Buried Magic

by TJ Green

  Buried Magic

  Mountolive Publishing

  Copyright © 2018 TJ Green

  All rights reserved

  ISBN 978-0-9951313-3-0

  Cover Design by Fiona Jayde Media

  Editing by Missed Period Editing

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  To My Mother - Thank You

  Other Titles by TJ Green

  Tom’s Arthurian Legacy Series

  Excalibur Rises - Short Story Prequel

  Tom’s Inheritance

  Twice Born

  Galatine’s Curse

  Tom’s Arthurian Legacy Box Set

  White Haven Witches

  Magic Unbound

  Magic Unleashed

  All Hallows’ Magic

  Undying Magic

  Invite from the author -

  You can get two free short stories, Excalibur Rises and Jack’s Encounter, by subscribing to my newsletter. You will also receive free character sheets of all the main Whitehaven Witches.

  By staying on my mailing list you’ll receive free excerpts of my new books, as well as short stories, news of giveaways, and a chance to join my launch team. I’ll also be sharing information about other books in this genre you might enjoy.

  Details can be found at the end of Buried Magic.

  Contents

  Cast of Characters

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  Excerpt Magic Unbound

  Authors Note

  About the Author

  Cast of Characters

  Avery Hamilton - descended from Helena Marchmont

  Alex Bonneville - descended from Imogen Bonneville

  Gil Jackson - descended from Garrett Jackson

  Reuben Jackson - descended from Garrett Jackson

  Elspeth Robinson - descended from Rowena Kershaw

  Briar Ashworth - descended from Raleigh Ashworth

  Mathias Newton - descended from Peter Newton

  Caspian Faversham - descended from Thaddeus Faversham

  Prologue

  We are witches, born from generations of witches, and our magic has been passed down through the centuries. But it seems we have more power than we ever thought possible.

  When things that were hidden come to light, an enemy is awakened. Our ancient grimoires were hidden for a reason; now we are in a race to find them first.

  1

  Avery always liked to read the tarot cards on a full moon, outside if the weather allowed, and today it did. It was mid-June and hot. The earth smelled rich, and the scent of lavender drifted towards her.

  She sat at her garden table. The brick-paved patio area was flooded with silvery light and the garden beyond was full of plants, lost in the shadows despite the full moon. The only things visible were the white roses that nodded from the depths of the borders, and the gravel paths that snaked around them.

  Earlier that day she had sensed a shift in the normal path of her life; a premonition that required further investigation. Out of long practice she sat calmly, shuffling the cards and then placing them out in the cross before her, turning them one by one. She shuddered. Change was coming, and with it, danger. The cards revealed it and she could feel it. And it would happen soon.

  Avery leaned back, perplexed, and then jumped slightly as she heard the click of the gate. Alex, another witch. She recognised his scent and sound. Her worry over the reading was replaced by curiosity.

  He stepped into view, his expression invisible with the moon behind him, casting her in shadow. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a lean, muscular build. It was like a wall had stepped between her and the moon.

  “What do you want, Alex?”

  “What a lovely greeting, Avery,” he said, his voice smooth. He pulled a chair out and sat opposite her, looking down at the cards. “So you sense it, too.”

  “Sense what?”

  “You know what.” He sounded impatient. “That something is coming. Don’t you think we should work together?”

  “No.”

  He leaned back, shifting slightly so that the moon lit his face, showing his day-old stubble and his long dark hair that fell just below his shoulders. His brown eyes looked black in the light. “This is ridiculous. You have no reason to distrust me.”

  She refused to be drawn. “I have no reason to trust you, either. You disappeared for years, and now you’re back. I have no idea who you even are anymore.”

  “I’m the same witch I always was. People travel, you know. That’s life!”

  Even now Alex could make her blood boil with his infuriating superiority. She wanted to throw something at him, like a lightning bolt. “Why are you here?”

  They stared at each other across the table, Avery only able to see a glint of moonlight in his eyes, until he said with forced patience, “There are five witches now in White Haven, five of us who wield the old magic. We should meet. Pool our resources. I can’t believe you haven’t already.”

  “We’ve had no need to form a coven, and I like working alone.” She inwardly chastised herself. Why did she have to sound so defensive? It was okay to work alone.

  “I’ve been talking to Elspeth. She’d like to form one.”

  Avery rolled her eyes. “Of course she would.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that! We can share ideas, share our strengths.”

  “We’re all witches! What do we need to share?”

  “Oh, let me see,” he said with a sigh. “El can work metal, brilliantly, metal and gems, in fact. Far better than any of us can. Have you seen what she’s been producing lately?”

  “No.”

  “You should. And of particular use for us, she can weave magic into an Athame, and other useful objects we use in our rituals.”

  “I can do that, too,” she said impatiently, “we all can. We’re witches.”

  “Not as good as she can,” he persisted. “And Briar is excellent at using herbs and healing. Better than all of us,” he said, cutting her off before she could protest. “Gil is particularly good at using water magic. And then there’s you.” He stopped and just looked at her, his expression unfathomable. He was making her uncomfortable.

