by Raquel Lyon
“And that’s great. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, and I think Sophie would agree with me here”—she glanced over to her friend, whose face looked as though she was wondering where Beth was going with this—“it’s that it’s always better to share the craziness.”
“Actually, my life is pretty boring. Not crazy at all.”
“I have a feeling that’s about to change.”
“Oh? Why?”
“I see something in you,” Beth said. “I’m not entirely sure what it is yet, but I’m intrigued enough to find out.”
“What do you mean see something?”
“Call me psychic, call me imaginative—heck, call me stupid, if you like—but I sense something... well... unusual. Have you any idea what that might be?”
“None whatsoever.” Piper was unsure whether to feel fascinated by Beth’s statement or just plain affronted. She opted for affronted. It wasn’t as if she had another head or an invisible tail. She was perfectly normal, thank you very much, unlike the woman before her who, despite outward appearances, Piper was starting to think was as daft as a fruit bat.
Beth turned back to Sophie. “What do you think? Can you see anything?”
“You know I lost that ability years ago, Beth. I trust your instinct, but let’s not scare Piper away before we’ve got to know her at least a little,” Sophie said, the sound of the front door scraping open and banging to a close mingling with the end of her sentence. “Ah, the men are here. Shall we go through to the dining room? You can continue your conversation in there while I bring the food through.”
Piper followed the women into a room as opulent as the living room in decoration. A huge mahogany table surrounded by twelve cushioned chairs took centre stage, with a myriad of fine china regimentally placed around one end of it. She stared up at the ornate ceiling, painted with depictions of Heaven and Hell in a bloody battle for supremacy, and contemplated how long she’d have to stay before leaving without being impolite. Her art study was interrupted when two unbelievably handsome men walked into the room, laughing jovially. They kissed their respective partners on the cheek and introduced themselves to Piper.
Although perfectly cordial in his manner, Sebastian greeted her with an air of suspicion, so she was quite relieved when he left the room to help his wife fetch the food. The other man, whom she recognised as Beth’s date from the previous evening, was much friendlier. His dark-brown hair and matching eyes reminded her of the man who’d sold her the box, but Sam’s smile was wide and his eyes twinkled. She liked him immediately.
Beth gestured for Piper to sit down as the table began to fill with various platters and dishes containing deliciously smelling goodies Piper couldn’t wait to start piling onto her plate. But she held her stomach, hoping no one could hear its impatient complaints, and listened to Sam chatting freely about how he had known both Sophie and Beth from his college days, but had only recently moved to Fosswell for his job and started seeing Beth. Tonight’s dinner was their sixth date.
“Yeah, he’s quite honoured,” Beth said. “Six dates with the same man is a big commitment from me, but then Sam is pretty special, aren’t you, sweetie?”
“Aren’t we all?” he answered with a smile.
“What about you, Piper? Anyone special in your life?” Beth asked.
“Special?”
“Any dashing, young stud swept you off your feet yet?”
“Oh. No. No, not yet,” Piper said, as her hosts sat down and gestured for everyone to dig in.
“What, never?”
“I’ve had other priorities.”
“Like stepping into your father’s shoes?”
“It wasn’t really an option.”
“How long is it he’s been gone?” Sam cut in.
“Six months,” Piper said with a small frown.
“And the police have no leads?” he asked.
“Not that they’ve disclosed to me.”
Beth laid her hand on Sam’s arm. “You see why I think it could be a case for your department?”
“We’d need more to go on than that.”
Beth turned back to Piper. “Sam works for a very special department of the police force. They deal with... let’s say... more unusual cases. I thought he might be able to help. Perhaps you could tell him a bit more about your situation?”
Tension rose in Piper’s chest. If she’d known Beth had an ulterior motive for inviting her, she never would have come. She’d told the police everything she knew already, and she had no desire to go through it all again, but wherever she went, the spectre of her father’s disappearance seemed to be there, lingering like a dirty mark on the carpet you couldn’t just ignore by covering it up with a well-placed chair.
“It’s all in Detective Newton’s file,” she said.
“Sometimes it’s useful to go beyond times and dates,” Beth said, as everyone filled their plates with food. “For instance, what kind of man was he?”
Piper thought it an interesting question, considering her previous meeting at the bank, and one she had no idea how to answer anymore. She settled for: “He was a good father.”
“I’ve no doubt he was, but I meant as a man. Was there anything unusual about him?”
Piper chewed and swallowed a piece of melt-in-the-mouth meat before replying. Beth was clearly obsessed with seeing things that weren’t there. “No. Nothing.” Then, as an afterthought, she added, “Although, earlier today, I found out he had a friend I knew nothing about.”
Beth shuffled higher in her chair and left her next forkful of mashed potato hovering over the plate. “Really? Who?”
“Mr Smithers.”
“Who’s Mr Smithers?”
“He’s my bank manager,” Piper mumbled through a huge slice of Yorkshire pudding, wondering why she had to keep answering questions when there was a bounty of heavenly food to occupy her mouth.
Sebastian looked up, seemingly seeing her for the first time. His eyes—the inviting colour of the sea in travel brochures—bore sharply into hers. “He knew Bernard?”
