I ready my retort, still unconvinced, but this time Trevor gets in the next word.
He raises a finger and points to the door. "Get out, Farrow. Get out and stay out of here until I personally tell you that you can come back inside. Do you understand me?"
Caleb doesn't need to be told twice. He swipes his shoes from the floor, slides past Trevor and dashes out the door. Trevor turns to follow but I stop him with a question.
"Why did you let him go?" I ask, once Caleb is out of earshot.
He looks at me, incredulous. "Let him go? What was I meant to do, Nat? Throw one of Britain's leading actors into the nick because he wanted to shower in secret?"
Hands on my hips, I rise to his challenge. "How do you know the shower excuse wasn't a cover for something else? Caleb and Vivian were having an affair. Did you know that? Maybe he poisoned her to keep her from telling his partner."
"Having an affair?" Trevor's tone rises. "Surely you don't believe that ridiculous rumour…" He shakes his head, looking at me in dismay.
I rear back as though I've been struck. "How do you know it is nothing more than a rumour? My uncle's production is at stake here, Trevor. Someone has gone to extreme lengths to stop it. We have to investigate every potential lead, even if it ends up being nothing more than gossip."
Trevor exhales, his expression softening. "I know you mean well, Nat, but you need to leave investigating to the professionals. Do I have to remind you what happened at Barnard College? You went off on your own, headstrong, and you got shot!"
My cheeks flush at the injustice in his words. "I didn't go off on my own. Edward was with me when that happened. I can't sit back and wait. There are other factors in play here, Trevor. Things you can't understand."
"Then tell me, Nat. Make me understand. Let me do my job."
Our eyes meet, neither of us blinking. I stare deep into his eyes, searching for a clue of what will happen next. We need Trevor's help. We had planned for Edward to tell Trevor the truth about the magic. But now he is here with me. I wrestle with the options and finally settle on one.
I blow the air from my lungs and throw my hands skyward. "Edward wanted to be the one to tell you. We all agreed. But you're here now…"
Trevor cocks his head to the side, confused by the turn of the conversation. "Tell me what, Nat?"
"About the… the existence of…" The words escape me. "It's easier if I show you."
Trevor remains quiet as he follows me out of the trailer and across the back garden.
When we cross under the arch, his curiosity gets the better of him. "Where are we going, Nat?"
I don't reply, too busy hunting for the best way to reveal the truth. With Harry, I told her we were meeting a group of actors. In Edward's case, I let the key work its magic, unlocking his own capabilities. Clearly, neither of those is an option with Trevor. He is a man of facts. He will need evidence, not an explanation.
I lead Trevor inside the main building and up the stairs, heading towards the meeting room where my grandfather, H and Molly await my arrival.
"If you're wasting my time, Nat," Trevor growls.
"I'm not wasting your time," I say, soothing him. I twist the handle, opening the meeting room door to reveal the trio inside. Trevor follows on my heels. I wave him to take a seat and close the door behind us.
Trevor surveys the mostly empty space. Unable to see my grandfather or Molly, his eyes land on H. "Your cat? You drug me across the college grounds to see your cat? Is this some kind of a joke?"
"No, there is something else I need you to show you. I'll explain, but it is better if you see for yourself first." I turn to the other end of the room and give my grandfather a grim smile. "Grandfather, I know we planned for Edward to tell Trevor about the magic of Oxford, but the situation has changed. We need to tell him now, and I need your help. Can you and Molly please reveal yourselves to Trevor?"
Trevor sucks in air, my only clue that they have done as I asked. Since they always look and feel solid to me, I can't tell any difference.
I take a deep breath, closing my eyes to centre myself, and then launch into the truth, releasing a torrent of words.
"This is my grandfather, Alfred Payne, and the woman is Molly, a laundress from the 17th century. They are ghosts, Trevor — or Eternals, as we call them. I am a prefect, tasked with responsibility for protecting the magic of Oxford."
Trevor blinks, caught completely off guard. "The what?"
