Wildwood (YA Paranormal Mystery)

by Taylor, Helen Scott

  He hefted his backpack over his shoulder and descended the stairs, bracing himself for the inevitable confrontation. He didn't have long to wait. Grandpa was in the kitchen.

  "Todd, I thought I heard you come in. You ready for some..." Grandpa turned from preparing a sandwich and his words trailed away. His gaze flicked over Todd's bags. "What's happening, lad?"

  "I'm going home."

  Grandpa turned, wiping his hands on a tea towel. "Has something happened?" He walked over to Todd and gripped his arm, twisting it to examine his elbow. "How did you hurt yourself?"

  Todd didn't have the energy to explain everything and get into the massive argument that would follow. "I just want to go home."

  He moved to pick up his sports bag, but Grandpa pushed the bag down on the table, keeping his hand on top. "You can't leave. I promised your mum I'd look after you until she came back from France. It might not be much fun living with an old codger like me, but I'm afraid you're stuck with me for another three weeks." He waved his arm towards the stairs. "Go and put your things back in your room, and let's have lunch. Tell you what, I'll hire some temporary help in the shop and spend a bit more time with you. We can talk a bit more about Richard if you like. How does that sound?"

  "Sorry, Grandpa, I'm leaving with Shaun. Please let go of my bag." His grandpa did release his bag but then backed up to the door and blocked the way out.

  "I'm not having you traipsing off God knows where with that hippie layabout. I should never have let you fall under his corrupt influence."

  "Corrupt influence?" You've got to be kidding me. The corruption in Porthallow had nothing to do with Shaun. He could have defended his friend and explained he was funny, kind, and a good mate. But he'd learned a long time ago that adults always thought they knew best.

  Todd let his irritation fade, took a slow calming breath, centered himself like Dad had taught him and became still.

  "Don't give me that holier-than-thou look, Todd. You're not going and that's final." Grandpa jabbed his finger at the stairs. "Get back up to your room. Now!"

  Todd didn't move. He stood still as the hunter stalking prey, still as the tree with its feet buried in the earth.

  The color drained from his grandpa's face leaving his skin pale and waxy beneath the fuzz of gray stubble. "Lord keep me, you look so much like Richard." His grandpa's shoulders slumped and he suddenly looked older.

  "Who were Dad's real parents?" Todd asked, the question out of his mouth before he could stop it.

  Two spots of red blazed on the old man's pale cheeks. "What... How do you know?" He swallowed awkwardly.

  "Edna Brown told me Dad was adopted." Todd wanted to know why Grandpa had lied about being married, but he couldn't bring himself to hit the old man with that question as well.

  "Edna?" Grandpa put a hand to his forehead. "Why would she tell you that?"

  "Isn't it true?" For a moment, hope flared. He realized how much he wanted Grandpa to be his blood relative, as if that would make everything normal again.

  "Yes. She's right. But why?" Grandpa closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  "Mrs. Keller told me that Professor Cardell knew Dad's real parents."

  Grandpa's head jerked up, the whites of his eyes showing. He looked...frightened. Had the adoption been illegal?

  "How did you get hurt?" Grandpa asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

  "Tell me who Dad's parents were."

  "When you adopt a child, they don't tell you who the real parents are."

  Todd frowned, unsure if this was true.

  "Did you get in a fight? Is that where the scratches came from?"

  A chill raced across Todd's skin. He didn't want to have this conversation, and bring all the weird stuff out into the open. Instinct told him he was getting close to something he'd rather not know. It was time to leave.

  He strode forward, tightening his grip on his bag, and halted nose-to-nose with the man he'd thought was his grandpa. "Let me out."

  Grandpa gripped his shoulders and gave him a shake. "Tell me how you got hurt."

  They stared at each other. Fear slid behind the blue of Grandpa's eyes, but there was determination in the way he held Todd's gaze.

  "I solved Andrew's murder." Todd watched the emotions pass over his grandpa's face: surprise, annoyance, and understanding.

  "You found the ruin of Hendra Farm." His gaze searched Todd's face. "The boys were there." His grip on Todd's shoulders tightened. He shook him again, harder, his fingers digging into muscle and sinew. "I told you to forget about Andrew's death, you stupid boy. You could have got yourself killed."

