Eternity's Invitation: Book 2 of Ghostly Travels

by Natasja Rose

  He smirked and obliged. “We were discussing if the fact that only girls have been taken this time was relevant or co-incidence.”

  Joshua shrugged. “Inhuman beauty and entrancement are part of the Fae mythos. There have been a few hotspots I’ve been to that I could tell stories about.”

  Tina smirked. “Remind me to tell you about what I saw at Stonehenge one time.”

  Rachel giggled, but looked thoughtful. “That would explain why I was chosen instead of another female agent. She can narrow down her summoning to cause of death, but she’s also very much a free spirit when it comes to sexuality. Which is cool, but I guess they didn’t want to take chances.”

  Thomas raised an eyebrow. “There were a few records - like, long, long ago records - of fertility spirits. Might that be a factor?”

  Joshua shrugged. “Maybe. A few hotspots involving fertility gods required a long, icy shower after, for everyone involved who was interested in the opposite sex.”

  Christopher considered the implications. “So Pan Demi, Ace and same-sex should be fine. That’s got us covered, as long as no-one lied on their entry interrogation.”

  Tina blinked. “They actually record your sexual orientation in your files?”

  Valerie shrugged. “Just in case it limits what missions you can go on. You understand if I don’t go into specifics.”

  Thomas grinned. “You know, one day I’d love to see a Bond movie where the female lead turns him down because he’s a guy. Pan and Demi include the opposite sex, though. Do you think that will be a problem?”

  Kayla shook her head. “Shouldn’t be. Pan is contents over packaging, Demi is emotional over physical. We should be fine.”

  Tina smirked. “And if one of us lunges for them, we can consider it an alarm.”

  Valerie threw a pillow at her.

  Sitting in the passenger seat and passing over the occasional bite of pancake because Valerie needed to keep her attention on the road was far less romantic than any of the scenarios that Tina had imagined herself in that involved Valerie and food.

  Not that she was about to admit that out loud.

  After swinging through a McDonalds drive-thru just out of Northampton for breakfast, giving up trying to eat in a car and pulling into a rest stop, Tina waited until they were back on the road before she explained her dream, sitting back and waiting for opinions. Kayla appeared thoughtful. “That certainly fits the description of fairies, at least the images seen in paintings of them. At least it confirms what we learned yesterday at St Andrews.”

  Thomas, currently in the front passenger seat and in charge of the GPS, sighed loudly. “Somehow, that does not make me feel better.”

  Spotting a sign for the A1 Motorway toward Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Valerie pulled over to the side of the road, letting Thomas take over driving and sliding into the seat next to Tina, who offered a sympathetic smile. “Honestly, I don’t know how I always get stuck behind or in front of drivers who treat speed limits like the ‘recommended serving’ suggestions on a extra-large pack of bacon.”

  As exhausted and fed-up of the consistent back-seat drivers as she was, Valerie couldn’t help but laugh at Tina’s statement. “You’re going to need to explain that one.”

  Tina shrugged, offering a small grin. “Either they ignore the speed limit entirely, or they err on the ridiculous side of extreme caution. Lizzy came up with it, and it’s always good for a laugh on long road trips.”

  With the way that Joshua and Kayla, who had been sniping at each other for the past four hours, were suddenly trying not to catch each others’ eye as they giggled, Valerie kind of had to agree.

  Thomas, who had taken over just in time for the number of cars to increase and the first traffic light in two hours, groaned. “Why do we have to travel so far, anyway?”

  Tina stared at him, then tried to put things into perspective. “Oh, right, I forgot you can drive anywhere within England in a day.”

  Valerie raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s your idea of an intolerable driving distance, then?”

  Tina considered, trying to decide the difference between unpleasant and ‘nope, shelling out for a plane’. Most drives weren’t so bad with company. “Thirteen hours from Sydney to Brisbane, or interstate unless its a road-trip or the ACT.”

