Buried Magic

by TJ Green

  “I’m not sure we need to. We already know who the Favershams are and that they testified against Helena. I’m not sure any more details will help.” She took a sip of her beer. “What we need to do is work out how to protect ourselves against Faversham.”

  “But the more we know,” Alex argued, “the better prepared we’d be. There might be a useful nugget of information about the trials that could unlock everything for us.”

  “And we might get arrested and learn nothing.”

  “We’re witches, Ave. Stop thinking so laterally. We can spell ourselves into shadows, disarm alarm systems, and sneak in.” He tapped his head. “Think!”

  “Alex! I don’t do magic to get sneaky stuff done.”

  “We don’t normally fight demons and make devil’s traps, either. Times change.”

  They were interrupted by the arrival of the waitress with their lunch. Avery had opted for seafood chowder, and Alex had steak and chips. Once she’d gone, Alex continued.

  “We have to be the aggressor here, or we’ll be trampled on. We need to up our game. I don’t like being on the back foot.” He took a large mouthful of steak.

  Avery’s stomach grumbled and she took a sip of the chowder as she thought about Alex’s proposition. “I guess it won’t hurt to look. And I suppose that also explains why there’s no mention of Faversham in Anne’s stuff.”

  Alex nodded and pointed with his fork. “Correct. And there may be more old families Samuel didn’t think to mention, including the Newtons. I’d rather look myself and know for certain.”

  “I wonder if our Newton knew about this?”

  “Maybe not. If we know so very little of our own history, why would he?”

  As Avery looked up, she saw a man approaching them from across the beer garden and her throat tightened. “Alex. Caspian Faversham is here, and he’s heading this way.”

  “What?”

  Alex spun around on his seat, simultaneously pushing his plate away. They both stood as Caspian made his way through the tables and arrived next to them. He looked at Alex, assessing him. They were matched in height, but Alex was broader in build. Caspian was dressed in a shirt and smart jeans and looked like he was about to visit a country club; Alex was dressed in an old t-shirt and faded jeans, and his long hair was loose. They were like chalk and cheese.

  Caspian gave a thin-lipped smile and acknowledged Avery with a dismissive glance. “Mr Bonneville. Why don’t we sit?” he said in his irritating, condescending tone.

  “Because I don’t want to,” Alex said. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  “Now, now,” Caspian began, looking around as heads turned towards them. “Let’s not cause a scene.”

  He sat on the bench next to Avery so he could face Alex, and Avery edged to the far end of the bench to get some distance between them.

  Alex grimaced, but finally sat down. “I know what you want, and the answer is no,” he said, cutting through the niceties.

  “I see. Have you thought through the consequences?” Caspian watched him, his hands resting together on the table.

  “Whatever the consequences are, it’s still no.”

  “So, you don’t care that your friends, or you, may die when I come to take your grimoire?”

  “What makes you think you’re stronger than us?” Alex asked, his eyes hard.

  “I know I am. I have been practising my magic for years. You have simply played with yours.”

  Alex smiled. “Sticks and stones, Caspian. Those grimoires are ours, left to us by our families. You have no right to them. Besides, if your magic is so superior, what do you need our grimoires for?”

  “Let’s just say we are owed them, but were cheated out of them many years ago.”

  “Bullshit,” Alex said. He paused, watching Caspian’s face. “You know what? I think all this talk about the Witchfinder General is a cover for why the grimoires were really hidden. Our ancestors were hiding them from your family, and you’ve been waiting and watching. Well, you can keep on waiting. We’re on to you, Faversham. Now piss off, and go tell your daddy there’s no deal.”

  Caspian jerked back as if he’d been slapped. “Your family has always been stupid.” He turned to Avery, “As has yours. You have no idea what you’re messing with.”

  Avery once again felt the wind whip around her. “Maybe not, Caspian, but we’ll find out. And when we do, we’ll come looking for you.”

  Caspian stood up and looked at them both with disdain, but also with something else. Was there a flash of fear in his expression? “Another time, then,” he said, before he turned his back and left them.

