by TJ Green
“And yet here you are with an occult bookshop, stocking witchcraft paraphernalia.”
“Just like half the shops in White Haven,” she pointed out. “And in case you haven’t realised, I’m not Helena.”
“Mmm,” he mumbled, looking as if he were about to say more. “You do, however, have symbols of protection around the shop...above the door, for example.” He pointed to a woven twig pentacle decorated with rosemary and sage. “Are you worried about something?”
Rupert had done his homework, but that wasn’t really surprising seeing as they knew he had once attempted to perform necromancy and was mostly likely still trying, as well as having bought the House of Spirits because of his interest in all things occult.
“No,” she answered politely. “I think they’re lovely for decoration.”
Fortunately, before he could ask anything else, a middle-aged women came sidling over to the counter eager to speak to Avery, and with a smile of relief at the interruption, she started to chat to her, turning her back on Rupert.
By the time Dan returned at midday, bringing steaming coffees and hot Cornish pasties for lunch, House of Spirit’s Occult Tours had moved on, and Sally was hoping that several of them would return later for the talk. Dan, however, had more pressing topics on his mind, and he raised his eyebrows at Avery. “Well, what a hotbed of salacious gossip and tragedy I’ve found!”
“Really? You found out about the performance?” Avery looked at him, astonished. She’d half thought it would be a waste of time.
“Of course I have!” He pushed the bag in front of her and Sally. “Come on, eat them while they’re hot.”
The rich smell of warm pastry and meat filled the shop, and Avery fished hers from the paper bag, breaking off a piece. “Thanks Dan, this is delicious. Don’t keep me hanging, now. What have you found out?”
Dan swallowed his mouthful. “Just bear in mind that I’ve pieced this together from several accounts published over a few days in the local White Haven Gazette, and some articles were really small.” When Sally and Avery both nodded, he said, “Tristan and Iseult was performed in 1964 at White Haven Little Theatre at Beltane. White Haven has always embraced its witchy past, but it seems that with the arrival of the sixties and a more liberal outlook on life, the pagan celebrations were beginning to grow in popularity.”
“Really?” Avery asked. “I thought this town always embraced its magical roots.”
“It has, but to a lesser degree. This shop, for example, has always been here, as have a few others. But it was more low-key pre-sixties. There were solstice celebrations too, but nothing like it has become today. Anyway, as you already know, the White Haven Players were performing it then, too.”
“Come on, Dan, salacious gossip, please!” Sally prompted him, brushing crumbs from her jumper.
“Patience is a virtue,” he said, smirking. “Oh, all right then. The two leads, Tristan and Iseult, had a real-life affair. Tristan was married, but she wasn’t. The scandal broke up his marriage. They ended up moving in together, living in a little cottage in West Haven. He had kids, so it was all around quite sad, but I think it’s fair to say that the theatre members were a bohemian bunch, anyway—well, for that time. And although the scandal filled the papers for days, it didn’t seem to bother them much. But it gets weirder! Iseult also had an affair with the actor playing King Mark, who wasn’t married, and went to live with him a few weeks after the end of the play, leaving Tristan heartbroken. And this is where life really imitates art. Tristan killed himself.”
“What?” Avery said, horrified. “How?”
“There was a summer storm, high seas and winds, and he threw himself off the cliffs somewhere between here and Harecombe—you know, off the coastal walk. Well, that’s what they surmised afterwards. His car was found on the car park next to the start of the track. His body was discovered further down the coast.”
Avery had stopped eating, her mouth open in shock. “That’s terrible. And Iseult?”
“Threw herself under a train a few days later.”
Sally’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, no!”
“And I’m not sure what happened to King Mark—yet. I don’t think he killed himself. I have a feeling he moved away.” Dan finished his pasty, wiping his fingers on the paper napkin. “I looked at other performances later that year, but his name wasn’t on any other bills. I think he either left the company or the area.”
Avery leaned back against the wall behind the counter, her mind whirling. “How long was the play on for?”