"Oxford has magic. It is as real as you and I are. It dates back centuries, discovered right here at Somerset by none other than John Wilkins and Sir Christopher Wren. There are Eternals — ghosts and creatures. They walk the halls unseen, lending a helping hand to all who enter the college walls."
"Is this some kind of movie magic? Wilkins and Wren? Ghosts?" Trevor scoffs. "More like holograms. Are you having a right laugh, Nat? I'm not impressed."
"This is no prank, Trevor. I'm trying to tell you the truth. Magic exists, and in fact, it is at risk of disappearing. Edward was planning to tell you today."
"Edward?" Trevor barks. "You've conned Edward into believing this madness? About ghosts and goblins?" He halts, shaking with a sudden realisation. When he speaks again, his voice is low. "Does Mathilde know about this? Is this why you two were asking me about ghosts and time travel the day I came for the tour?"
I freeze, inadvertently giving away the truth.
"You, Mathilde, Edward, and even Kate… all of you? Did you dream up this farce as repayment for me locking Francie up? Was my date last night all part of the act?" Trevor motions at my grandfather and Molly. "And this? Some kind of special effect you brought in, to add credence to your ridiculous tale?"
I tug at my hair. "There is no equipment in this room, Trevor. Look around you! You're being purposefully obtuse. There's no great revenge plot going on."
Trevor fights the urge, but eventually gives in, scanning the walls looking for a projector. The only one in sight dangles from the ceiling, its fan and lights off.
I grit my teeth, wondering what else I can do to show him. My gaze lands on H.
"If you won't accept the ghosts, perhaps seeing one of the creatures will convince you this is real."
H glides across the table, his spiked tail twitching angrily. He stops exactly halfway between myself and Trevor, within an easy arm's reach of us both.
"Please, Trevor. Trust me," I plead, my voice dripping with sincerity. "Take my hand and I will show you." I hold out my right hand, beckoning him to take it. He looks wary, but something in my expression must get through to him. He rests his hand in mine.
I act fast, before he can change his mind, reaching with my other hand to grasp the end of H's tail. In turn, H reaches out a paw and places in on Trevor's other arm. Trevor jerks in surprise as the current of energy races across our arms, giving him the ability to see H for what he truly is — a wyvern.
Trevor tugs his hands back, checking to make sure they are uninjured, before lifting his gaze back to me and H.
H flaps his wings, barely lifting off the table, and then shoots a carefully controlled jet of flames in Trevor's direction. Trevor's arms windmill backwards as he throws himself out of harm's way. He lands on his hands and knees on the far side of the table.
Wide-eyed, he stares at H in utter horror.
Undeterred, H matches his glare with one of his own, his vivid yellow cat eyes sparkling in fury. "Lor luv a duck, mate. Use yer loaf. Tha missie 'ere isn't telling tall tales. Magic is real, and we need yer 'elp."
H's words have the opposite effect of what he intended. Trevor backs up until his feet hit the wall and then cautiously, slowly creeps up to standing, never taking his eyes off H.
H swoops over, landing beside me, his tail wrapped protectively over my arm. My grandfather and Molly shift slightly, preparing themselves for whatever comes next.
His breathing ragged, Trevor glances wildly around the room, his mind fighting tooth and nail to hold onto any rationale explanation for
what sits before him. We wait for him to calm down, to see reason and to accept the truth.
Unfortunately for all of us, he chooses the opposite. With no warning, he flings himself towards the door, banging it open and sprinting out of sight.
❖
"That did not go well," I blurt in shock, stating the obvious.
Seeing how upset I am, my grandfather's expression softens and Molly slides from her chair, moving to sit at my side. She rubs my back, murmuring, "There, there, dear. It will work itself out somehow."
My grandfather echoes her words, but I can tell he does so half-heartedly. There is a chasm between where Trevor stands and him accepting the existence of the magic. A chasm which I inadvertently opened up when I revealed H's true identity.
H nuzzles my hand as I choke back tears provoked by the rush of emotions crashing over me.
"I better call Edward and warn him." My hand shakes as I pull my mobile from my handbag and search up his contact. The call fails to connect. Instead of Edward's voice, I'm greeted with an automated message telling me the person is out of reach. I hang up and try again, but don't have any better luck.
