Wildwood (YA Paranormal Mystery)

by Taylor, Helen Scott

  He raised his head once to check her position, catching up to her within a few seconds. Her hair floated behind her like golden seaweed as he pulled her onto her back and kicked for the shore.

  Marigold lay so still in his grip he feared she was unconscious. But when they reached the shallows and Todd scrambled to his feet, lifting her in his arms, she stared up at him. He carried her to the sand, then let her legs down, supporting her while she found her feet.

  "What was that about?" He gasped, breathless from fear rather than exertion.

  Eyes wide, she swayed slightly. He grasped her upper arms to hold her steady. They were so thin the tips of his fingers met his thumb. He shook her gently to get a reaction. "Marigold?"

  "Don't tell them."

  "That you nearly drowned yourself?"

  "That you don't want me."

  Todd's mind skimmed over everything they'd talked about, but he didn't remember saying that.

  He stared at her with her dress clinging to her skinny body and her hair sticking to her face. She was tall. He was five ten and they were virtually face-to-face. He'd never kissed a girl, because he'd never met a girl he wanted to kiss. In his imagination, he'd pictured himself bending his head down for his first kiss like men did in films, but Marigold's mouth was level with his.

  He pressed his lips against hers. Cold and salty, the kiss still sent fire streaking through his veins.

  As he stepped back, she grinned and placed her palm on his chest over his heart. Her sadness evaporated as though it had never existed. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of red and whipped his head around. Standing on top of the cliff in front of the coast guard's lookout, Ruby Turpin stood watching them.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Todd collected his shirt and trainers from the beach, took Marigold's hand, and led her in among the boulders at the base of the cliff so they were hidden from her mother.

  "This is freaking mental, Marigold. Tell me why they want us to get together."

  She moved closer to him, rested her head on his shoulder, but didn't answer. Her wet hair and dress clung to his skin. In the shade of the cliff, he shivered.

  "Marigold!" He stepped back and gripped her shoulders to make her look at him. "Tell me what you did in the woods the other night."

  "You said you knew."

  "I was lying." He glanced over his shoulder, half expecting Ruby Turpin to come after them. He wasn't sure if Marigold's mother would be angry with him over the kiss. Although the way the adults were pushing them together, she would probably be pleased about it. He and Marigold were pawns in a plan that Grandpa and Ruby knew about, a plan that had something to do with their worship of the Wild Lord. Judging from Marigold's reaction to Professor Cardell's name, he must be involved as well. He might even be the ringleader.

  Todd suddenly had an idea. "Did they try to set you up with Andrew before I came along? Did it all go wrong?"

  That got a response from Marigold. She shook her head vigorously, pulling a face. "No way. I wouldn't have anything to do with him. You know what he was like." She looked down and fiddled with the limp ribbon on her dress. "Anyway, you're the one they're interested in, not me."

  "Me? I've only just arrived in the village. How can this be about me?"

  "Ask your grandpa. I don't know everything."

  "Tell me what you do know."

  "They want you to stay in the village. They think if you like me, you'll want to stay."

  Todd shook his head, totally baffled. So Marigold was bait? "What can they possibly want from me? This is crazy."

  Marigold shrugged.

  "Who's in on this, Mari? Is Professor Cardell the one calling the shots?"

  She squirmed and turned away.

  "Marigold!" Todd caught her arm, pulling her back. "Tell me."

  "Professor Cardell's one of the worshipers. He tells us what to do sometimes, but he isn't an official leader or anything."

  "Did one of them kill Andrew?"

  Glancing up, she met his gaze. "Mrs. Bishop is one of the faithful. None of them would have killed her son."

  The faithful? Oh, man. Todd squeezed his eyes shut for a moment trying to gather his thoughts. "Is Kelvin one of the faithful?"

  "No."

  "He might have killed Andrew, then."

  With a shrug Marigold said, "Don't you think Mrs. Bishop would know if he had?"

  Todd released a breath. It occurred to him that he didn't care anymore if Kelvin was involved or not. Maybe Andrew had just fallen off the cliff in the dark.

  "Did any of the faithful kill the Cochrans?"

