by Raquel Lyon
Annoyed at his broken machine, he looked over to where the main battle had taken place, grateful that his men had not let him down. The Voltignis were on the defensive, retreating over Charton Ridge towards the bordering mountains, empty-handed this time.
They were gone, but they would be back.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
OVER BREAKFAST, PIPER’S EYES flicked between Sophie and Sebastian. “I’ve been thinking,” she said. “I’m grateful for all you’ve done, but I think it’s about time I went home. I know it wasn’t your idea for me to come in the first place.”
“We love having you here, Piper,” Sophie said.
“That’s very kind of you, but now we know where my father is and that the potter wasn’t murdered, I feel bad intruding on your hospitality when it’s obvious I’m not in any danger.”
“Well, of course, we would never force you to stay, but I know Beth would be disappointed if you didn’t. She’s had a definite spark in her since she met you.”
“I’d call it more of an obsession. She treats me like a project.”
“She means well.”
“I know, but I miss my home. I miss the hustle of the town, the people, and if Dad has no intention of returning, there are things I need to sort.” And a key to find which, wherever it is, is not in this mausoleum. “Besides, I need to be in my own surroundings to remind me of who I am.” And search the flat from top to bottom. “Everything’s become a bit too surreal, lately.”
Sophie smiled. “I understand. Believe me.”
Sebastian lowered his empty coffee cup. “I have business in town this morning. I can drive you in.”
“Thank you. I’ll go pack.”
*****
Sebastian parked outside the nightclub, and Piper waved goodbye to him, from across the road before turning the corner to her shop. A small smile crept over her face. It felt good to be home. She’d missed the old place.
Dropping her bag to open the door, she noticed an envelope stuck between it and the mat. She wiggled it out and opened it as she climbed the stairs. It was her new bank book, and she blinked as she stared at the amount. That couldn’t be right. There must have been a mistake. All she’d hoped for was enough to fill the fridge a few times, but the total it was showing was enough to buy the whole supermarket, including the building. Her legs buckled and she collapsed onto the sofa. This was someone else’s book; it had to be. She flipped to the front page, but no, there was her name written in big, bold capitals.
Setting the book down on the coffee table, she continued to stare at it, confused. It wasn’t possible. All her life, her family had pinched pennies. Heck, she only had to look around at the peeling paint to know that there was no way her father earned anything like that kind of money. It couldn’t be hers, and despite a strong desire to keep it, her conscience wouldn’t let her. She would go to the bank and tell them about the mix-up as soon as she’d searched for clues to the whereabouts of Lambert’s key.
An hour later, Piper returned to the sofa and fell onto it, exhausted. Every inch of every room had been scoured, but there was no sign of the key. In a flash of inspiration, she tried to summon it, calling to it with her mind, but it didn’t oblige. Either it was somewhere in the shop, or her father had taken it with him. She stuffed the bank book into her back pocket and went to the window.
On the street below, a group of students walked past the window eating pies, and Piper realised how hungry she was. Was it lunchtime already? She patted the bank book in her pocket. Even if the full amount didn’t belong to her, some of it did. Surely, they had to allow her to withdraw enough for a trip to the bakery?
With a mixture of hope and hunger fluttering in her stomach, Piper decided to postpone searching the cluttered shop and went to the bank instead. She chewed on her lip as she waited for an old woman to finish prattling to the clerk about her grandson’s new job, until finally, it was her turn. Smiling nervously at the prim-looking woman behind the screen, she slid the book through the slot. “Hi,” she said. “I received this today, and I’d like to take out twenty, but I think there’s been a mistake.”
“I doubt it, madam. We don’t make mistakes.”
“Are you sure? Would you mind checking, please? The balance is far too high.”
The woman raised a sceptical brow and began tapping on her keyboard, repeatedly glancing between the open book and the monitor. “Everything seems to be in order here. You have a standing order that was set up, let’s see... seventeen years ago. The balance is an accumulation of those payments.”
“And you’re sure the money is all mine?”
“Yes, madam. Twenty, you say?”
In the corner of her vision, a door opened, but Piper stayed focused on the clerk. “Yes, but—”
“Piper. It’s good to see you again so soon. Plumbing problem?”
“Oh, hello, Mr Smithers. No, my pipes are fine. It’s my bank balance that seems to be on the blink.”
Mr Smithers looked at the clerk, who shrugged and shook her head as she passed him Piper’s book. He flicked through it as he emerged from behind the counter. “You’re a wealthy woman, Piper. Be happy,” he said, holding out the book for her to take.
She took it and turned to retrieve the twenty from the slot. “You realise that if I spend it and you later discover it was a mistake after all, I can’t pay it back? I’m not going to prison because some pen-pusher can’t add up properly.”
“It will not come to that. I assure you.”
“But where has all the money come from?”
“I told you. Your father.”
“And where did he get it from?”
“That, I cannot disclose.”
“Mr Smithers.” Piper leaned in and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m not the same girl who came to see you the other day. Things have changed. I know what you are, and I know what I am. My family are not from... here, but I guess you knew that.”