"Send 'em a text," H suggests, tapping a talon against the phone case.
I dash off a cryptic note, not knowing how to put everything that has happened into a simple text. "Urgent. Find Trevor today. You have to speak with him."
"What do I do now?" I look around the room, hoping for a flash of inspiration.
My grandfather braces his hands on the armrests of his chair, leaning back and sighing. "We do what we can, Nat. And in your case, that means returning to our tasks for the day. We have a lot to accomplish, not the least of which is asking Molly here for her help."
Intellectually, I know my grandfather doesn't mean to sound harsh, but the words lash about my shoulders, flogging me for my gross misstep. I gulp audibly.
Molly pats my back. "Let me get you a cup of tea. Your coffee has grown cold. Then you can tell me what you need. If it is within my abilities, I will make whatever it is happen."
Molly's cup of tea and ready agreement lift my spirits as well as anything can. I force all thoughts of Trevor out of my head.
I get through the day by focusing on one step at a time, moving around the college grounds. Do this task. Then do the next. Don't think. My mobile is silent. No messages or updates. But also, no angry voices on the line. I choose to view the quiet as a positive. Surely if Edward's talk with Trevor went worse than mine, Edward would get in touch. He knows I'm not filming today.
If I'm quiet and introspective, no one else seems to notice. The cast and crew are too busy, desperate to get their scenes in the can before they lose the light. Will and Jill stop by, abuzz with their plans for the wrap party. They are so caught up in showing me the menu, the decorations, and the musical options, they fill in all my gaps of silence.
I trudge home at the end of the day, shoulders slumped and gaze downcast. By now, H has abandoned all efforts to cheer me up. When we reach home, he flies off, going straight to his garden house and leaving me to face Edward alone.
Inside, Edward's bass tones trickle out from the kitchen, singing under his breath as he prepares dinner. His off-key notes warm my heart, giving me hope that perhaps all is fine. Surely the man wouldn't sing if the world was falling down around our ears. I hasten to drop my bag and shoes at the door.
"Hiya Nat!" he calls from the back of the house. "How was your day? I think your phone is off, Mathilde's been trying to get in touch with you."
I spin around and retrace my steps. My phone is in the depths of my bag, the battery dead.
"Battery drained out," I explain, holding up my phone as I head to the charging station on the kitchen counter. "Did she say what she wanted?"
Edward grabs me for a quick kiss. "No, but I didn't talk to her. She sent a text and I told her you'd be home soon enough."
My phone screen lights up with the dead battery symbol. As much as I want to ring Mathilde, I'll need to wait a few minutes for the battery to reach a minimum charge.
"Did you manage to catch Trevor today?" My voice cracks awkwardly as I ask the question.
Edward, unaware of my stress levels, continues stirring a steaming pot. "Hmm? I went by the station, but they said he was out. I left a message there and another on his phone."
I must make a whimper because Edward drops the spoon, looking at me with worry. "Is everything okay, Nat? If it's about Trevor, I wouldn't worry too much. He might have been in court today. I'll catch him tomorrow, for sure."
"I caught him today," I whisper.
"What? You seem upset. What happened?"
The doorbell rings, preventing me from answering. I push off the cabinet and quick step to the door. When I open it, I find Mathilde standing on my doorstep, tear tracks traced across her cheeks.
I reach out an arm to pull her inside, but she pushes past me, striding to my sofa. Edward steps out of the dining room in time to see her collapse onto the seat.
"What have you done, Nat?" she chokes out. "Trevor showed up at my flat. He was livid, full of accusations. He accused me of being part of some master plot to make a fool of him. He said you'd confessed it all."
"Eh?" Edward walks up behind me, offering moral support. "What's this?"
Any other time I'd appreciate him standing behind me, no questions asked. But not tonight. I rock in place, rubbing my arms. Edward moves around the room to face me.
"I didn't mean for it to happen, certainly not the way that it did. Trevor showed up on set and was annoyed with me for investigating on my own. I tried to tell him something bigger was at stake… he demanded to know what. I told him about the magic of Oxford."
