Bourn’s Edge

by Barbara Davies

  “It’s hardly your fault if they didn’t give you clear directions.”

  Cassie’s forced smile became genuine. “It isn’t, is it?” She reclaimed her hand and tried to restart the engine. This time it worked. “Thank God for that.” She glanced at Tarian. “Okay. You win. Shall I stop at the pub and ask?”

  Tarian nodded.

  They were fortunate there was a space in the pub’s crowded car park. Cassie switched off the ignition and got out.

  “Want me to come with you?” asked Tarian, getting out to stretch her legs.

  Cassie shook her head. “Back in a tick,” she said, and hurried towards the Raggedy Bush’s entrance.

  To pass the time Tarian crossed the road to the common and strolled across the rough grass towards the raggedy bush. Strips of cloth fluttered from branches armed with sharp black thorns. As she drew closer, she frowned. Something felt off about the tree. She circled it, eyes narrowed, senses extended. So focussed was she on the tree, she didn’t hear Cassie padding across the grass to join her until the last minute.

  “Got it.”

  She turned to find Cassie smiling and waving a scrap of paper at her. Cassie’s smile vanished as she registered Tarian’s expression.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s been tampered with.”

  “What has? The tree?” Cassie cocked her head and squinted in the moonlight. “Looks all right to me.”

  “It isn’t. Someone’s put a spell on it. Recently too, if I’m any judge.”

  “What kind of spell?” asked Cassie.

  “Let’s just say that the people who’ve tied rags to it will be getting the opposite of what they wished for.”

  “What?” Cassie gaped at her. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “Only another Fae could.”

  “Another Fae?” Cassie looked around her and lowered her voice. “Is he watching us? Can you sense him?”

  Tarian shook her head. “Whoever did this is long gone.” Or knows how to cloak his presence. She wished the dogs were with her; their noses would help to track the perpetrator. But they were tucked up in their baskets, dreaming of stags or boars.

  “Can you lift the spell?”

  “I think so,” began Tarian, “but—”

  “What do you mean ‘but’? You have to lift it, Tarian. You can’t let people be cursed.”

  “No argument from me,” said Tarian mildly. “I was about to say that I think it will take just as much power to reverse the curse’s effects, so I might as well do that.”

  “Reverse it?” Cassie blinked at her. “So it becomes a real wishing tree, you mean?”

  Tarian nodded and managed to brace herself before Cassie crushed her in an enthusiastic bear hug.

  “Have I mentioned how much I love you,” came a muffled voice against her chest.

  “Yes,” said Tarian, smiling. “But I don’t mind if you mention it again.”

  Cassie stretched up and kissed her, then pulled back. Tarian arched an amused eyebrow at her before turning her attention to the tree once more.

  She sorted through various spells that might suit and picked one. It was a difficult working, which left her tired, her head aching.

  “All right?” Cassie rested a hand on her arm.

  Tarian nodded. Already the spell’s backwash was receding. She felt suddenly ravenous. “Is your friend Jenny a good cook?”

  “I’ve no idea.” Cassie hooked her arm through Tarian’s and urged her back towards the car.

  “You mean you didn’t ask?” Tarian was appalled.

  “It would have been rude.” Cassie gave her an amused glance. “Hey, I didn’t ask you if you could cook when you invited me to dinner, did I?”

  Tarian sighed.

  “Anyway, Dewi might be doing the cooking. I can’t remember.”

  They reached the car, and Tarian glanced back towards the raggedy bush one last time before getting in. “I must ask your friends if they’ve seen a Fae on the common lately.”

  Cassie finished fastening her safety belt. “More subtly than that I hope.” She turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared into life. “We don’t want them to know you’re one too.”

  “That goes without saying.”

  “And while we’re on the subject,” Cassie backed out of the car park, “we need to get our story straight. Can you remember when and where we met?”

  A memory surfaced of scarecrows toppled like ninepins outside Liz Hayward’s B & B, and of Cassie, eyes bright with curiosity, emerging from Liz’s front door. “At the Bourn’s Edge scarecrow contest, of course,” said Tarian.

