torrent of bullets into us. Without thinking, I said the incantation for a shield spell. I threw it up around myself and the person closest to me. (because, as you know, even though those bloody shield protect against almost everything, they are only powerful enough to protect two people.) Dominic and I crouched together behind the shield, watching helplessly as the assassins' weapons took out the rest of the security team. Dominic reached for his revolver, shifted position slightly, and two bullets later the assassins were down.
Our problem wasn't over though, the fire was still roaring it's way down the corridor. For a moment, I dropped my shield and ran to check on the other members of the security team. They were all dead. My mind went numb, Peggy. All that training, all those theoretical lessons at Uni never prepared me for the real thing. So I stood there like a halfwit until Dominic shook my shoulder hard, "Can your shield protect against flame, Joan?"
"I don't know."
"Well pray that it does, because we won't make it out of here if it doesn't." he gestured and I saw that somehow there was now fire at both ends of the corridor, working its way to us. I said something I'm ashamed of and muttered, "I can try."
"Good girl." he said, and then he raced toward the fallen assassins. When he came back, he carried their machine guns. "Here." he said, "I have an idea. Aim at where the bolt would be. We need to see if the prince is alright." (highly unlikely, under the circumstances. )
Guns are all fairly similar, so it didn't take a minute for me to work out how this one functioned. I'm not sure what size caliber they used, but the bullets peppered the impenetrable oak door and splintered it as though it were made out of pine. Even so, there wasn't enough time to break down the door before the fire was upon us. Even from a distance, the heat was like a solid force, and up close, it was unbearable. So I let my gun drop, and threw up the strongest shield I could muster. It didn't help much. Dominic stood beside me, continuing the attack on the door. The twin fires surged toward us, vying for the last of the air and wood to burn. Dominic dropped his weapon and took a running leap at the door. He hit it feet first and this time, it buckled. Together we bolted in and found the Prince limp on the ground while the guard who'd been posted in the room grappled with another black-clad assassin. Without thinking, I drew one of my knives and threw it at the enemy. Thank goodness I've practiced with those so much, because the assassin fell instantly. Dominic checked the Prince for life and I yelled at Simon, the other guard, to help me move the mattress, because the only way I could see to get out of that room alive was to go out the window, which was two stories up. Together we maneuvered the mattress across the window ledge and let it fall below. Dominic and Simon picked up the Royal Dead Weight and leaped out. I followed. Seconds later, the entire second floor erupted into flames, spewing fiery debris over our heads.
We looked on in horror as the realization of what had happened set in. Finally, Simon said, "Where to now, Dom?"
We deliberated briefly about what to do and where to go. Dominic had just become the senior member of P. George's security team, and he looked completely at loss.
I said, "My parents live not two miles from here." so we went there. It was a rough journey, Simon had twisted his ankle in the fall from the window, and Prince George refused to wake up, to it was up to Dominic and I to see that we weren't followed. Twice we ran into assassins. It's a miracle we made it to my parents' house alive.

So that's where we are now. Mum and Father took over everything instantly. I must say it's a good thing Mum was a nurse before she got married. I think we would have lost the Prince otherwise, seeing as he'd sustained a severe bullet wound to the chest and a massive bump on the head because we fairly threw him out his bedroom window. Mum put him in an Enchanted Healing Coma. She says he'll come out of it when his body is ready.

Until then, it seems, our country is leaderless. The King and Queen were killed in the attack. Almost everyone in the palace was. I swear it was luck that got us out. There is a search out on P. George, it seems someone found the mattress under his window and put the pieces together.

I'm irritated at myself for not being in more control of the situation. All those years at Uni, and I still acted absurdly like a civilian when I should have been professional and well trained. Father says not to be too hard on myself, because it was my first time in a honest to goodness, dangerous situation. I still fill a bloody idiot.

As such, I have put a spell on this letter so that only you may read it. (it will sense your fingerprints) If it is intercepted, it will appear that we are just silly girls panicking over the attack and simpering over some boy. It was the best I could do under the circumstances. I've enclosed the instructions for the spell so that you may perform it, should you decide to reply.

I hope our beloved Royal Dead Weight comes out of his coma soon. The King's relatives are clamoring for his position. And the magicians and philosophers are being complete fools about the matter.

Don't tell anyone where I am, m'dear. Not even the Detective.
Your worried:
Joan.