“The Roaring Ship” sees St. Cyprian and Gallowglass battle zombies and a spectral Zeppelin in Swaffham! It will be published  by Fringeworks in a forthcoming volume of the anthology series, Raus! Untoten!. 

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“What else,” he said.

“What makes you think there’s anything else?”

“I didn’t drop you off a day before I was scheduled to meet Morris so that you could get us invitations to the astronomical society,” St. Cyprian said, reaching for his glass.

Gallowglass snaffled his glass before he could take it. “I don’t think it’s fair that I do all the legwork and you get all the glory.” She drank half of it in a gulp. She handed it back to him. He frowned at it, shrugged and emptied it.

“Who mentioned anything about glory, what?” he said. “Besides, I had to visit the local council. Maps, donchaknow,” he said.

“Maps,” she said.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he said.

“An old man,” Gallowglass said. At St. Cyprian’s expression, she went on. “People notice strangers, in little towns like this, especially when they pop up around the same time as a bloody great ghost zeppelin. An elderly sort, what has been seen about the village common. Nobody knows who he is, or what his business is, or where he’s staying.” She smiled. “We’re staying here, if you were wondering. Two rooms, before you ask,” she added, quickly.

“I wasn’t planning to, no,” he said. She stuck her tongue out at him. He sniffed and sat forward. “So, mysterious codger, strange celestial occurrences and a rapid and ongoing progression,” he said, taking their glasses and arranging them in a rough line.

“What was that last bit?”

“Maps,” he said. “While you were playing with the local stargazers, I did my own brand of legwork. This so-called ‘roaring ship’ has been seen more than once, but never in the same place twice. Between the national papers, the local fish wrappers and the county surveyor maps at the local council, I determined that our phantom aeronauts are moving steadily this-away,” he continued, tracing his index finger along the line of glasses. Gallowglass reached towards the spot behind the last glass and tapped the table.

“So what’s here?”

“Houghton on the Hill,” St. Cyprian said…

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