“One week. Reviews were phenomenal, and the play was packed out.” Dan frowned. “The performance really seemed to grab people, although it’s hard to get a real flavour from the newspaper reports. Oh, and I should add that there were reports of fights among cast members, too.”
“Who?” Avery asked.
“I’m not sure if they said—I’ll check.”
“That was,” Sally paused as she worked out the time frame, “fifty-six years ago. It’s possible some of the locals would remember that. I presume you have all of the actor’s names?”
“Of course. But there’s more,” Dan warned them. “I think I know who cast the spell, and you won’t like it.”
“Please don’t say you suspect it was my family,” Avery said, her chest tightening with fear.
“No. I think it was Rufus Faversham—Caspian’s grandfather.”
Avery leapt to her feet, almost upending the stool. “What? How? Why?” Her raised voice drew the attention of a few shoppers, and she sat down quickly and lowered her voice. “Dan?”
All three leaned forward, their heads close together. “The actress who played Iseult was called Yvonne Warner, and I came across a reference to her working for Kernow Industries. She was a secretary there, working for the management team apparently, and she’d left the company only weeks before. Obviously the paper didn’t speculate anything, they wouldn’t want to be sued for libel, but I wondered what happened with Rufus for her to leave a very good job.”
“Wow,” Sally said. “He would have been as powerful a witch as Caspian, surely. Didn’t you say, Avery, that the spell on the script was strong?”
Avery barely heard her speak; her mind was racing with possibilities. “I guess so,” she eventually answered. “But it could have been his wife or another family member, too. Perhaps they’d had an affair, or he’d made advances toward her and she had to leave.” She straightened, resolute. “I need to speak to Caspian. What was her name, again?”
“Yvonne Warner.” Dan pulled a notebook from his backpack. “I noted a few key dates and names, and I’m going to see if I can find out about the other cast members, too. I also have a photo of her, and I copied some of the articles, too.” He put down a faded colour image of a very pretty blonde woman on the counter. Everything about it screamed the 1960s—her hair, makeup, and the dress she wore.
“She’s so pretty,” Sally said, picking the image up. “How tragic.”
“And here’s one of Tristan.” Dan pushed the photocopy of a young man with brown hair across the counter. He was good looking and confident, a smile on his face. “His name was Charles Ball.”
“Thanks, Dan. You’re a star,” Avery said to him. “I’m heading up to my flat so I can phone Caspian.”
“He probably won’t know anything,” Sally said to her, but Avery just nodded and went upstairs.
As soon as she was in the privacy of her home, she stood by the window, composing herself. Calling Caspian may be a bad idea, especially after the last time she saw him at Oswald’s. The memory of the kiss flooded back, and she paced across the room, trying to shake it off. The kiss was a mistake—a trick of Beltane. But Caspian could tell them more about the spell. They needed him if they were to avoid the disastrous outcome of the last time the play was performed. She wanted to fly to his office, but decided that would be a terrible idea. He could be in a meeting, or out somewhere. She phoned him, and he picked up in seconds.
> “Avery, what a pleasure.” He sounded cool and composed. “How can I help you?”
“I need to talk to you about Tristan and Iseult—the play, I mean.”
“Sure, why?” He sounded amused. “Do you like love triangles?”
Her voice tightened with annoyance. “No, actually. They’re messy and horrible. I think your grandfather, Rufus Faversham, may have put a spell on the play.”
“What play?”
“The play that’s being performed in White Haven right now!”
He laughed. “Are you insane?”
“No! I’m being very reasonable, actually. The White Haven Players are behaving irrationally, the play is bewitched, the theatre now seems to be haunted, and the last time it was performed things ended very badly. We need to stop it, but we were thwarted last night by a ghost at the theatre.”
“Wow. You really are sounding a little crazed right now.”
Wind whipped around Avery again, and she forced herself to calm down. “It would be helpful if we could talk face to face. You could join us in the pub later, perhaps?”
