Wildwood (YA Paranormal Mystery)

by Taylor, Helen Scott

  "Go on," Shaun said softly.

  "He and Ruby put on these long brown robes and went into the forest. Marigold was with them."

  Shaun opened his mouth, closed it again, and then thought for a moment. "You mean like Druids or devil worshipers or something?"

  "I think they're worshiping the Wild Lord." At Shaun's blank look, Todd continued. "You know, the Green Man. You must have seen the carvings around the village."

  Shaun's eyes widened. "Holy crapoly. Who else's involved?"

  "Don't know. But I'm guessing most of the village. The chanting I heard last night sounded like it came from a crowd."

  "Marigold too. Phew." Shaun slumped back in his chair. "I guess she wouldn't have a choice if her mum's involved."

  Last night, Todd had been angry with Marigold for not telling him what was going on and he hadn't thought about the situation like that. She had probably been worshiping the Wild Lord since she was a little kid.

  "Have you asked your grandfather what he was doing?"

  Todd grimaced and rubbed a hand over his face. "There's so much stuff I need to ask Grandpa, and it's bound to make him angry."

  "If you fall out with him, I'll take you with me." Shaun scratched his stubbly chin thoughtfully. "I could take you home if you want. Have you got a key?"

  "No. But the manager of Philippe's restaurant has one."

  They stared at each other thoughtfully. Eventually Shaun asked, "So what else has your grandfather done?"

  Todd explained what Edna and Mrs. Keller had told him about Dad being adopted, and how Grandpa had lied about having a wife who died giving birth.

  When he'd finished, Shaun mimicked wiping sweat off his forehead. "I can see why things might be awkward between you two. Why would he pretend to be married? D'you think he was worried the authorities might not let him adopt your dad if he didn't have a wife?"

  "There's something strange about that too," Todd said. "Do you know Professor Cardell?"

  "Sort of. He owns this place." Shaun circled his finger to indicate the gallery. "He came to check me out when I first arrived. Creepy old dude. What's he got to do with the adoption?"

  "Mrs. Keller told me he knew Dad's real parents. I think he fixed it for Grandpa to adopt Dad."

  "Wow. I know he's like some rich, important old guy. He's on the local council and stuff. Maybe he pulled a few strings."

  "He's a professor of anthropology," Todd said. "He wrote a book called Lord of the Wildwood. He's been all over the world studying gods. What if this Wild Lord stuff is involved with Andrew's death?"

  The usual flush in Shaun's cheeks paled, and his face tensed. Suddenly he looked older. "This sounds deep, man. If Cardell's involved, I think you should just forget it. I've only spoken to him once, but he's not someone to mess with."

  Picasso raised his head from Todd's knee and whined. A moment later, footsteps sounded in the gallery. Grandpa appeared in the doorway, his face flushed. "There you are, Todd." He jerked his thumb towards the door. "I need you back home. You have a visitor."

  "See you later," Shaun said. "I'll come and find you before I leave." He raised his eyebrows a fraction, and a moment of silent understanding passed between them.

  "Thanks." Todd followed his grandpa out into the street, wondering what he'd done wrong now. "Who wants to see me?"

  Grandpa glanced around as if checking he wouldn't be overheard. "An old friend of mine, an important friend. You'd better be on your best behavior, son. His name's Professor Cardell."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Professor Cardell was standing at the door to the conservatory staring out at the harbor when Todd followed his grandpa through the door. The man's straw hat lay on the kitchen table beside a silver-topped walking stick. Todd had imagined he would have thick hair to go with his elegant appearance, but his hair was thin and white, sticking to his scalp, making his head look skull-like. Professor Cardell turned smoothly, his pale blue eyes homing in on Todd. Grandpa hurried forward, while Todd halted, returning the stare, his hunter's radar vibrating a warning.

  "Apologies for the delay, William. The young rascal was in the art gallery with that hippie fellow."

  Grandpa continued to talk, but Todd didn't take in what he said. He suspected the professor was ignoring Grandpa as well, because his piercing blue gaze seemed to probe Todd, making his senses scream and his skin prickle and creep as though it was trying to crawl away.