  Despite their early start and it technically only being a five-and-a-half hour drive, GoogleMaps somehow never factored in things that might change the travel time. Traffic combined with breaks for restrooms, food, petrol or to switch drivers and stretch cramped limbs, which meant that they arrived at the Journeyman’s Rest somewhere around four in the afternoon.

  Lizzy was going over paperwork with her new in-laws when the ghost-hunting team staggered into the Inn. She looked up as they all slumped into chairs, eyes widening. James’s grandmother, whose name Tina kept forgetting, bustled over as James’s grandfather and Lizzy headed for the kitchen. “First round of drinks are on the house, dearies, and pie or stew will be ready the fastest, though you can order something else if you like.”

  Those who hadn’t met the old lady exchanged looks, clearly questioning if a person could be both this much of a stereotype and genuine. Tina smiled her thanks, ordering stew and a glass of red wine, then introducing the others as they looked at the menu. She didn’t usually drink, but the past few days called for something a lot stronger than soda, and stew was one of the things that Lizzy was fantastic at cooking. Kayla, the last to order, looked awkward, “Sorry to make a fuss, but do you have a vegetarian option?”

  James’s grandmother - Madge, that was her name! - actually patted her on the head. “Salad or vegetable soup, dearie, whichever you prefer.”

  The other blonde smiled and placed an order, before answering the unspoken question from the rest of the table. “I had to walk past an abattoir on the way to school for six years.” She shuddered delicately, “Haven’t been able to eat domestic meat since I was a First Year.”

  Tina had been trying to catch a glimpse of Lizzy in the kitchen, just to make sure there was no-one trying to possess her on top of everything else that had gone wrong today. Actually, she should probably try to make sure that the ghosts of the other people John and Bess had inhabited and killed weren’t lingering, when she had the chance. Turning back to the conversation, she shrugged, “What about game? Lizzy does a fantastic Floppy-in-the-Garden, or Gruff-in-the-Garden, depending on what ingredients she can get.”

  Christopher blinked in confusion. “I suspect I’ll regret asking, but what’s that?”

  James, coming in from outside with Ben and Will (who took one look at the guests and headed for the register to check the number of available rooms), laughed. “Vegetables with either rabbit or goat meat. She made up the name so that some of her co-workers would stop wailing about killing innocent bunny rabbits.”

  Lizzy, emerging with a tray of drinks, shrugged. “They’re classified as vermin back home. I consider it to be helping the ecosystem.”

  Tina sniggered, sipping her drink and hoping that it wouldn’t take too long to get buzzed. “You should have seen the theatrics when she told them that. Totally worth the embarrassment of forgetting my keys that morning.”

  Valerie sniggered, but became serious as she looked at the older Innkeepers. “We’ve run into supernatural complications, and Tina says that you’re quite knowledgeable about such things. What can you tell us about the Fae?”

  Chapter Ten

  To their credit, none of the people in the room looked surprised. Then again, the Dawson family had been running a haunted/cursed Inn for centuries, even if Bess and her Highwayman only re-enacted their story every thirty years. The younger generation had been intimately involved in dispelling said haunting. They were probably intimately familiar with the signs of people having supernatural-related problems.

  Madge abruptly stood and bustled into the kitchen, followed by James’s grandfather. Tina blinked at the sudden departure, out of character from what she knew of the old woman. Th
e clatter of plates provided an explanation, though Tina suspected that there was more behind it.

  Lizzy considered Valerie’s question as she set down the bowls she carried in front of the people who wanted stew, and Tina almost cooed at the familiar scent. “I remember that they are divided into the Seelie and Unseelie courts, basically benign and malicious. I tended to focus more on history than mythology, though, so I don’t know how much I can help you.”

  Madge emerged from the kitchen with pie, paler than before the Fae had been mentioned, her hands and voice shaking slightly. “That doesn’t mean that you should trust even the Seelie without reservation, though. All Fae have a reputation for amusing themselves at the expense of mortals, and can deceive without uttering a single untruth.”

  Lizzy held off setting down Thomas’s plate long enough for him to thump his head on the table. “Feel better?”