  “Oh, that’s right. I remember now.” Cassie hooted with laughter. “Can’t wait to tell Jenny.” She was still laughing when she turned the car off the High Street into the narrow lane they had missed before.

  AS THE TAILLIGHTS faded into the night, the door of Eddy Spurrier’s cottage opened, and a man stepped out into the moonlight. It wasn’t Eddy. But then the cottage didn’t belong to him anymore. A “To Let” sign lay in the postage-stamp-sized front garden, awaiting collection, and the brand new poster tacked to the front window proclaimed: “Faith Healing by Corryn. Enquire Within” in bold red letters.

  He strode across the common, the leather of his jacket and jeans creaking with each step. In front of the raggedy bush, he stopped and stood, hands on hips, eyes narrowed.

  “Well, well,” he murmured, noting the changes that had been made to his spell. “This is unexpected, not to mention impudent. Meddling with another Fae’s affairs indeed!”

  He started to trace a glyph, but let his hand drop, the spell unfinished. “But why repeat myself? Maybe there’s a different sort of entertainment to be had.” He tipped back his head and closed his eyes. Nostrils flared and his brow creased in thought. When his eyelids reopened, his eyes were glittering with recognition.

  “Tarian. The last time we met, you were the victor.” He began to pace then stopped as a memory of something he had heard surfaced. “And it seems you’ve developed a fatal flaw at last. That’s handy.” He smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. “Perhaps it’s time for a return bout.”

  Once more, his lips and fingers moved. When the sparkling mote that was a tracking spell had sped off into the darkness after the vanished taillights, he headed back to his cottage. As he did so, his moon-cast shadow changed, becoming for a moment that of a giant spider. It was an affectation, a trick of light and shadow he liked to play—in the language of the Fae, Corryn also meant spider.

  Chapter 3

  When Cassie steered the mobile library into the Raggedy Bush’s car park, her regulars were waiting for her. Mrs. Norville scowled—her arthritis must be playing up again; Ian Cork blushed and flicked his hair out of his eyes; and Mrs. Sheldon, wearing hoop earrings this time, gave Cassie a welcoming wave.

  Cassie’s smile, as she switched off the engine, owed nothing to those waiting. Her gaze had fallen on the little iridescent dish, containing coins for emergencies, blue-tacked to the top of the dashboard.

  The previous Saturday, Jenny’s husband had taken an unexpected shine to Tarian. Tarian had assured Cassie she hadn’t enchanted him. And after dinner he’d been only too happy to show her around his studio. Of course, she had insisted on having a go at making something there and then, and with twinkling eyes Dewi had agreed. It wasn’t the evening either Cassie or Jenny had planned, but they poured themselves another drink and left their respective partners to it. In fact if Cassie hadn’t physically extracted a grumbling Tarian from Dewi’s studio at midnight, she would probably still be there.

  The shallow dish was Tarian’s first attempt at ceramic pottery. Something had gone awry in the kiln, or so Dewi said, and it had ended up looking like something by Salvador Dali. Cassie hadn’t allowed her to throw it away, however. “I like the colours,” she’d protested, as she held the dish out of Tarian’s reach—not easy, given Tarian’s much longer arms. “Besides. It has sentimental value.” In the end
Tarian had rolled her eyes and let Cassie keep it.

  As she jumped down from the driver’s seat, slammed the door, and hurried around to the side of the library, keys at the ready, the world slowed. She blinked, but the effect didn’t go away. It was as though everything around her was in slow motion, an impression reinforced when a sparrow that had been pecking crumbs by the kerb took flight, its wings moving as if it were trying to fly through treacle. Even sounds had slowed, as though someone was playing a tape at the wrong speed.

  Cassie was wondering, in growing dismay, if she was having some kind of fit, when a figure materialised in her path. Her heart pounded as she realised it was one of the Fae.

  He was taller than Tarian by a head, and like her had inherited his race’s good looks. His hair was short and as black as jet, and, taken together with the black leather jacket and jeans, the overall impression was one of darkness.

  Slightly slanted black eyes studied Cassie. She jutted her jaw and returned his gaze.

  “What do you want?”