She shrugged. “I never caught his first name, but yes, apparently.”
“Bernard doesn’t socialise with humans,” he said with a sceptical frown.
“I knew it!” Beth said excitedly. “I knew there was something about you. What are you? Come on. You can speak freely here. Your secret’s safe with us.”
Piper laid her cutlery down, debating whether her full stomach had been worth dining with the strangest people she’d ever met. “I haven’t the first clue what you’re talking about.”
“It’s okay, really,” Beth said. “There isn’t a person sitting around this table who wouldn’t understand.”
“Honestly, what you see is what you get with me.”
“There’s no need to pretend.”
“I’m not,” Piper said, her anger bubbling.
“Have you considered the possibility she might not know?” Sophie said. “If you remember, neither of us was aware of the intricacies of the world we live in at her age.”
Sebastian cleared his throat. “Perhaps her lack of knowledge is for good reason—one in which we should not interfere.”
“Her father is missing, and if he is one of us, we should help,” Beth said. “Besides, the cat’s kind of out of the bag now.”
“Nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a memory potion.” Sebastian said.
Piper planted her palms on the tabletop. “A what? Look, I’m sorry. I don’t want to appear ungrateful for the hospitality, but is anyone going to start making sense soon, or are you just going to leave me guessing as to why I feel as though I’ve eaten a really delicious meal during a particularly freaky dream?” She glanced at everyone in turn, and waited while they exchanged their own looks and nods.
It was Beth who spoke.
“You have two choices, Piper. I can take you home right now, where you’ll likely spend the next days, weeks, months sitting in that little shop of yours waiting for the sl
im chance that your father will walk back into your life, or you can stay and discover things that will ensure you never look at anything in this world the same way again.”
Piper sat in silence and considered Beth’s proposition, her eyes flicking over the faces awaiting her decision. Going home would certainly be the sensible option, but wouldn’t she always wonder what she might have missed and whether anyone in this room really could be the key to solving her problem, or were just a bunch of whack-jobs she needed to keep well away from, in future? After all, in six months, the police were no nearer to discovering why she was suddenly fatherless than they had been in one week. If these people could help her unearth why her father had kept secrets from her and where he could be, shouldn’t she let them? And then there was the case of the strange box and the even stranger boy’s interest in it...
She drained the last of her wine from her glass and set it down.
“I’ll stay.”
Chapter Nine
BETH’S EYES SPARKLED WITH satisfaction. “I had a feeling you might.” She glanced at the dessert waiting on the sideboard. “Do you like cheesecake?”
“Is that a trick question?” Piper asked, confused as to what her preference for pastries had to do with anything.
“Not at all. I believe it’s strawberry.”
“Yes. I like cheesecake.”
“So do I. Let’s have a slice, shall we?” As Beth spoke, she extended her arm towards the cake, and her fingers unfurled like flower petals welcoming the morning sun. Slowly, the plate rose from the sideboard and floated towards them before settling on the table.
“Neat trick,” Piper said, looking up to the ceiling. “I can’t see the wires at all.”
“There are no wires,” Beth said. “I’m a witch.”
Piper laughed softly. “Yeah, right.”
“Your scepticism is understandable. We’ve all been through it. I had the same reaction when I found out Seb was a werewolf.”
Piper was grateful she’d finished eating as she almost choked on her own spittle. She looked across the table to the man whose eyes were definitely wolfish enough for it to be true, however impossible. “You’re a werewolf?” she asked, hiding her amusement at the absurdity of Beth’s revelation from Sebastian’s steely stare.
He gave a slow nod.
“Prove it,” she challenged.
“I can’t do that,” he said.
“Why? Is it not a full moon?” she goaded. Really, if they expected her to believe in mumbo-jumbo, they should at least make an effort.
“Despite the moon’s hold on me, I am no longer chained to its power. I change freely, but it would not be safe for me to do so here.”
“Of course, it wouldn’t. How about you, Sophie? What are you purporting to be?”
“Nothing.” She smiled. “I was once a trainee goddess, but that part of my life is over.”
A derisive puff of air shot from Piper’s nose. The evening was getting more absurd by the minute. “This is all very entertaining, but I think it was a mistake for me to stay.” She stood up and pulled her jacket from the back of her chair, readying to leave.
Sam also stood.
“You haven’t asked about me,” he said.
“Let me guess...” She took in his dark eyes and sun-starved face. “You’re a vampire?”
He laid a hand on her arm. “No. I’m not a vampire.” His eyes no longer smiled, and as Piper stared into them, a sense of peace warmed through her, and her desire to leave melted away. “Quite the opposite, actually. Let me show you.”
Beth raised her hand nervously. “Um, sweetie, is that wise?”
“Piper needs proof. Don’t worry,” he said, stepping back, “there’s room over here by the window.”
Piper watched, fascinated, as a sound similar to ripping Velcro filled the air. Sam’s silhouette bowed its head and two shapes grew out of its shoulders. Seconds later, the shapes took form and transformed into a pair of huge wings Piper estimated must each be six feet in length.
