The grave had been dug in accordance with regulations.

Hours of toil spread over two nights had left Martha dirty. Her back ached, her leg throbbed in agony. She wore an old school uniform. Garden gloves...boots, her old white uniform. The one spattered with blood during the White Court.

The grave was dug. She'd followed the directions as laid out in Regulations: Title 14, Natural Resources - Division 7, CIWMB Chapter 3. Minimum Standards for Solid Waste Handling and Disposal. Section 17823.5. - (Dead Animals) and advice on disposal of animals and Emergency Animal Disposal Guidelines.

Taking care, she had sited the grave 150 feet away from the lake at the rear of the Ordo Chapter house. She'd dug a shallow trench was advised, following the advice, she had allowed for three feet for top soil to cover the carcass. She had a sack of lime ready.

Digging the trench was hard enough work anyway. Erecting the old tent over the activity had been the easiest part.

Did Apple Candy know what was about to happen? Did Joseph? Did either of them care?

It was hard to know.

But Apple Candy had already made his unhappiness at being the new property of a vampire known. Sharp kicks had twice now sent Martha to the ground of the improvised paddock.

13 gallons of blood per horse. Would that be enough? Poor Hartman was looking uncommonly sickly...even allowing for his weakened state. How much would he consume? All of it? Less? Would Apple Candy die in vain? 13 gallons was still a lot.

She has seen horses killed before: she knew where to shoot it. Get close. Press the muzzle to the skull...shoot down...not too shallow: you'll get a ricochet. Not too steep...it'll die in agony as you miss the brain. You have to kill all the brain function quickly.

The knife was ready and sharp. The buckets were ready too. Joseph was nearby...The blood would congeal. Its potency die swiftly. I shall have to act swiftly...

As she dug and turned the last of the spadefuls of earth onto the top of the trench she gave some thought to the mass burials of horses found during recent building work in London. Smithfield. Ancient burials for ritual...or did they have some other purpose? Pragmatic disposal - or the offerings to some Saxon God of horses? She offered a prayer to Horsa and Hengest anyway...to speed the spirit of Apple Candy on it's way into the Netherworld so he could roam free along the pastures and lowlands of Himinvanga, where the Valkyrie rode.

She looked over to the aging horse. Apple Candy had been a fine and lively mount in his youth and given the ranchers daughter years of pleasure. Too old to withstand any more work, poor Apple Candy was out to pasture. The rancher didn't, he'd explained, have the heart to sell him to the renderers.

Martha set aside the spade. Keeping it close to the piles of earth and making certain the blade of the spade was facing down...one never knows. A large animal like a horse...it could kick me to the ground again! Be awful to be impaled upon the head of a spade.

The tarpaulin was laid out near the trench. Joseph rested upon it. A shroud of old blankets keeping him modest and warm while under the tent.

Gingerly she took the 9mm from the carry case borrowed earlier from the Avalon armory. Carefully, warily, she tucked the weapon into her dirt caked belt and hobbled over towards the horse. Offered him a last meal of apples and peppermints. Martha patted and tried to soothe his neck, whispering soothing words. She had done the same to Joseph earlier as she laid him next to the trench. Rubbing at her aching back and stiff leg, Martha whispered again to Apple Candy.

Apple Candy struggled, she gathered his reins and began to lead him to the tent. Positioning Apple Candy as best she could, she raised the firearm. Hoping to be confident and steady in its use. Unshrinking in her help to Joseph.

She aimed to make it swift. Apple Candy,it is now time to fulfil a higher purpose - and, I trust, receive your reward in Himinvanga.