  Marigold bit her lip and her gaze lost focus. "Truth is, I'm not sure. They were so angry about the threat to Lords Wood that it's possible."

  Is Grandpa a murderer? Although the old man wasn't a blood relative, Todd still had feelings for him. He couldn't bring himself to ask Marigold if she thought he'd set the fire.

  "There's something I want to show you." Marigold led him to a fault in the rock where the erosion had created a natural set of steep, uneven steps, and someone had hung a rope for support.

  Marigold stood back and let Todd climb first. He went hand over hand up the rope, careful not to slip on the loose stones. When he reached the top, he watched Marigold clamber up, fast despite her long dress around her legs.

  There was no sign of her mother, but Todd stayed alert as they started walking. Just before Lookout Cottage, Marigold led him down a track into the forest. The familiar cool, woody smell filled his nose.

  Neither of them spoke again until they were deep beneath the cover of the trees, well out of view from the coast path. "Where're we going?" Todd asked.

  "You'll see." Marigold glanced at him over her shoulder with a small smile. She obviously liked keeping him in suspense.

  He checked his hunter's radar and sensed the presence of many tiny beating hearts in the undergrowth. Everything felt normal, at peace. But for the first time in his life, he didn't trust his senses. He gazed around the woodland, checking for anything that looked unnatural or out of place.

  Marigold took him along a path he hadn't been down before. He focused on the smells around him, alert for the tangy smoke that robbed him of his extra senses, but the air smelled fresh and untainted. With his radar working, he knew exactly where he was and could easily retrace his steps.

  After about ten minutes, the path opened onto a large clearing with one ancient gnarled oak tree in the center. The position and age of the tree were unusual, but that wasn't what made Todd halt and stare. All sorts of decorations covered the tree. The brightest caught his eye first: lengths of brightly-colored ribbon and shredded strips of cloth tied to the branches like Christmas tree trimmings.

  As he got closer, other things fastened to the branches became obvious: bird feathers; flowers; twisted gold, silver, and copper wire; pieces of lace; small bones of birds and rodents. A heron's skull dangled right in front of him. He reached to touch it, but Marigold grabbed his arm.

  "No. These are offerings."

  "To the Wild Lord." He'd seen a picture of a tree like this in one of the Green Man books.

  He circled the tree noting other things: a plastic doll, a Christmas fairy complete with wand, homemade favors bound in knots of cloth, dried herbs, and corn dolls.

  Todd angled his head to get a better look at the crowd of corn dolls hung together along a thick branch. He recognized some of the people from the village: Mrs. Bishop, the woman with the twins, one of the fishermen, the woman who worked in Grandpa's shop. Professor Cardell was there, along with Ruby, Marigold, and Grandpa. But he couldn't make out who the others were supposed to be. He counted sixteen dolls in all. "Your handiwork?" He pointed at them.

  Marigold nodded. "Come a little farther." She took his hand and pulled him a few steps on, then giggled and rested her head on his shoulder.

  A boy and girl doll hung side by side, their hands bound together with gold wire, surrounded by a garland of flowers and ribbons. The long
yellow wool hair left Todd in no doubt that the girl was meant to be Marigold. The boy doll could have been any boy with short dark hair, dressed in a scrap of denim for jeans and a black t-shirt. But the fox drawn on the front of the shirt scraped icy claws down Todd's spine.

  "I asked you not to make a doll of me."

  With a little flick of her shoulders she said, "It's safe. Nobody would dare touch something on the Offering Tree."

  "Mari, the only people who understand that rule are the faithful. A tourist out for a walk in the woods will probably touch things on the tree, maybe even take them away."

  "Don't spoil this," she whispered.

  "Spoil what?" He yanked his hand away from her, angry, and more scared than he wanted to admit.

  Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked rapidly. Todd rubbed his face. This whole situation made him feel powerless and vulnerable, but he hated hurting her. For a few seconds he thought about running back to Porthallow like an animal fleeing a trap, but he couldn't leave her here alone.

  He pointed at the straw couple hanging on the tree. "This isn't going to work. I'm leaving soon."

  "Please stay." Tears ran down her cheeks.