  After about thirty seconds, Professor Cardell raised a finger. Grandpa bit off his words in midsentence and fell silent.

  "So this is Richard's son." Professor Cardell took three steps forward and his hand went to his throat to stroke his green cravat. "The likeness is extraordinary. One might say spooky if one were superstitious."

  "I don't think—"

  Professor Cardell turned his searchlight gaze on Grandpa, making him swallow his words.

  "I've been looking forward to meeting you, Todd," Professor Cardell said, returning his attention to him. "I had hoped you'd visit me at Trewartha House, but you disappointed me, young man. I've had to come to you." Despite the note of disapproval in his voice, he extended his hand.

  Todd didn't step forward to shake hands. Rather, he had to control the urge to step back to put more distance between himself and this creepy guy. He wasn't sure why the professor set his radar screaming off the scale in warning.

  "Todd," Grandpa snapped in a gruff whisper. He glanced at Todd, brows drawn down, before jerking his chin towards Professor Cardell. Todd breathed in and out, gathered his strength, and imagined a shiny layer of protective light around himself like Dad had taught him. With fake confidence, he gripped the thin hand offered to him. All living creatures, including people, felt of life, they hummed or buzzed or pulsed beneath his touch. He'd expected the sensation of touching the professor to be repulsive or at least uncomfortable. But the man's cool, dry fingers felt of nothing as though they were dead and, up close, he smelled like sour milk.

  Grandpa went to the sink and started pouring three cups of tea from a teapot. "Here you are, William." He put a cup on the table and pulled out a chair for Professor Cardell. Then he glanced at the sofa, seeming to change his mind. "Unless you'd like to sit in the comfortable seats."

  "This will be fine, John." Professor Cardell gave him a sharp glance and Grandpa backed off to collect the other two cups of tea from the draining board. He returned and put them on the table.

  Todd sat, keeping his gaze on the professor. He didn't understand why, but a battle of wills had started between them the moment he entered the room. Professor Cardell expected to be treated as though he was someone special, but Dad had taught him people had to earn respect. Todd wouldn't be rude to the professor, but he was not going to let his guard down, not when every sense he had warned him not to.

  Professor Cardell sat and smoothed the wrinkles out of his trousers, before folding his hands on the table. "So, Todd, tell me what your interests are."

  "Swimming," Todd said, because somehow he knew that wasn't what the professor would be expecting.

  Professor Cardell's eyebrows lifted.

  "I'm a member of my local swimming club. I race. I'm fast." Todd added.

  "Fascinating. Good for you," Professor Cardell said with fake enthusiasm.

  Todd was desperate to ask the professor some questions, but with Grandpa in the room, he couldn't. But Professor Cardell had mentioned Todd's dad, which gave him an excuse to ask about his father. "You knew my Dad?"

  "I certainly did. Richard spent many hours with me at Trewartha. I taught him about local history and customs. An interesting boy, your father. Rather a shame he had to leave the village."

  "Why did Dad leave Porthallow?"

  The two men exchanged a loaded glance. "Girlfriend trouble, I'm afraid," Grandpa said. The professor remained still, watching Todd, his cup of tea untouched.

  "I gather you've met Marigold Turpin," Professor Cardell said. "A delightful girl, don't you think?" He angled his head as if
searching for a reaction in Todd's face. "She's mentioned you to me. I think you've made a conquest there."

  Another adult encouraging him to get together with Marigold? What was it with the people in Porthallow?

  "What else do you like to do?" Professor Cardell pressed. "Did your father teach you any of his special skills?"

  Warning flickered through Todd. Was Cardell asking about the hunter's radar? Todd shrugged. "We did stuff together, but I was only ten when he disappeared."

  Professor Cardell gave him an assessing look. "I see. What a shame you lost your father so young. I'm sorry that happened."

  "I'm sorry you lost your grandson," Todd replied, watching closely for Professor Cardell's reaction. The man flattened his lips, making the skin stretch over his sharp cheekbones.