  Avery took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’d love to know how he keeps finding us.”

  “Probably a simple finding spell,” Alex guessed. He grinned. “I think we successfully pissed him off. Although, he has interrupted a perfectly good lunch.”

  “What made you say that the Witchfinder General is a cover?” Avery asked, remembering what he’d said to Caspian. “We’ve never discussed that before.”

  “Just a feeling I have. It popped into my mind while I was looking at his smug, arrogant face. I’m right, though—I’d put money on it.”

  An idea started to form in Avery’s mind, but before she could say anything else, Alex’s phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

  “It’s Gil,” he said, and quickly answered it, leaving Avery worried something else may have happened while they’d been away. “Hey Gil,” he said, “what’s up?” Avery watched him as he nodded, and grunted, “Yes, no, really?” He looked at Avery, eyebrows raised. “Yep, we’ll head back now.” He put his phone down and said, “Eat up. They think they know where his grimoire may be. They want our help. And we need to change clothing.”

  Avery paused, a chunk of bread halfway to her mouth. “Are you kidding?”

  “Nope.” He winked. “We’ll put off our visit to the archives for another time.”

  ***

  Avery and Alex turned off the road and onto a long drive that wound through tall trees and dense bushes, until the drive ended in a broad sweep in front of a sprawling manor house. It had originally been built in the 14th century, but had been added to over the years so it featured a variety of styles. Avery loved it. It was old and welcoming, made of mellow stone with mullioned windows.

  The grounds were extensive; a mixture of lawns, gardens, and woodland, and the garden directly behind the house descended in a series of terraces down to the sea, where they ended at a steep cliff. A large section of grounds at the front of the house were accessed by a different driveway, and housed Gil’s plant nurseries that were open to the public.

  Avery parked at the side of the drive and they headed around the back of the house and down to the glasshouse where Gil and Reuben were waiting for them. El was there as well, but there was no sign of Briar. All three of them were dressed in boots, jeans, and hooded tops. They carried backpacks, lanterns, and torches.

  The glasshouse behind them was huge. It had a brick base with high, arched windows and a glass roof housed in cast iron above it. It was beautiful.

  “What’s going on?” Avery asked.

  “We’re heading into the tunnel beneath the glasshouse, that’s what’s going on,” Gil said, running his hand though his hair.

  “There’s a tunnel beneath the greenhouse?” Alex asked, squinting at it.

  “Glasshouse,” Gil corrected. “And yes, a smuggling tunnel. Our family has a dubious history, and access to the beach.”

  “You’d always known about the tunnel?” Alex asked.

  Reuben answered, “We knew about the cellars and the tunnel that ran to the ice house, and we think there’s a tunnel that runs to Old Haven Church, but we didn’t know about this tunnel!”

  Avery started to feel excited. “Why? Where does it go?”

  “Over there,” Gil said, pointing to the small island that sat off the coast.

  “Are you serious?” Images of dark, dank passages fille
d her brain. And of course there was the risk of drowning, which at this point overshadowed the fear of attack by demons.

  “And how did you find it?” Alex asked, equally amazed by the look on his face.

  “It’s a long story involving family archives, Anne’s notes, and our existing grimoire. And luck. We found the entrance just before we phoned you, but thought the more the merrier.”

  “Probably a good idea,” Alex said, and he described their latest encounter with Caspian. “We need to look into something that can protect us from his unexpected visits—something that will block us from his search spells.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Reuben said. “I have an idea, if you’re open to having a tattoo.”

  Alex shrugged. “I like ink. But why?”

  “I’m working on a design for a tattoo that will protect us from prying eyes—including demons. I think we should try it.”

  “Well, I’ve never had a tattoo, but I’ll try anything to keep Faversham away,” Avery said, thinking that it was great that Reuben was getting more involved. “So, what’s going on with you and magic, Reuben? Are you in, or out?”