The bank manager looked down his nose with a knowing smile. “Your father was right about you being a bright girl, and as such, you understand the need for discretion.”
“And you must understand I have unanswered questions.”
“And yet, I am not the one to answer them.”
“Please, you have to help me.”
“I wish I could.” He steered Piper away from a customer approaching the counter. “When I say I am not the one to give you your answers, it is because I am unable to. Digger was a very private man. We talked about day-to-day things, common interests. He told me nothing of his past.”
“What about his future?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Did he mention anything about returning? Anything at all, like... I don’t know... catching up over a drink, playing that round of golf you’d been meaning to organise... anything?”
“Not that I recall. Why?”
“Because I’m not going to waste my time waiting if he’s not coming back. I need to make arrangements.”
“My dear girl, I believe that without any proof of his death, the law would require you to wait longer than six months before settling his affairs.”
“What about opening his safety deposit box? He clearly left whatever’s in there for me. You said so yourself.”
“I also said you needed the key.”
Piper sighed. “I’m beginning to hate that word.”
Chapter Thirty
WHEN PIPER LEFT THE BANK, the world looked different, brighter. Even the sun had decided to make an appearance. She smiled at everyone she met and said a cheery ‘hello’ to Mr Pilling as she passed by the florist shop. She hardly dared to believe it. She had money. For the first time in her life, she had money—and yet, she was stumped as to what to do with it.
Further down the street, two strangely dressed men caught her eye. She was in such a good mood she almost smiled at them too, but something about the way they were staring at her made her rethink. She ducked into the bakery, hoping they’d be gone by the time
she came out.
The aroma of freshly baked bread hit her as soon as she walked through the door, and her stomach swirled with anticipation. It all looked so delicious, and she took her time deciding what to choose. She wanted to sample everything on display, but after a few minutes of pondering, she settled for a cheese pasty and a slice of lemon drizzle cake.
Outside, the men appeared to have gone, and she hurried home, impatient to devour her tasty treat. She made it as far as the paper shop before the men stepped out from an alleyway and blocked her path. Averting her eyes, she assessed her chances of crossing the busy road, but the traffic was endless, and to get to the crossing, she would have to pass by the men. She stared at the ground as she waited for the road to quieten, and a pair of unusual snakeskin, biker boots came into view. Lifting her eyes up past leather trousers and a matching long coat to the heavily scarred face of one of the men, she gasped.
The man scowled. “What you looking at?”
“Nothing. Sorry.”
“Perhaps you know who we are?”
“Should I?”
“You tell us.”
“I have no idea. Excuse me.” Piper stepped to one side, hoping they would step to the other, but instead, the one who’d spoken moved as she did. She stepped to the other side, intending to squeeze past somehow, but the other one pre-empted her move, completing the imposing barrier of muscle staring menacingly down upon her.
Deciding dodging the traffic would be the safer option, Piper sidestepped again, but the first man snagged her arm and pulled her into the alley. He ran his thumb and forefinger down the lapel of her jacket.
“Where did you get this?”
“It was a present.”
“Who from?”
“None of your business. Let go of me.”
“Not until you tell us what we want to know.”
A burning rush of anger raced through Piper’s veins, as if her infinity with fire threatened to break through and turn the man to cinders. She gritted her teeth as she struggled to escape his hold, and her baked goods dropped to the floor and fell victim to the snakeskin boots. “I said, let go of me.”
The men laughed as Piper fought for release, weighing up what would happen if she used her magic. In the shadows of the alley, she might be able to get away with it, but what if someone saw? Would she be hauled up in front of some supernatural jury for exposing herself in front of humans? Then again, with only a couple of days of training, her magical knowledge was limited and she had no clue as to what kind to use. She really should have stayed longer at the Towers to learn more, but she hadn’t counted on being attacked in the street on her first day away from the place.
In his overconfidence, the man’s hold on Piper loosened, and she took advantage, ducking under his arm to make a run for safety, but she was quickly jolted back as her collar was caught by a huge fist. She wriggled out of her jacket—as much as she loved it, it wasn’t worth getting killed over—but as she turned towards freedom, she was blocked once more. She backed up against the wall as the men closed in. “What do you want from me?” she screamed.
The stench of stagnant breath invaded her nostrils as her jacket was thrust in front of her face. “Why don’t you start by telling us who gave you clothing made from Voltignis hide?”
Voltignis? Surely she had misheard? She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, a voice sounded from the street.
“Gentlemen. It appears the girl wishes to part company with you. May I suggest you allow her the courtesy?”
Her assailants spun round as Sebastian strode towards them.
“Away with you. This is no business of yours.”
“I fear you have made it my business,” Sebastian said.
“You have no idea who you are dealing with.”
A smile tugged at Sebastian’s lips. “Then do please enlighten me.”
The men faced up to him, mouths twisting into snarls. “Leave. Now.”
Sebastian stood tall and bowed his head. When he looked up through his lashes, his eyes had turned to slits and he growled, “I don’t think so.” His growl grew louder as hair sprouted from his face. His teeth lengthened to fangs and claws sprouted from his fingernails.