  "Thank you, Todd. I appreciate the sentiment, but Andrew and I weren't close." Professor Cardell's gaze remained fixed on Todd for a moment, cold and calculating. Then he stood, setting his hat on his head, and reached for his walking stick. A second before the man's hand covered the top, Todd noticed the silver was decorated with a leafy pattern. He was annoyed with himself for not noticing the design earlier.

  "Now we've met, I'd like to invite you to visit me at Trewartha House. I've artifacts from all over the world that I'm sure would interest an inquisitive boy like you. Richard was fascinated by my research. I'm sure you'll find it interesting as well." He headed for the doorway and paused before he left. "I'll be seeing you then."

  After he left, Todd stared at the empty doorway, very aware that his hunter's radar was calming down now the professor was gone.

  "Well," Grandpa said. "What do you think of Professor Cardell?"

  Todd shrugged. "He's okay." If you like slimy things that crawl out of the mud.

  ***

  Todd had an open invitation to visit Professor Cardell which offered the perfect opportunity to question him. The trouble was, the thought of being alone in the manor house with the guy made Todd shiver. He decided to head out of the village and talk to Marigold, then maybe go on to Trewartha House.

  Hoping to bump into Marigold on the cliffs, Todd checked the grassy area where she liked to sit, but he didn't find her. With a reluctant sigh, he headed on to Lookout Cottage.

  Mrs. Turpin opened the door, wiping her hands on her apron. She gave him a knowing smile. "You're after Marigold, no doubt?"

  Todd nodded.

  "She's gone for a walk." Mrs. Turpin waved a floury hand towards the cliffs. "Try up by the old lookout."

  "Thanks." Todd looked down to hide his smile as he remembered the evening he and Marigold had spent lying on the grass in front of the old coast guard place.

  He went out the front gate and headed away from the village. Just before he lost sight of the cottage, he glanced back and saw Ruby Turpin still standing at the door watching him.

  Disappointment surged through him when he found the bank in front of the lookout was deserted. A noisy flock of gulls wheeled above his head as he walked to the cliff's edge to stare at the choppy water. Although the weather was calm on land, the waves showed it must be rough out to sea.

  He scanned the rocky coast one way then the other. About a couple of hundred feet to the right, Marigold stood in a sandy cove staring out to sea. She looked small and lonely, dwarfed by the endless expanse of ocean before her and the towering gray granite cliffs at her back. The wind lifted her hair and flapped her long dress around her legs.

  Todd examined the cliff for a way down to the beach, but there was no sign of a path. The only possible access was via the tumble of boulders in front of the coast guard lookout.

  Crouching for a better view, Todd chose the best route, then climbed down. He jumped from rock to rock, grazing his knees and scraping his hands. With a shot of relief, he made the final leap to a pebbly gulley at sea level. He picked his way around rock pools and boulders, soaking his shoes where a stream bursting with rainwater cascaded down from the cliff and flowed towards the sea. He paused when he reached the sandy cove, thinking Marigold had gone. Then he saw the flutter of her yellow dress on the rocks at the far side.

  Todd sprinted, his feet slapping the hard-packed sand with a satisfying smack, filling his lungs, enjoying the stretch and power of his muscles.

  Marigold looked up as he neared and quickly untucked the hair from behind her ears. She stood and smoothed down her dress. "Todd, where've you been the last few days? I've missed you."

  He would have come to see her sooner, but he still wasn't sure how he felt about seeing her robed up for the pagan ritual. "Sorry." He shrugged, not sure what he was sorry for, but it felt like the right thing to say.

  She smiled at him. "Come and look at this." She squatted beside the rock pool again. Todd watched her, wondering how sometimes she seemed old for her age and at other times, she seemed like a little girl.

  He jumped onto the rocks beside her and rested a knee by the edge of the pool. The water teemed with tiny creatures: fish, shrimpy things, wriggly things, none of which he could name. He liked to think he knew a lot about nature and wildlife, but Dad had rarely taken him to the seaside. Marigold turned over a small piece of submerged rock and a tiny crab scuttled out, raising a cloud of sand in the water. She brushed the tip of her finger over a dark red flower. What Todd had thought were petals shrank at the contact, becoming a jelly-like ball.