  He shrugged. “It complicates my life, and I don’t like complicated. I like ink, the wind, and the surf. But I also don’t like being attacked. So, for now, I’m in.”

  Avery nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “What’s the plan this afternoon?” Alex asked.

  “We’ve found the entrance, we’re pretty sure we know where it goes, so we’re going to check it out. And that’s the plan,” Gil explained.

  “Simple. I like it. It’s vague on the finer points, but hell, we were planning to break into some archives before you phoned.”

  El looked at them both. “Okay, sounds like you have more to catch us up on. In the meantime, let’s head to the tunnels. Briar can’t make it, and I’ve bunked off work. Let’s go.”

  They followed Gil into the glasshouse. Long benches ran along both sides and down the centre. Tender plants jostled with seedlings and tomato plants, and the smell was rich and pungent. Gil led them down to the far end where there was a hatch in the ground, and he headed down into the darkness, his torch flickering to life.

  “Why is there a tunnel under here?” Avery asked, feeling more and more baffled. She pulled her torch free as she spoke, preparing to follow the others.

  El jumped in to explain. “It seems there’s a heating system for the glasshouse, from way back. Pipes, a furnace, water. Very sophisticated. There would have been an outside entrance at some point, but it was bricked up and the chimney removed. And there’s a hidden doorway. Well—not hidden anymore!”

  At the bottom of the steps there was a room stretching the length of the glasshouse. It had a brick-lined floor and a low ceiling, the cast iron pipes clearly visible above them.

  Gil spoke from the shadows. “This glasshouse fell into disrepair before World War I. The structure completely collapsed, and it was overgrown. It wasn’t until the Second World War that it was repaired—you know, to support the war effort. I think that’s why my crazy uncle never found it. We came down here as a last resort, really. ”

  “I’d almost forgotten about him,” Avery said. “How does he tie in with the Favershams?”

  “No idea. He may not be linked at all.”

  Gil turned and led the way to the wall where an old furnace sat. To its left was a long row of shelves, now deconstructed and stacked on the floor. Wooden panels lined the wall behind the shelves with numerous hooks attached, but within the panels a door-shaped black space loomed.

  “Voila!” Gil exclaimed, looking pleased.

  Alex laughed. “Wow. How did you find that?”

  “By a systematic poking and prodding of panels and pulling of hooks.”

  “Yeah, right,” Reuben said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It was so random.”

  “Cheers, Reu,” Gil murmured. “And now, onward we go.”

  Gil set off with an enthusiastic march, and the others followed him into the passage beyond. Avery shivered. It was cold, damp, and musty, and she wrapped her hoodie more firmly around her as they headed further along the passage.

  Their torches illuminated the brick floor and walls, which curved in an arch overhead, but as they went deeper the tunnel changed into bare earth and rock, the surfaces rough and unfinished. Water dripped from overhead, and the air smelt stale.

  “It must have been years since anyone walked down here,” Avery mused, carefully watching her step.

  “Probably close to a hundred at least,” Reuben called back.

  The ground sloped downwards, following the gradient of the hill towards the shore, and then it quickly got steeper, with rudimentary steps carved out of the earth. Every now and again they passed brackets for torches on the walls, but the torches were long gone. Eventually they emerged into a larger space, where the remnants of broken and rotting crates were on the ground.

  “Are we all okay to carry on?” Gil asked.

  “May as well,” Alex said. He looked around with interest. “Is this a smuggling cave?”

  “Maybe. This could be where they stored some stuff.”

  Alex laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t have taken your family for smugglers, Gil, but I guess you had to get your money from somewhere!”

  “Sod off!” Gil said, annoyed. “We were doing people a favour.”

  “I’m kidding!” Alex said, rolling his eyes. “You know, you were probably stealing from the Favershams, and anything that upsets them is fine with me. I don’t know them and I hate them.”

  “Why the Favershams?” Gil called back.

  “Because they were a trading company.”

  “Good, I hope we really annoyed them,” Reuben put in.