  “What about me?” She was annoyed with him for being so very logical, and she felt the wind stirring around her as her annoyance increased.

  He laughed, the white of his teeth bright against his shadowed face. He looked around and the breeze made strands of his hair float around his face. “Am I making you cross? I’m sure you’re causing that wind.”

  She frowned and cut it off, the wind dying instantly.

  “Air. You manipulate it so easily. And new spells, your intuitiveness—those are your strengths.”

  She was so unnerved at his knowledge of her that she responded with sarcasm. “And what about you, Alex? What can you bring?”

  “My ability to scry, to prophecise, my astral abilities. And fire.” He glanced at the candle that sat on the side of the table, unlit, and it suddenly flared to life, the flame shooting a foot into the air before it settled down to a small, orange flame. The light illuminated his grin. “I burn hot, Avery. Nice on cold nights.”

  “How lovely,”
she said, trying to dispel the images that rushed into her head. She put the flame out as quickly as he had lit it, the smoke eddying between them.

  He leaned forward. “I’m calling a meeting. The others should know that we’ve sensed something. We need to be on our guard. My place, tonight at ten.” He stood, once again blocking the moon briefly before he headed to the gate, his gait long. “By the way, your defences on the house need strengthening. See you later, Avery.”

  Alex was 29, a year older than her, and they’d been to the same schools and shared the same powers, and yet he infuriated her. She watched him go, then looked up at the moon and wanted to scream, but the moon counselled silence, so she swept the cards up, shuffled, and dealt again.

  2

  Avery woke at dawn after a restless sleep, the barely-there light filtering through the blinds in the bedroom. She had been thinking more about Alex than the ominous reading, and that annoyed her more than anything. She hated the way he just slid into her mind and stayed there.

  By the time she got to work she felt irritable. Work was a bookshop called Happenstance Books, which she’d inherited from her grandmother, along with the building it was in. They stocked new and old books, fiction, non-fiction, and the esoteric—witchcraft, divination, angels, devils, and all things in between, as well as tarot cards, incense, greeting cards, postcards, and other occult-related objects. The shop was well placed, halfway up a small side street that wound up from the sea, and wedged between a coffee shop and a gift store selling local trinkets to tourists. It was stacked with high shelves that wound around the walls, as well as through the middle, making the interior a section of narrow passages. A selection of comfy chairs and a small sofa were placed in strategic locations to encourage reading and lingering, and it smelt pleasantly of old paper, coffee, and incense.

  Sally, her friend and the store manager, was already in their stock room at the rear of the shop, unpacking a box of old books Avery had brought a week ago in a house sale. She knew Avery was a witch, although she never called her one. It was inevitable she should know after their years of friendship, although Avery made out it was something far more wishy-washy than it really was and Sally indulged her accordingly.

  Sally looked up and smiled. “You’re early! Someone kick you out of bed?”

  “Funny! Bad night’s sleep. What about you?”

  “You know me, always an early bird. Coffee’s on if you want some.”

  “I don’t want some, I need some!” she said, heading to the small galley kitchen, inhaling the coffee fumes gratefully. She hesitated a moment and then called out, “Alex came to see me last night.”

  There was a moment of silence as the rustling of books stopped, and Sally came to the door, leaning against the frame. “I thought you didn’t get on?”

  “We don’t, sort of. But he sensed the same thing as me.” She looked at her, trying to decide what to say. In the end she just said it all. “I was reading the cards last night and I thought I saw something. Something dark. I have no idea what, but Alex saw it, too. He came to talk. At two in the morning!”

  “So he knew you’d be up,” Sally said, raising her eyebrows quizzically. “Have you two got some psychic link?”

  Avery shook her head, leaned back against the counter, and sipped her coffee. Sweet and strong, just as she liked it. She might just start to feel human soon. “No! At least I hope not. It’s very disconcerting.”

  Sally shuffled against the doorframe. “I like him, I don’t really get why you don’t. He’s honest, and runs a great pub! He’s got a fab chef at the moment. Have you been?”

  “No, not since he arrived.”

  “Are you sure nothing’s happened between you two?”

  Avery rolled her eyes. “No. Anyway, he wants to talk at his pub tonight. He’s calling a meeting with the others.” Sally would know exactly whom she meant by the others.

  “It’s probably a good idea,” Sally nodded. “There’s strength in numbers.”

  “Oh, don’t you start.”

  Sally grinned, raking her hand through her blonde hair. “I wouldn’t hesitate if Alex invited me over. He’s very good-looking.”

  “And he knows it. And besides, you’re married with two kids!”

  Sally married her childhood sweetheart when she was 20 years old, and within a couple of years they had their first child, swiftly followed by a second. Avery had no idea how she managed the shop and her home life so efficiently.

  “I meant, if I was single!” Sally changed tack, looking slightly worried. “So, is this serious, what you and Alex saw? You’ve never mentioned anything like this before.”