“Wow. That’s very impressive,” she said. “Certainly beats a flying cake. Was it an interest in magic that brought you two together?”
“So cynical for one so young,” Sam said. “Come closer. I can see you need convincing of the absence of witchcraft.”
Piper hesitated, but something propelled her feet to creep forward. Sam held out his hand, and when she took it, he pulled her closer and steered her behind him as his wings folded down.
“Take a good look,” he said. “Touch them if you like.”
Piper ran her hands over the grey feathers. They certainly felt real. She moved her fingers up to the base of one where it joined with flesh and bone. That felt real, too. But how could that be? It wasn’t possible. People didn’t just grow wings. Diverting her attention to where the wings rose through parted material, she pulled it to one side and touched the enlarged muscles around their base where they joined seamlessly to his back.
“Convinced yet?” Sam asked.
“They... They do look authentic.”
“Because they are.”
They couldn’t be. Because if they were, that would mean everything she’d heard at the dinner table could be true, too. She had to know. “Do they work?”
“Wouldn’t be much use if they didn’t, would they?” he said as the wings lifted and fluttered gently, and his feet rose from the floor.
The room spun, and Piper couldn’t feel her legs anymore. “I-I think I need to sit down,” she said, at the very moment her knees gave way and she sank into Sebastian’s arms. How had he got over to her so quickly?
Sebastian carried her into the living room and set her down on the sofa. “Take a few deep breaths,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”
Piper looked deep into his eyes, unsure if she’d ever feel fine again. Was he really a...? “Werewolf?” she said.
“From a very long line.”
“But how—?”
“How can people not know and the whole town not organise a witch-hunt against us?”
“Well... Something like that, yes.”
“This is quite a special town, Piper. One which has rules, and every Supe knows the main one is to keep our existence hidden from humans.”
Piper eased up to lean against the sofa’s arm, feeling slightly woozy. “Supe?”
“Supernatural being, of which there are many different kinds.” He pushed to standing and looked down at her. “I guess the question now is... what kind are you?”
“Me? I’m nothing. Don’t you think I’d know if I changed into a monster, grew wings, or could fly a cake halfway across the room?”
Beth squeezed onto the edge of the sofa, forcing Piper to bend her legs and hug her knees. “It’s not that weird that you wouldn’t,” Beth said. “You must be what... seventeen?”
“Good guess.”
“I was seventeen recently.”
“Four years ago, Beth.” Sophie laughed.
“Yeah, well, my point is... It’s a very significant age—seventeen—a confusing time. Half of you can’t wait to be an adult, and the other half is mourning the loss of your childhood.”
“What are you saying?”
“I think the point Beth is clumsily trying to make is that there are many Supes who don’t take their true form until maturity,” Sebastian said. “It’s possible you’re one of those. Of course, it would help if we knew your lineage.”
“I’m just a girl.”
“How long have you lived in Fosswell?” Sophie asked, sitting on the opposing sofa.
“All my life.”
“What about your parents?”
“Moved here before I was born.”
“Where from?”
“Up north somewhere.”
Beth laid her arm along the back of the sofa cushion. “Could you be more specific?”
“No. I can’t remember. They didn’t like to talk about the past. Some kind of family argument. I learned not to ask questions.”
“D
o you have grandparents?”
“Never met them.”
“And you’ve never wondered why?”
“I told you. There was an argument.”
“Hmm.” Beth lowered her eyes then raised them again to stare at Piper’s chest. “I love your medallion. Very Celtic. Not many girls choose to wear copper as a fashion statement. Mind if I take a look?” She held out her hand as Piper shrugged and shook her head. “Malachite, am I right?”
“Sorry?”
“The stone. And these markings... Do you know what they mean?”
“No.”
“Well, I do. This is an amulet. Strong protection against magical evil.”
“I just thought it was pretty.”
“Where did you get it?”
Along with the ring and beads, it had belonged to her mother. “It was Mum’s. Dad gave it to me when she left. He said wearing it would keep her close to my heart.”
“You know, I bet your mother was a witch or a sorceress.”
“No. No, my mother was a dancer. She ran away to Paris to pursue her dream. Dad always said she’d come back when she’d got it out of her system. Apparently that takes longer than six years,” Piper said bitterly.
Beth let the necklace fall back into place. “Could be true, but as you now know people are not always what they appear to be. Most people think I’m just a trainee school teacher.”
“Are you saying my parents lied to me?”
“Not lied, but maybe omitted the truth until you were old enough to understand.”
Piper wanted to say her father would never lie to her, but hadn’t she discovered today that he’d done just that? If only he were here to answer all the questions forming in her mind.
“Are you okay?” Sophie asked.
“Not really.”
“Can I get you anything: a drink, some strawberry cheesecake?”
The last thing Piper wanted was more food, when her stomach was ready to empty its contents all over the Persian carpet. “All I want is my dad back and, to be honest, my bed. I’m not feeling too good.”
“I understand. It’s a lot to take in. But maybe when you’ve had the chance to digest everything, you’ll find you remember something that could point us in the right direction.”