  “Quiet.” Gloved fingers clicked, and she found she couldn’t speak. “Come.” Another click, and she found herself following him with as much control over her limbs as a puppet.

  Not again!

  The last time Cassie had been abducted in broad daylight, Einion had been acting on behalf of Queen Mab. This Fae was a different proposition, Cassie sensed. He was no one’s messenger boy, and whatever his intentions, they weren’t benign.

  She remembered the raggedy bush, and her heart sank. This must be who had cursed it. And somehow, he had managed to hide from Tarian. At the thought of her, Cassie sent out a mental SOS, but she doubted it would carry all the way across the valley.

  Helplessly she trailed her captor along the High Street, weaving in and out of pedestrians moving at a snail’s pace and oblivious to her presence. She saw Dewi gazing into a shop window, but couldn’t shout let alone raise an arm to flag him down. She was forced to walk on, thoughts whirling.

  My regulars will notice I’m gone. But how long will it take them to get help? And how will anyone know where to look for me? Which brought her to her next question. Where is he taking me?

  As if in answer, they turned onto a public footpath, of whose existence Cassie had been unaware. A signpost shaped liked a pointing finger read “To the Nine Sisters.”

  The stone circle.

  Her stomach lurched as unwelcome images surfaced of crazed figures dancing round a bloodstained altar on Midsummer’s Eve. What could he hope to achieve by sacrificing her? Was he angry that another Fae had tampered with his spell? If so, why had he targeted her and not Tarian? Unless . . . The knowledge that he must be aware of Cassie’s relationship with Tarian disturbed her.

  They left the village behind and headed towards the stone circle, the gradient steepening, the path growing narrower as they climbed. Soon Cassie’s calf muscles were burning and sweat beaded her upper lip and trickled between her shoulder blades. She felt aggrieved that they had to do this the hard way. Why can’t he just conjure up a flock of eagles to carry us there?

  At last the gradient lessened, and the Nine Sisters came into view. Cassie’s relief at reaching their destination was mixed with apprehension.

  Her abductor entered the ring of stones, which wasn’t as large as she had expected, and waited for Cassie to join him. “Sit.” He pointed to one of the standing stones. Her legs carried her up the slight incline and sat her down in front of it.

  A click of his fingers returned control of her limbs, and she saw the moment when time snapped back to normal—a clump of pink flower heads bobbed and swayed, and a bluebottle lifted noisily from a pile of fresh rabbit droppings. She sagged back against the lichen-covered stone, worn by time and the elements.

  He began to pace round the perimeter, stopping now and then to close his eyes. Once, his nostrils flared. Cassie wondered what he was doing.

  In other circumstances she might have been content to be up here. It was a pleasant day, and the stones had muted the busy hum of traffic so she could hear birdsong and a magpie chattering nearby. A sparrow hawk surfing the thermals above let out a fierce cry, and a welcome breeze sprang up, drying her sweat and fluttering strands of her hair. If she craned her neck and peered between two of the stones, she had a wonderful view across the valley. She could make out the spire of Bourn’s Edge’s church. It had never seemed so far away.

  Cassie clasped her shaking hands together. The movement attracted the Fae’s attention, but his glance was incurious. He wandered back to the circle’s centre, sat down cross-legged, and made himself comfortable.

  “Now,” he said, “we wait.”

  TARIAN WAS TRYING to decide which frame would best suit her latest canvas when the phone rang. She went through to the sitting room and picked up the receiver.

  “Yes?”

  “Tarian Brangwen?” asked a man’s voice.

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “Nether Hopton police station. Sgt. Wilkins speaking.”

  A jolt of alarm shot through her. “How can I help you, Sergeant?”

  “Is Miss Lewis there? Miss Cassie Lewis?”

  “No.” Tarian glanced at the clock over the mantelpiece. “She’s at work.”

  “Driving the mobile library?”

  “That’s right.” A chill ran down Tarian’s spine. “Has there been an accident?”

  “Not as such.” His sigh travelled down the line. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Miss Brangwen, but it looks as if Miss Lewis has gone missing.”

  “Missing?”