Mathilde gasps, fresh tears tumbling down her face. Edward goes still, almost as though he is a hunter facing a particularly dangerous animal. He slides carefully over to one of the armchairs and sits, without ever taking his eyes off mine.
"Start from the beginning, Nat," he instructs me, his tone gentle. He makes it seem less like a command and more like a way out of whatever trouble I've gotten myself into.
I slump into the other chair and recount again everything that happened. Joyce's concern, Caleb's secret mission to shower. That, at least, earns an involuntary snort from Mathilde.
My cadence grows faster the closer I get to the moment of truth. I blurt the last bit out in a torrent of words, letting them trail off at the end. A hush falls over the room.
Edward glances left and right, his gaze darting from me to Mathilde. It's obvious that Trevor made his way to her next.
"That explains a lot of the holes in what he told me," Mathilde finally says. "He said he'd been wandering around for hours, waiting for me to get home. That poor man…"
"I'm so sorry, Mathilde. Believe me, hurting either of you was never my intention. If I could go back in time, brush Joyce off when she first approached me… I would. In a heartbeat, I'd do it."
"I know you would, Nat, but the damage is done." Mathilde sniffles, twisting a tissue round and round her fingers. "We had a great date last night, you know? We started with drinks and then dinner. We talked until they closed the restaurant. Neither of us wanted to go home at that point, so we went for a walk and ended up sitting in South Park, talking late into the night."
"That's great," I give Mathilde a soft, hopeful smile, my eyes crinkling.
She gives a tiny shake of her head. "It should be… but when you confronted him, forcing him to see the magic…"
She pushes up from the sofa, gathering her bag. She turns back before she reaches the front door. "We talked for hours, but I never once mentioned anything about the magic. It makes everything else I said last night look suspect. I don't know where we might have ended up, but from the anger and disappointment in his face when he walked away from me tonight… I don't think I'll ever find out what might have been."
"Mathilde, wait!" I call out, scrambling to my feet, but she walks out the front door without another look back.
&nb
sp; Edward still sits in his chair in the front room. I stand before him, my arms at my side.
Finally, after what seems like hours but is probably mere seconds, he wipes his hand over his mouth and frowns. "What an utter mess, Nat. I know you didn't mean for it to turn out this way, and that you thought you were doing the right thing…"
I blink furiously, fighting tears of my own. He rises and crosses the room, coming to a stop at my side. He squeezes my arm gently. "I'll find Trevor tomorrow. If there is a way to repair the damage, I swear I will find it."
"I can help," I whisper.
Edward kisses my forehead, lingering for a moment. "I know you can, but right now, Trevor needs to see someone else. You can still do your part — find Wilkins and Wren and figure out a way to stop Hobbes."
Chapter Twelve
I toss and turn throughout the night. There is no respite in my dreams, each one more nightmarish than the previous. When a pale stream of sunlight peeks out from behind the curtains, I drag my body from underneath the bedcovers. The mirror reveals deep bags beneath my eyes, and their normal spark is dimmed.
How did the situation with Trevor spiral out of control so quickly? My reflection has no answers. I glare at the mirror, unwilling to accept there is nothing I can do to fix the damage I caused between Trevor and Mathilde. Trevor will come around. He has to!
Needing to clear my head, I pull a set of running clothes from my drawer, taking care not to wake Edward. He mumbles in his sleep before rolling over and dozing off again. I move into the guest bedroom to get dressed and tiptoe downstairs in search of my running shoes. I leave a short note on the coffeemaker, letting Edward know where I have gone, and then I let myself out the front door.
The weather seems to have aligned with my troubles. The sky is grey, and the air is heavy with moisture. Patches of fog float along the street, giving the sense that the sky is falling.
This deep in the neighbourhood, the streets are empty. No cars or bicycles pass along them so early in the morning. I am isolated from everyone and everything. Even the curtains are closed in every house I pass.
Sabotage at Somerset: A charmingly fun paranormal cozy mystery (Oxford Key Mysteries Book 4) Page 17