Piper froze. Her eyes flicked to the sunlight in the street behind him. Any moment now, someone could walk past the alley entrance and see the monster emerging. She looked back to Sebastian. With his wolf head and misshapen, fur-covered legs, his chest was all that remained as evidence of his humanity. He’d grown so large that, standing on his hind legs, drool splattered from his vicious-looking snout onto the men’s shaved heads. Why were they not running for their lives? It was the first thing she would have done had she not already known what Sebastian was, and that he was on her side, but even so, her heart began to pound as she backed away slowly.
“Hmm.” The man with the scarred face assessed his opponent. “It appears we have an upstart shifter who thinks he is a big man.” He indicated to his partner to take care of Piper and puffed out his chest. “I kill beasts like you for sport.”
As the second man grabbed Piper, Sebastian’s claws shot out, swiping at Scarred Face’s head, but he ducked and shot out his own hand to emit a beam of power that propelled the wolf against the wall with a sickening crack. Sebastian shook his head, dazed, but quickly righted himself and leapt towards his attacker. His body halted mid-air, held high by another crackling beam winding around his throat, leaving his feet running to nowhere.
Hope of rescue wilted in Piper’s chest. The men were warlocks—and probably very powerful ones at that. All Sebastian had on his side was brawn. He was no match for their magic, and neither was she, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do something... Only what?
She wriggled in the second man’s hold and spotted a wooden crate. With all the mental strength she could muster, she propelled it at Scarred Face. It hit him side on, and he reeled long enough for his beam to break. His head shot around with a stunned expression, and he glared at Piper as Sebastian fell to the ground.
His lapse of concentration was all Sebastian needed to recover and launch himself at his enemy. Landing on the warlock’s back, he flattened him to the ground and sank his fangs into thick neck muscle before pulling away with a chunk dangling and dripping blood onto the concrete.
Piper’s arm prison fell away as the second man took off into the street. She ran after him, hoping to pull him back to face the wolf, but she was too late. All she saw was the tail of his coat fleeing around the corner. When she turned back to Sebastian, his human form was crouched, retrieving his jacket from the floor, and she couldn’t help but notice the smooth lines of his muscular figure. She liked him much better as a human.
“What were you doing to attract those men?” he asked without looking at her.
“Nothing, I swear.”
“They were not from around here, and they were after you. They must know who you are.”
“How can they? I don’t even know who I am.”
He pulled his mobile phone from the inside pocket and stood as he dialled a number.
Piper noticed his trousers had split up the back, and he was going commando. She tried to look anywhere else. “Um... I’ll... um... run home and see if I can find any of my dad’s clothes that might fit you.”
“No need,” he said, holding up a finger as he turned to speak into the handset. “Clean up required. Sixty-four High Street, Fosswell.”
“You can’t walk into the street half naked,” she said as he ended the call.
“Don’t worry about me. Go home and get your stuff. Be ready in half an hour.” And before her eyes, he vanished into thin air.
Piper gaped at the spot where he’d been standing, wondering how someone could just disappear, when the air in the alley began to shimmer. Fearing that the remaining warlock might be returning to collect his partner’s body, she ran for the safety of the street and peered her head tentatively around the wall. But it wasn’t the warlock who materialised, and she
watched, fascinated, as a bearded man wearing long, red robes flickered into view. He waved his arms over Scarred Face’s remains while chanting some indistinguishable words, and within seconds, all traces of the dead warlock were eradicated.
Chapter Thirty-One
WITH HER MIND BUSY trying to understand all the possible reasons why two warlocks had crossed dimensions and been so interested in her jacket, Piper abandoned the idea of a baked lunch and hurried home. She couldn’t face the thought of eating now, and besides, it wasn’t as if her stomach wasn’t used to skipping meals. Walking along the high street and rounding the corner, she scanned the street a number of times for signs of any more strange men. Thankfully, everything appeared to be normal, but as she pushed her key into the lock, a cloud snuffed out the sun, and her spine prickled. The streets might be normal, but something was definitely wrong here. She could feel it.
She entered the stairwell and opened the shop door. Her hand flew to her mouth as she inhaled a sharp breath. Broken furniture spewed ornaments onto the floor, doors hung from cupboards and cabinets, and paintings dangled askew on their hooks. The beep of the alarm filtered through her shock and she raised her hand to disarm it, annoyed at the fact that it hadn’t gone off. Stupid, faulty thing. What was the point in it being there if it didn’t do the one thing it was designed for?
Her first thought was burglars, but picking her way through the debris, she discovered many valuable items left untouched. Even the display of jewellery remained intact, despite the case being smashed. In fact, as her feet crunched on fragments of glass and she adjusted upturned tables and cleared a path to the counter, she couldn’t see a single thing missing, and deduced it was probably kids vandalising the place.
She should call the police. It was what anyone else would do, wasn’t it? But hadn’t the police proven worse than useless, so far? And if they started asking questions about why she’d spent days away from home, she’d have to lie.