  He found one and touched his fingers to the petals, watching them retract. "It's an animal?"

  "An anemone." She grinned at him. "Didn't you ever study rock pools at school?"

  "Don't remember."

  Legs crossed, she watched him. Suddenly he was strangely aware of his arms and legs. What did he look like to her, crouched here, dabbling in the water like a little kid?

  He braced one hand on the rock so his biceps tensed and stretched his legs out beside the pool, trying to appear casual.

  "Have you got a girlfriend, Todd?"

  Heat crept up his neck and he willed it away. "No."

  She reached towards him. His heart thumped as she traced the tendons in his forearm with a single slim finger while looking up at him from beneath her lashes.

  He remembered how much he had liked the feel of her touching him. Strangely, it now made him want to get away. "I'm going home in a couple of weeks."

  "Perhaps." She circled her fingers around his wrist. "You're strong and fast, Todd. I've seen you run."

  He grunted because he couldn't think what to say. He stood up and squinted out to sea, pretending to be interested in a container ship on the horizon.

  "If you were going to stay, would you be my boyfriend?" Conflicting emotions flashed through him. He could imagine being her boyfriend, spending time with her, kissing her. But a spike of warning pierced through the images. He could not shake the feeling that he was being manipulated into this by...everyone.

  She rose to her feet and moved beside him. Todd jumped down to the sand and rubbed the sweat off his face with his sleeve. He should be asking her about the night she went into the woods with her mum and his grandpa, not getting sidetracked.

  She jumped lightly to the sand, her dress billowing like a parachute exposing her long, slender legs. "Mum wants you to be my boyfriend."

  His breath caught halfway in and hung for a moment. Although he'd suspected this, hearing Marigold say it still gave him a weird feeling. "Grandpa's been encouraging me too."

  Staring at her feet, she curled her toes in the sand.

  It was time to take a shot in the dark and see if he could get some answers. "It's something to do with the Wild Lord, isn't it?" Todd whispered.

  Marigold raised wary eyes to him. "What makes you think that?"

  He didn't want to lie to her but she hadn't been totally honest with him. "Grandpa told me."

  She glanced towards the lookout as if searching for help, then turned back to him. "He didn't say he was going to tell you yet."

  Todd took a step closer to her. "I saw his robes."

  She bit he
r lip. "How much do you know?"

  "Everything."

  She shook her head. "You didn't know about us."

  Something elemental flashed through him at her words. He recalled Mrs. Keller's warning about Marigold and not letting history repeat itself. Suspicions flooded his mind.

  "They have the same thing planned for us that they had planned for your mum and my dad, don't they?"

  A little whimper escaped Marigold. "I'd have liked you anyway, Todd. Even if they hadn't…"

  Todd stepped in front of her. Tears glistened on her eyelashes. "Tell me what went on in the woods the other night."

  "You said you knew." She turned her back on him, her shoulders trembling.

  "Marigold," he said as calmly as he could, "what do they have planned for us?"

  No answer.

  "Is Professor Cardell involved?"

  With a muffled sob, she ran away, but she didn't run towards the cliff as he expected; she ran towards the water. When she reached the tide line she didn't stop but hiked up her dress and splashed on.

  He watched, confused for a few moments. "Marigold," he shouted. "What're you doing?" She didn't pause or look around but kept going, the water up to her waist now. The first hint of fear brushed through him.

  Normally, he kept his hunter's senses closed when he was with Marigold, otherwise he felt light-headed and a little out of control. Now he let himself reach out and his radar picked up the animal reek of fear. His mind rebelled at the thought she was frightened of him. There had to be another reason.

  Water lapped at her chest now, but she made no effort to swim. She was still wading, the bigger waves hitting her in the face. With a snap of understanding, he launched into a run. She wasn't going to stop. He sprinted to the water's edge, toed off his shoes, and yanked his t-shirt over his head. He ran into the water and, when he had enough depth, dived into the surf, gasping at the shock of cold water against his face. Finding his rhythm, he cut through the waves with easy strokes, the action as familiar to him as walking.