  "It's not that I don't like you... Oh, God." Todd felt like banging his head against the tree trunk. "I want to go home. I can't stay here." Even the thought of living with Philippe didn't seem as bad now.

  "I'm scared of telling them." She touched his hand. "Will you tell your grandpa for me?"

  "Of course."

  She smiled, a brief, sad curve of her lips as though the effort was too much to keep up. Then she walked into the forest, leaving Todd standing beside the Offering Tree.

  When he was certain Marigold was gone, he unfastened the twisted wire holding the Marigold and Todd effigies before shoving the dolls into the deep pocket on the thigh of his combat cut-offs. He went to the branch where all the other corn dolls were hung and as some kind of insurance he didn't fully understand, he pulled off the Professor Cardell doll and jammed that in another pocket.

  As he left the clearing, he paused and glanced back at the Offering Tree, wondering what sort of punishment the Wild Lord was supposed to inflict on people who desecrated his tree. It was a good thing the Wild Lord was just a folk tale.

  Todd crouched on the cliffs and stared out to sea while he got his head together. The last couple of hours had started to feel surreal, as though he'd imagined everything.

  He had to tell Grandpa that the plan to get him and Marigold together was not going to work. The trouble was, that meant admitting that he knew about the group that worshiped the Wild Lord. Along the way, he'd probably end up admitting he'd poked around in Grandpa's bedroom and followed him to the woods.

  Grandpa would definitely be mad.

  Without deciding where he was heading, Todd stood and turned away from Porthallow. He wandered despondently, going over the past few hours in his head again and again. How had he managed to kiss Marigold, then immediately break up with her? At least his sad love life would give Shaun a laugh.

  After about ten minutes, he noticed the ancient woodland was thinning. A few minutes farther on, he came to a rough field. Cows stood around a water trough in a corner beneath some trees. Todd folded his arms on top of the gate and watched the animals chewing the cud, their tails flicking at flies. Beyond the small grassy enclosure was an overgrown, scrubby area.

  Birds flitted through the undergrowth. A sparrow hawk dipped over the hedge and chased a blue tit like a jet plane going in for the kill. A green woodpecker arrowed out of the woods and disappeared behind a bush. Wood pigeons and collard doves fluttered in the hedge. Todd boosted himself over the gate and wandered past the cows towards the overgrown area. He used his hunter's radar to sense if the scrub hid a badger's sett or a fox's earth. The presence of many animals filled his senses, but underneath the vibrant beat of life, a miasma of death shrouded the area.

  Avoiding the prickly gorse bushes, Todd pushed between hazel and ash trees at the edge of the field to find a heap of rocks almost obscured by ivy and brambles. He toed over a lump of stone, revealing a sticky layer of black soot.

  This must be what was left of the Cochrans' farmhouse. Todd withdrew his foot, feeling as though he'd trodden on a grave. Clouds drifted across the sun, and the temperature dropped. Wind gusted up from the sea to rattle the leaves. The wildlife seemed to still, and the feel of death obscured his senses like mud stirred up in water. Todd stepped away from the ruins, his gaze flicking around, unsure what he was picking up.

  In his peripheral vision, he caught movement. He swung around to face the two guys he'd seen under the tree in Porthallow. They stood together where the old farmhouse had been, and they were knee deep in the rubble.

  Ghosts! Of course. Why had it taken him so long to realize? He must be picking them up with his hunter's radar. No wonder nobody else remembered seeing them. Todd backed up, his gaze never leaving the boys. His skin prickled, every hair on his body standing on end. The eldest boy blinked out like a projected image and appeared again ten feet away.

  Scorching, smoky air blasted Todd's face. He threw up a hand to protect himself, then plunged sideways through the bushes, scratching his face on the gorse. When he broke out into the field, he sprinted towards the gate. With panicked snorts, the cows stampeded out of his way. Todd snatched a glance over his shoulder, but there was no sign of the ghosts.