  Avery immediately regretted saying anything, and shook her head. “No, probably not. I’ve probably got a rival with a new bookstore opening. I’m sure it will be fine. It was just sort of spooky, Alex turning up when he did, and I’ve probably read more into it than I should have. Anyway, anything good in that box?”

  Sally headed back to the store room, Avery trailing after her, and pulled a book out of the box she’d been unpacking. “Old editions of the classics, but nothing riveting. Not yet, anyway. I’ve got to do another house visit later. Unless you want to? One of us has to update our inventory.” She had a smirk on her face, knowing Avery hated doing the inventory.

  Avery smiled sweetly, “I’d love to pick up those boxes! Thanks Sally. Where am I going?”

  “Do you remember that little old lady who used to come in here sometimes? Anne? She was a bit of a local historian.”

  “Yeah, I think so.” Avery kept it light, but she did remember her. People poking about in the town’s history always made her worried. She didn’t want them to turn up anything she’d rather keep hidden. She’d been polite to Anne, but had otherwise tried to keep her distance.

  “Well, she died the other week, and she’s left us some books.”

  “Oh,” Avery suddenly felt bad and also slightly relieved. “I’m sorry to hear that. Sure, I’ll go. Who arranged it?”

  “Her son, Paul. I haven’t met him, he just phoned. I arranged to pick up mid-morning, at her house. Are you all right, Avery? You look a bit odd.”

  The feeling of unease had rushed back like an incoming tide and Avery felt dizzy. “No, I’m fine, bad night’s sleep, remember? Need more coffee.” She headed back to the kitchen, trying to subdue her worry.

  ***

  Avery pulled up outside a large, old house that sat on a rise overlooking the sea on the edge of the town. The second she saw it she felt a shudder pass through her. Something had alerted her witchy senses, something magical. It was only a trace, but it was there.

  She looked at the house thoughtfully. Anne hadn’t presented any inkling of magic, so why could she sense something here? And what of her son, Paul? They certainly weren’t related to the other four witches in the town, and she was pretty sure there weren’t any others. Was this a trap? But surely if he’d been a witch he’d have tried to disguise the wisps of magic she could sense.

  The house was built from the mellow, creamy stone that many houses in the area were built from, and that also made up the old boundaries snaking across fields and along roadsides. It sat down a drive that was overgrown with bushes and trees. The paving was cracked, the paint on the door and window frames was peeling off, and the whole place looked like it needed a complete overhaul. At one point, this house would have been one of the most coveted houses in White Haven, and probably would be again after a ton of money had been thrown at it. She looked down the lane. All of the other houses here were in much better condition. She bet the neighbours were looking forward to the renovation. But was something hiding behind that cracked facade?

  She sat for a few minutes, watching the house and trying to detect if there was a threat, but other than the whiff of magic, she sensed nothing.

  Avery looked in the rear view mirror and checked her appearance. Her long, red hair was loose and relatively neat, and her pale green eyes had lost the tiredness from earlier in the da
y. Coffee was awesome. She touched up her makeup, grabbed her phone and checked there weren’t any messages, then exited her old green Bedford van, something else she’d inherited from her gran, locking it behind her. She smoothed her long, dark blue maxi dress, keen to make a good impression.

  As she walked up the drive, she scanned around the garden, but noted nothing unusual until she came to the front door where a vigorous pot of thyme and one of sage was placed either side of the door. Common plants, but they also offered protection. And on the corner of the doorframe she saw a small mark. Another symbol of protection. This was getting weirder. She rang the doorbell and waited for a few seconds, flexing her fingers in case she needed to defend herself, before finally hearing footsteps approaching. The door swung open to reveal a harried-looking man who appeared to be in his sixties. He looked at her, confused.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Avery, from Happenstance Books. You must be Paul? You asked me to collect your mother’s books—Anne Somersby? Is this a good time?” She smiled encouragingly.

  “Oh, yes, sorry, of course. I’m a little distracted—I’m sorting through some paperwork. Come in, please.” He leaned forward and shook her hand. “Just follow me and I’ll show you the library.” He laughed, “Well, it’s not really a library, but it does have a lot of books.”

  Avery relaxed slightly. She didn’t detect anything magical or threatening from him. He walked ahead of her, leading her down the long hallway to a room at the back of the house, looking out onto extensive gardens.

  She paused at the window, “Wow, what a beautiful garden.”

  He laughed, “It was a beautiful garden. Now it’s a mess.”

  She laughed, too. “Well, you know what I mean. It will be again.” She looked around the room she was in, “And this is amazing, too!”

  “You’re a book lover. I just see more stuff I have to move. But yes. It is.”

  The ceilings were high, and the room was lined with heavy oak shelves filled with books. The small amount of exposed bare wall was panelled with the same dark oak. And the magical something was here—Avery could sense it more strongly now. She tried to contain her excitement, schooling her face carefully. “Did Anne leave me all of these?”