  Thomas scowled, rubbing his forehead. “No, but there’s nothing to be helped. Is there any way to tell the two sorts apart?”

  Lizzy glanced at the office, where her in-laws had retreated to put away the paperwork, clearly seeking backup. She had never been good at being put on the spot. “Some accounts suggest that their appearance can be an indication of their allegiance, with the Unseelie being ugly and twisted…”

  James finished her sentence, wrapping an arm around his wife to soothe her anxiety. “But other accounts say that both courts used glamours or shifted forms as easily as breathing. I started paying a lot more attention to legends after the Highwayman.”

  Tina winced at the reminder of the most terrifying days of her life, but Lizzy relaxed into her husband, squeezing his hand. Despite the horror of the incident itself, it was good that both couples had wound up with a happy ending, of sorts, and Tina reminded herself to talk to Lizzy properly before they returned to St Andrews.

  Tina’s friend caught her eye and smiled softly. “Iron and salt are supposed to be good deterrents, if that helps.”

  Madge bustled out of the kitchen again, “We have rooms available, if you were planning to stay the night. We’re expecting another Tour Group for an early dinner in a few hours, but they’ll be moving on to a bigger town and fancy hotel.”

  Valerie glanced at the clock, trying to ignore the quickly-hidden smiles from her team at the mild disapproval in the old lady’s tone. “Would you be able to sit down with us before the dinner crowd gets here? I’d like to pick your brains a bit more, if that’s acceptable to you?”

  Madge and James’s grandfather (who Tina really did need to learn to remember the name of) looked at each other, holding an entire conversation in seconds before they came to a wordless agreement and sat down. James and Lizzy brought out dinner for them, as well, before retreating to a corner with the paperwork they had been going through earlier.

  Tina leaned forward, gently touching Madge’s arm. “Are you all right?”

  Madge took a deep, calming breath, allowing her husband to answer for her. “Madge is the closest you’ll get to an expert on the Fae, without actually going beyond the veil. It wasn’t an easy experience for her, so I hope you’ll be respectful of what she is willing to share.”

  Though calm, there was an undercurrent of steel in the Innkeeper’s tone. In other words, ‘don’t press beyond what she is comfortable with, or I’ll toss you all out on your ear, national emergency be damned.’ Tina could respect that.

  The snowy-haired lady took another deep breath. “I’ve told no-one but Richard before now. I know of the Fae because I’ve encountered them before, and spent time in their court.”

  James stopped pretending not to listen in and blinked in surprise at his grandmother’s revelation. “You were a Changeling? I thought the Fair Folk were recorded as usually taking babies?”

  Madge waved a hand, “Usually, yes, because babies are expected to fuss, and the deception is less likely to be discovered. But it’s harder for them to slip in under guise as a stranger or midwife, these days. Children stopping at a park on the way home from school, or sneaking out with friends… those present a much easier target. I was visiting family in the country when it happened, and my parents sent me - or, the one borrowing my body, to St Andrews while I was Under the Hill.”

  Christopher was listening intently and taking notes, which was more than the others had thought of. “How did you return? That’s one of our big worries about making a plan.”

  Madge grimaced, rolling up a sleeve to reveal an old burn-mark. “There was a fire in my room at the hospital, one night. A commonly-used way of driving out a Changeling was to pass them over a fire. I suppose that the circumstances were close enough that the Changeling didn’t want to risk it. I was lucky, of course.”

  None of that story sounded particularly lucky to Tina, and Thomas clearly agreed. “How is any of that lucky?”

  Madge shuddered, while Richard glared and made to stand, and Lizzy gently intervened. “Time runs differently in the Otherworld. Most tales of people who vanish into Fairyland tell of decades or centuries passing in what seems to be a single night. Madge returned to find the world relatively unchanged, and her family and friends still alive.”

  The old woman patted her husband’s hand, easing the angry scowl. “It ended well enough, Richard. I’d not have met you, or been so prepared to believe the Inn’s history, otherwise.”