  As Todd neared the gate to the coast path, the boy who'd attacked him appeared, blocking his escape. Searing heat surrounded Todd. He struggled to drag the hot air into his lungs and had to close his eyes against the smoke. Half blind, he stumbled against the gate. Grasping for the top rung, Todd pulled himself up and over, crashing to the ground on the other side. It was so hot, he couldn't bear the pain. Desperate for the relief of cold water, he crawled across the gritty coast path towards the sound of the sea.

  Someone grabbed his arm and flipped him onto his back. He stared through teary eyes at a tall figure in a pale suit. Professor Cardell stood over him and waved his walking stick in the air, his voice rising in a rhythmic chant. One moment Todd was writhing in agony, the next, the pain ceased. He lay on the dirt path, his knees pulled up to his chest, his breath coming in sobs.

  Eyes closed, Todd concentrated on being alive. The drum of his pulse in his ears gradually quieted, and his breathing slowed. He felt as though he had died and been reborn.

  When he opened his eyes, Professor Cardell was standing next to him, leaning on his walking stick as if nothing had happened. "I told John you were a determined young man. He thought he'd put you off searching for the answer to Andrew's death, but I didn't think you'd give up. Actually, I'd have been disappointed if you had."

  Professor Cardell's words flitted into his brain but didn't make sense.

  "You have made the connection, haven't you?" Professor Cardell pointed across the field with his stick. "The Cochran boys' restless spirits." Then he angled his stick to point over the cliff towards the sea. "The cliff, over which you nearly plunged to your death."

  Todd sat up and stared at the rocky lip that topped a sheer drop down to the sea. He'd have thrown himself over the edge to reach the water, anything to sooth the unbearable heat. His heart stuttered when the truth hit. "The Cochrans drove Andrew off the cliff."

  Professor Cardell nodded. "I didn't witness my grandson's death, but I believe the circumstantial evidence for such a conclusion is compelling."

  Andrew hadn't fallen or committed suicide. He'd been murdered by ghosts. Todd had solved the crime, but the culprits could never be brought to justice. A sense of unreality left him light-headed. "Why did they attack me?"

  Professor Cardell shrugged. "Maybe because of your connection to John. He sold them the farmhouse where they died."

  "Andrew wasn't related to Grandpa."

  "No. Perhaps he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Go home and take life easy for a few days. When you're ready, come up to Trewartha and we'll have a chat."


  "How did you send them away?"

  "I've learned a few tricks on my travels. In many cultures, it's accepted that restless dead may haunt the living. People know how to deal with them."

  "I've never heard of anything like this before."

  Professor Cardell pursed his lips thoughtfully, as if deciding what to say, then shook his head. "Give it a few days until you've recovered from your ordeal. Then I'll explain. Why don't you spend some time with Marigold?" He raised his eyes to the sky. "The weather's so lovely, you should be enjoying the beach and the sea."

  Todd should say the plans for him and Marigold were off, but he couldn't face an argument right now. He scrambled to his feet, and his head swam. Professor Cardell extended a hand, offering support. Todd ignored it and fought back his dizziness. The Cochrans were almost certainly not at peace because they'd been murdered, and Professor Cardell knew who had done it.

  "Thanks for your help," he said, looking down at his feet. Although Professor Cardell had saved his life, his radar was still thrumming with warning. "I'm going home."

  "Would you like me to walk back with you?" Professor Cardell asked.

  "I'll be fine, thanks." Todd set off towards the village, slowly, his legs rubbery. He planned to pack as soon as he got back. Having a group of weirdos set him up with Marigold was bad enough, but being attacked by ghosts was too much. He was going to leave with Shaun.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Todd got back to the shop, Grandpa was in the stock room. Todd slipped up to his bedroom without being seen. He emptied his clothes from the chest of drawers and stuffed them into his sports bag and backpack. Fetching his toiletries from the bathroom, he stared at himself in the mirror. He could hardly believe there were no burn marks on his skin. His only injuries were scratches on his cheek from the gorse and a nasty graze and bruise on his elbow where he'd fallen over the gate.

  He washed his elbow and patted it dry with a towel, then searched the medicine cabinet for some antiseptic cream and a Band-Aid. Once he'd treated the graze, he returned to his room and packed his final few belongings. He glanced out the window at the street. So much had happened to him. Was it only three weeks ago he'd arrived?