  "I survived." He purposely didn't mention that Professor Cardell had rescued him. He stepped back, shaking off his grandpa's hands. "You can't keep me here."

  "I care about you, Todd. Do what I say, and you'll be all right. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

  "Make what harder?"

  "You're only fifteen, lad. You'll do what you're told, or there'll be trouble. It's not just up to me."

  "Who is it up to? You don't mean Mum, do you? It's Professor Cardell."

  His grandpa pressed his lips into a thin line and clenched his jaw.

  "Answer me!" Todd dug in the pocket of his cut-offs and pulled out the Marigold and Todd corn dolls. He brandished the effigies in Grandpa's face "I know what's going on."

  Grandpa rushed him, making a lunge for the corn dolls. Todd sidestepped, and the old man stumbled against the sink. Todd didn't wait to see what happened next, he dashed for the door, racing through the shop to the street. He sprinted the short distance to the art gallery, his breath short, hot punches in his chest. He threw a shoulder at the gallery door and bounced off.

  He rattled the locked door. The gallery was empty. Had Shaun left without him? Relief surged through him when Picasso trotted through from the studio and pressed his wet nose against the glass. Shaun must be out. What lousy timing. Todd glanced at the convenience store, expecting Grandpa to race out after him at any moment. He must let Shaun know that he wanted to go with him. He dropped his backpack, dug in the side pocket, and found a pen and the receipt for his sandwich on the train. Leaning against the glass door, he scrawled a note on the back of the paper and pushed it through the letterbox.

  Shouting echoed into the street from Grandpa's shop. Todd must find somewhere to wait for Shaun, somewhere he could hide from Grandpa. But he'd need a view of the road to watch for Shaun's VW camper van.

  He sprinted up the hill out of the village. As he passed the small residents' car park, Kelvin was walking away from his car carrying shopping bags. Todd pulled up, his heart thumping. Marigold had said Kelvin wasn't one of the faithful who worshiped the Wild Lord. Perhaps Todd should ask him for help.

  Kelvin halted, his gaze raking over Todd, taking in his injuries and the bags he carried. "What's up, Hunter?"

  At that moment, Grandpa yelled Todd's name. Todd glanced back to see him outside his shop gesturing frantically. "Get back here right now," he demanded.

  Kelvin glanced down the street. "You in trouble, Hunter?" His gaze darted to Todd's patched-up elbow.

  With his bulging tattooed biceps, Todd could easily imagine Kelvin in uniform with a gun in his hands. He'd be a good ally. Could Todd trust him?

  Grandpa had started walking up the hill and was getting closer. Todd was out of time. He couldn't risk asking Kelvin for help. After all, he was living with Mrs. Bishop, and she was definitely involved in the Wild Lord thing.

  "Sorry I accused you of killing Andrew," Todd said. "I was wrong." He had one friend in the village apart from Shaun, if he could call an old woman his friend. He turned and sprinted up the hill.

  Todd slumped against Edna's front gate to catch his breath. He needed to get inside the garden and out of sight before his grandpa came around the corner by the oak tree and saw him. He stumbled up the path and knocked on the door. After what felt like forever, an upstairs window opened and Edna looked out.

>   "I'll be down in a few minutes. If you've come to do some gardening, you can fetch the things from the shed."

  There was still no sign of Grandpa, but Todd didn't want to hang around by the door in view of the road. He walked behind the house and went inside the shed where Edna stored the gardening equipment.

  Once inside the shady room, he dropped his bags and slumped down on a pile of logs. How had he got himself in this mess? His life had gone crazy. He felt as though he'd walked into a nightmare.

  Gingerly, he touched the scratches on his face. They weren't too painful if he didn't smile or frown.

  Would Grandpa follow him out of the village? Would he knock on Edna's door? Todd should have warned her he was in trouble so she didn't give him away. He stared at the wheelbarrow tipped up against the wall. He wasn't sure why he'd run from Grandpa as if the hounds of hell were on his heels, except instinct had told him to get away.

  He left his bags tucked away in the shed and crept outside to peer around the corner of the house towards the road. Still no sign of Grandpa. Maybe he had given up the chase, hoping Todd would return. He imagined him even now calling Mum's mobile phone to report that Todd had run away. He must call her himself as soon as he got mobile phone reception so she didn't worry. Todd huddled tight to the wall so he wasn't seen, and willed Shaun's camper van to come past.