  “Her mobile library was found abandoned two hours ago. She was last seen parking it in the Raggedy Bush car park, then . . . Well, nothing.” He cleared his throat. “Those waiting for her say she vanished into thin air.”

  Tarian’s mind whirled. “In broad daylight?”

  “The circumstances are a little vague at present,” he admitted, sounding embarrassed. “But it’s a fact that she has gone, and my men are out searching for her.”

  “I see.” Nether Hopton and the raggedy bush again. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “Now you mustn’t worry, Miss Brangwen.”

  Easier said than done.

  “Our working theory is that she’s suffering from amnesia and has wandered off.”

  Tarian didn’t tell the policeman what she thought of his theory. “Should I come—?”

  “Stay put,” he ordered. “We’ll let you know if there are any developments. In the meantime, Miss Lewis could be seeking familiar faces and surroundings. I know Bourn’s Edge is on the other side of the valley, but amnesia sufferers have been known to travel greater distances than that. Will you inform us at once if she should turn up? My number is . . .”

  Tarian jotted it down on the writing pad. When the Sergeant had rung off, she replaced the receiver, and stared blindly out of the window.

  A wet nose pushed itself into her hand, and she glanced down into anxious brown eyes. She squatted and hugged Anwar and Drysi to her, taking what comfort she could. Then she drew back with a frown. “Something feels wrong.”

  Cassie’s binoculars were hanging from the coat peg in the hall. Tarian slung them round her neck, opened the front door, and stepped outside. The dogs followed her.

  “Afternoon, Tarian,” shouted Mike, as Tarian strode past his garage. She gave him a distracted wave but didn’t stop to talk. News that Cassie was missing would spread via the village grapevine soon enough.

  At the viewpoint a little further down the hill, which provided one of the best views across the valley, she stopped and raised the binoculars to her eyes. After five minutes’ intensive scanning, she let them drop.

  “This isn’t working,” she muttered. “All it’s doing is making me dizzy.” Think, Tarian. Think.

  She closed her eyes and gathered her strength. Then with a mental push, she sent her Fae senses winging their way across the valley. Minutes passed as she scanned Nether Hopton and the surrounding hillside, keep
ing her focus general but sensitive to the pattern in the weave of existence that was Cassie, a pattern as familiar to her as her own.

  Nothing.

  Tarian felt a growing sense of dread. Suppose she’s dead.

  Something snagged her attention, and, as a falcon swoops on its prey, her senses dived towards it. The trace was far stronger than it should have been at this remove. That puzzled her until it dawned on her that something had to be amplifying it. Her eyes snapped open, and she raised her binoculars once more and trained them on the Nine Sisters.

  There, among the nine standing stones—a flash of peacock blue. Hadn’t Cassie been wearing a top that colour when she left for work that morning?

  Eagerly Tarian reached out with her senses again, but this time something blocked her. She knew at once what it was. Who it was.

  Moon and stars! What was Corryn doing here?

  Tarian’s last encounter with this particular Fae had been at a tournament, when, as Mab’s champion, she faced him in single combat. She had won that bout, much to Corryn’s displeasure. Soon after, Mab had banished him from Faerie, or so Tarian had heard.

  Of course. Where else could he go except to the mortal realm? He’s been living here and up to his usual tricks—seeking amusement at others’ expense—ever since.

  It all fell into place. It was Corryn who had tampered with the raggedy bush and cloaked his presence so Tarian couldn’t sense him. And there could be only one reason for abducting Cassie and taking her to a place of Earth power that would amplify and advertise her presence.

  Cursing, she hurried back up the hill. Corryn was never one to fight fair unless forced to. And since their last encounter, Mab had stripped Tarian of her immortality. But if Cassie’s life was at stake, what choice did she have?

  Her hands bunched as she considered how to tip the odds back in her favour. From what she could remember, Corryn had few weaknesses. His love of malice and mischief meant not many in Faerie loved or even liked him, but on only one occasion that she knew of had he ever made a serious miscalculation. It had not been his intention, she was sure, to make Mab look foolish, but somehow he had. That was something the Queen never forgave or forgot.