“Where are you now?”
“At home in my flat.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
He ended the call before Avery could protest, and the familiar swirl of witch-flight appeared before her, solidifying into Caspian.
“You wanted me?” He opened his arms wide, smirking at her. “I’m all yours.”
“You can start by behaving,” she remonstrated.
“I am!” He looked around her flat, frowning. “Things look different. Oh! Alex has moved in. I suppose that was inevitable. Have you told him we kissed?”
She glared at him. “No. And you kissed me!”
He shrugged, still smirking. “So, what’s the big deal?”
“There isn’t one, and I am not debating our very brief kiss. It won’t happen again. Can we discuss the play now?”
“That’s okay, Avery, I like that it’s our secret.” Caspian sat down on one of the chairs around her dining table. “If we must discuss the play, go on.”
The word ‘secret’ needled her, and she didn’t like it, but she pushed it to the back of her mind, summarising her conversation with Dan, and explaining about the scripts. “The cover of the play has a very complex series of sigils on it, inscribed with a fire spell, and there are runes above the character’s names in the script. It seems that the longer the play goes on, the stronger the magic becomes. We think the first performance has triggered this fog.”
For the first time, Caspian looked out of the window. “Bloody hell! We have blue skies in Harecombe.”
Avery stood by the French doors that opened out onto her small balcony. “I know. I’ve seen the news. This fog hasn’t shifted since Saturday night. We think that the first performance caused it to manifest.”
He stood next to her, peering into the gloom. “An unnatural fog. Interesting. I wonder what it conceals.”
“Conceals?” She looked at him, confused. “Why would it conceal anything?”
He shrugged. “Maybe I’m wrong, but normally unnatural fog covers the land or sea, allowing something else to manifest.”
Avery remembered the conversation with Sally and Dan earlier and groaned. “I hope it isn’t Lyonesse.”
“Lyonesse? The mystical isle that vanished beneath the waves?” He looked confused. “That was rumoured to be between Land’s End and the Scilly Isles, not here.”
“I know that! But Alex has been having dreams about a mist at sea, and this play is associated with Lyonesse—Tristan was its heir. What if that is manifesting out there?”
Caspian stared at her, and Avery became uncomfortably aware of how close he was. She scented his aftershave, something peppery, and stepped back a fraction. “That would be very powerful magic indeed, and ships would be in danger of running aground.” He paused, looking out at the fog again, his gaze unfocussed. “Or it could be a powerful illusion, but who knows for what purpose.”
Avery folded her arms across her chest. “What do you know about Rufus?”
He turned to look at her again, leaning against the window frame. “My grandfather was a proud man, skilled at magic like all of my family, and a successful businessman who had a happy marriage and three kids—my father, my uncle, and my aunt. He set up Kernow Industries, expanding on Kernow Shipping.” Caspian also folded his arms, looking amused. “I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be having an affair with a part-time actress and secretary.”
“Your ancestor, Thaddeus, was a successful businessman, and yet he slept with and then abandoned Helena, when she was pregnant, no less! I think it’s highly possible.”
“Oh! Questioning my family’s morals now, are you?”
“Yes! Of course I am considering our chequered history. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Yvonne worked for your grandfather!”
Caspian regarded her silently for a moment, and then said, “All right, I’ll look into my grandfather’s past, and search our grimoires for spells such as you’ve mentioned. Although, I still maintain it’s ridiculous.”
“If you could find a photo of him, that would be helpful,” Avery added. “I’d like to know if he looks like the ghost we saw in the theatre.”
He nodded. “Show me the play before I go.”
Avery led him up to the attic and handed him the script, which had been on her worktable. The sigils’ light had faded, but she repeated the spell Alex had taught her and they flared into life again. Avery saw a flash of surprise on Caspian’s face, and he stiffened for a moment.
“What?” Avery asked.
He looked up at her, his face growing pale. “I recognise one of those signs. I’ve seen it in my grimoire, somewhere.”