  Valerie appeared to be stifling a coo at the love that had certainly survived the test of time, to Tina’s subtle amusement. She cleared her throat and offered a quick summary of what they had discovered so far, including the most recent revelation that the abducted children had been gifted in almost exactly the same ways that Tina, Rachel and Joshua were.

  Joshua concluded the tale. “We need to stop whatever it is that’s happening, permanently. Anything you can tell us that you think will help…”

  There was a flash of determination, of old anger, in the old woman’s eyes. “The Fae might be powerful, but they are also quite hidebound. Throwing a - curveball, I think is the term - will keep them disoriented for a while.”

  Lizzy grinned wickedly from her position on the arm of James’s armchair, as the desk containing the paperwork was too small for two chairs. “I like curveballs.”

  James leaned up to kiss her on the cheek, tall enough that he didn’t need to stretch too far. “You are a curveball.”

  Lizzy beamed down at him, picking his words as the compliment that they were intended to be, and in that brief moment, Tina could see why Lizzy had uprooted her life to be with him.

  A pang tugged at her heart. Was that what love was? Not the grand acts of heroism or sacrifice from classic stories, but understanding and acceptance and the willingness to do anything to see them smile.

  Was that what she felt for Valerie? Tina wasn’t sure, but suspected that it might be.

  She yanked her thoughts back to the present problem as Madge frowned lightly. “My memory is not what it once way, I’m afraid. I’ll write down everything else I can think of tonight, and give it to you before you leave.”

  Valerie nodded her thanks. “I appreciate that this was not easy for you, and we can’t thank you enough. My superiors might approach you about occasionally consulting on similar cases, but you are free to turn them down, no matter what they imply.”

  Madge laughed. “I’ve dealt with ghosts, rowdy customers and all manner of Fair Folk. I’ve nothing to fear from a bunch of old men.”

  Tina couldn’t help but snigger. For all of the Innkeeper’s age and frail appearance, she had a core of iron, and the psychic had no doubt that the old woman was as good as her boast.

  Chapter Eleven

  The good thing about living in a historical tourism village was that most of the businesses revolved around that very thing. As well as the general things like post office, medical centre and general store, there were authentic blacksmiths, textile shops, traditionally-made sweet-shops and everything in between.

  No wonder Lizzy was settling in so well.

  Tina ma
de her way to the blacksmith, who would have been closed by now but for a personal request from the Innkeepers, dragging Thomas along with her. If iron had any effect on the Fae, this was probably their best chance to actually get something useful.

  Living and working in a tourist town meant that the blacksmith had a good supply of fancy things for enthusiastic tourists and more effective versions for re-enactors, as well as a good supply of nails, horseshoes, wire and other practical things.

  Tina’s initial impression of Thomas’s posh upbringing had apparently been more accurate than she knew, and had included learning the use of the rapier as a ‘gentleman’s weapon’. Tina could hear the quote marks in Thomas’s voice as he reluctantly admitted it. The addition of carbon would make steel less effective than iron, but stab-wounds didn’t change much depending on what metal you used.

  The agents all knew how to handle a gun, and lead bullets took all of an hour to cast, which only left Tina. Tina had never had the need or inclination for a gun, and they didn’t have the time for her to learn any real proficiency with a more traditional weapon. The best she managed was to grab a polishing rag and score a hit on Thomas when his ‘constructive’ commentary about her lack of skill hit her boiling point.

  That, at least, offered a feasible idea. A towel made entirely of iron was out of the question, but the blacksmith did have a good amount of iron wire, and Tina had access to a friend who was good with textiles.

  Tina hit a stumbling block when Lizzy had a few choice words about the fact that spinning wire with wool wouldn’t make it any more flexible, and re-directed her to Madge, who could crochet. Madge had been happy to let someone else take over writing while she calmed herself with a hobby. The looser construction of crochet added flexibility, the wire concealed amid steel-grey and hot pink thread, and the result was something like a hand-towel-sized throw that had gone too long without washing.