  They pressed on, and the passage became wider and higher. Every so often a small clump of earth appeared on the ground as if there’d been a slip, but in general the passage looked in good condition.

  “How long does this go on for?” El asked.

  “Until we get to the island, I guess,” Reuben said. “It’s half a mile off shore.”

  They were now a long way from the entrance, and deep underground. Water streamed down the wall in places and it was muddy underfoot. The passageway started to rise again, and then opened out, and they stumbled into a large cave.

  The group let out a collective sigh of wonder. The cave was full of wooden crates.

  “Excellent! This could be it!” Gil said, as he headed to the nearest crate and lit his lantern.

  “It’s going to take ages,” Reuben grumbled. He flashed his torch around and up, revealing a high, rocky ceiling. “I think we must be under the island now, so there has to be an exit here somewhere. In fact,” he stood and listened for a moment, “I can hear the sea.”

  He was right. Avery could also hear the soft shush of the waves, and the occasional louder crash as waves hit rocks. “I’ll help you find the entrance, Reu, while the others search the crates.”

  “Sure,” he nodded, and they headed off to the far side of the cave, leaving the others to discuss spells to help reveal the crate.

  “What if it’s not here?” Avery asked Reuben, as she played her torch along the cave wall.

  He shrugged. “We keep on searching.”

  Avery caught sight of sand on the ground and headed towards it. “Reuben, it must be over here.” She saw an exit behind a jutting wall of rock leading into another passageway, a light trail of sand snaking down the centre. Avery grinned. “Shall we?”

  “After you,” he said.

  The further they travelled, the thicker the sand became, and the louder the sound of the surf. And then they came to a dead end.

  “It must be a hidden door,” Reuben said. “After all, you don’t want everyone finding a smuggler’s cave.”

  “I guess not. Do you think it’s sealed with magic?”

  “I doubt it. Not all smugglers would have been witches.”

  They started to feel around the wall and the f
loor, looking for a hidden catch or mechanism, until Reuben shouted, “Got it.”

  He had reached his hand into a natural crack in the rock about halfway down the wall. Avery heard a click, and the wall in front of them opened a fraction down the right side. She pushed it open cautiously, but it was stiff from lack of use, and she pushed against it with her shoulders until it creaked open.

  Beyond the door was a pale light and Avery stepped onto soft sand, Reuben close behind her. They were in another cave. This one was long with a low roof and the ground was covered with soft white sand; up ahead was a slight break in the rock where a pale light filtered in.

  They made their way cautiously to the gap and peered through into another cave that opened up to the sea. It was empty, and there was no one in sight. The entrance to the cave was covered in brambles, bushes, and stunted trees, but beyond the greenery they could see the blue-grey sparkle of water.

  “We’re on the far side of Gull Island,” Reuben said. “If I remember correctly, there’s a huge hill of rock above us. It would hide any ships docked out there.”

  They peered through the branches onto the shore beyond. It was a mix of rock and sand, and sharper rocks broke through the surface of the sea. “They’d have to bring a small boat through those. It would be tricky to navigate,” Reuben observed.

  Avery turned towards the back of the cave. From where she stood, the narrow entrance to the cave beyond was completely hidden by the curve of the rock wall. She nodded. “Very cool. I wonder if anyone else knows about this place?”

  “Not anymore, I’d imagine,” Reuben mused, shaking his head. “From the sea, you wouldn’t be able to see this cave.” He slipped through the tangle of branches until he could stand on the shore, and he looked up. “It’s so steep above us, no one could clamber down. Not unless they had climbing equipment.”

  Avery joined him, trying to not get scratched, and looking up realised he was right. “They chose this place well. I wonder how they ever discovered it?”

  “I guess we’ll never know.” Reuben looked at the sea and the small cove. “I bet this place would be pretty inaccessible on stormy nights.”

  For a few seconds, Avery tried to imagine what it would have been like centuries before, with ships anchoring off the coast and trying to bring their goods ashore under the cover of darkness. She shivered. A lot of people died smuggling, and she doubted it would have been any different here.