Avery faltered, not sure if this was good or bad. No, it had to be a good thing. “Good, that will help decipher it, yes?”
“Maybe. I need to take this with me.”
“Okay. But not for long. We need to try to break the enchantment.”
“Can’t you just get them all back?” he asked, wiggling the script at her. “That would solve everything, surely.”
“We’re planning on trying a finding spell, but haven’t had a chance yet. We also don’t want to alarm anyone prematurely.”
Caspian nodded absently. “All right, leave it with me. I’ll be in touch tomorrow morning.” He smiled before he vanished. “Lovely to work with you again.”
16
All afternoon Avery brooded on her conversation with Caspian, and his jibe about their secret.
There was a look behind his eyes when he realised that she and Alex were living together. A look of resignation. She suspected his accusation was meant to rile her, and it succeeded. Guilt ate away at her. She loved Alex, and hated to keep secrets from him, but what would he say if he found out? Would he understand that it was the madness of Beltane and that it was all Caspian’s doing, or would he be furious? Would he leave her? That was her biggest fear.
She must have looked distracted, because Sally cornered her in the kitchen mid-afternoon, just before Dan was due to give his talk. A few people had already arrived, circling the occult section, and Sally had come in to collect more biscuits.
“What’s going on, Avery?”
Avery looked up from the collection of books she’d been sorting through. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. Ever since you saw Caspian, you’ve looked haunted. What did he say?”
“I told you, he’s—”
Sally cut her off. “No! Not that. What else happened?”
Avery froze and then her hands flew to her face, pressing her cheeks. “He kissed me, and I haven’t told Alex.”
“What?” Sally’s voice rose in shock and she put the plate of biscuits down on the table, and put her hands on her hips. “Today? Upstairs?”
“No! Not today. Last week, just before the Witches Council meeting. But it was a moment of madness—Beltane magic! I saw it in his eyes, and he pu
lled me beneath the trees, and well...it just happened! And it was only for a few seconds before I pushed him away!”
Sally went still for a moment, and then her shoulders dropped. “So, he kissed you?”
“Yes! It all happened so fast that I couldn’t react quickly enough. I was horrified.” Avery dropped onto a chair and explained in more detail what happened. “What will Alex think? He’ll hate me! Oh shit. What if he leaves me?”
Sally rolled her eyes. “Bloody hell, Avery. Alex is not going to leave you over that! But you really shouldn’t put yourself in situations where you’re going to be alone with Caspian. It just gives him opportunities.” She floundered for words. “He’s not worthy of you.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Avery remonstrated. “I used witch-flight to arrive on Oswald’s drive, and he appeared only seconds after me! Then the Goddess did her thing and Caspian seized the moment. I could see it in his eyes. He wasn’t thinking straight, either.”
Sally looked sceptical. “Mmm. Was that Beltane, or was that his feelings for you?” Sally eased into a chair and her voice softened. “Besides, I didn’t mean then, I meant today! You should have spoken with him down here.”
“He’s not some mad rapist, Sally.”
“But he likes being alone with you. It makes him feel like he’s got one up on Alex. It’s sad, really. He knows you love Alex, and that he loves you. Hell, you’ve moved in together. That must have stung. But Caspian is a grown man, and he’ll deal with it. That’s why he went away—he’s admitted that. Unfortunately, love is not so easily dismissed, is it?”
“Love?” Avery looked at Sally, shocked. “I don’t think it’s as serious as love.”
She looked Avery squarely in the eye, unflinching. “Oh, I think it is. But regardless, you need to tell Alex, before he finds out in some weird, convoluted way.”
“I know. What do you think he’ll do?”
“I think he’ll be mad as hell, and then because he’s reasonable and loves you, he’ll calm down, eventually. He might want to punch Caspian, though.” Sally shrugged. “But it’s also Beltane magic. We’re all behaving slightly irrationally right now. Me and Sam are still a bit odd, if I’m honest.”