  "Todd." Edna's voice called from the front of the house. He had to stop her shouting his name in case Grandpa heard. After a quick glance to check the road was clear, he jogged round to the terrace to find Edna staring out across the garden.

  "There you are. I wondered if you'd already started doing the gardening." Her welcoming smile dropped away as she noticed the scratches on his face. "You've been in the wars. What happened?"

  Todd didn't know whether to tell her the truth, make up a story, or keep quiet. He didn't even know if he should have come here. He sat on the terrace wall behind a huge pot of geraniums that hid him from the road and sucked in a breath. "I've had an argument with Grandpa."

  "Surely he didn't do that to your face?"

  Todd shook his head wearily. "That was a gorse bush."

  Edna's expression relaxed, but she was still tense, one hand fiddling with the glasses hanging around her neck. "Do you want to talk about what happened with John?"

  No. He wanted to forget and go home. But from her curious expression and tentative smile, he could tell she wanted to know the details and offer advice.

  Where should he start? He couldn't mention the Cochrans' ghosts. He was having trouble believing that himself, and he'd been there. "I asked Grandpa who Dad's real parents were."

  "Ouch. I suspect that went down like a ton of bricks."

  "We were already arguing about me investigating Andrew's death."

  "What did you discover that caused the ruckus?"

  Todd's fingers went to the scratches on his face. All this talking was making them ache, the pain creeping into his brain, causing a dull throb. But he needed to keep Edna chatting so he could stay here until Shaun came home.

  How much should he tell her? She might already know the villagers worshiped the Wild Lord. She might even be able to tell him what went on. "We were arguing about something else as well."

  She raised her eyebrows in question.

  "Have you ever seen anyone from the village going up to Lords Wood at night?"

  "I take it you don't just mean someone taking an evening stroll?"

  "More like midnight."

  A car passed and Todd shot to his feet so he could see. It was a silver sports car, possibly Shaun's father checking to make sure his son had been thrown out of the art studio.

  Edna's head turned to follow his gaze. She looked puzzled, but she didn't comment. "I'm usually asleep by midnight. Why do you ask?"

  "Grandpa and some of the villagers are members of a religious sect. They worship the Wild Lord." Todd pointed at Edna's front gate. "That's another name for the Green Man you've got carved on your gateposts. They go to the woods at night, light a bonfire, and chant." Edna's face froze in an expressionless mask. She thought he was lying. "I followed Grandpa. I've seen them in their robes."

  "Are you serious?"

  "That's one of the things Grandpa and I were arguing about."

  "I see." She didn't look convinced.

  Now Todd had started talking, he wanted to get it all off his chest. "They tried to persuade me to get together with Marigold. She said it was so I'd stay here." He pulled a you've-got-to-be-kidding face. "I'm outta here as soon as I can get a ride."

  "Don't you think you should go back and discuss this with John? I'm sure he has your best interests at heart."

  Todd had been certain Edna would see things his way, but adults always stuck together. He got to his feet. "I'll go and wait for Shaun in the road." If Grandpa hadn't followed him up here by now, he guessed he'd given up.

  "There's no need for that." Edna patted his arm. "I don't mean to sound unsympathetic. I'm just surprised." She nodded towards the house as she turned her wheelchair. "Come and have a cup of tea with me. It sounds as though you need one." She wheeled her chair in through the French doors. "Did you have any lunch before you dashed up here?"

  "No." Todd realized he was starving. He followed her to the kitchen, his radar humming in the background as though something was wrong, but he was probably still unsettled because of the day's events.

  The kitchen was huge, the big expensive-looking appliances and furniture spaced out so Edna could move her wheelchair between them. She put an electric kettle on to boil and started searching through a cupboard beneath the kitchen counter.

  "Do you want me to make the tea?" Todd asked, wondering if he should help.

  "No, no. I can manage this. You get out the bread and have a look in the fridge for the butter. You should find ham and cheese in there as well."

  Keeping an eye on the window so he didn't miss Shaun, Todd grabbed a block of cheddar and some pickles out of the massive fridge.

  "Bread bin's over there." She pointed to a large stainless steel container on the kitchen counter. Todd cut bread and made himself a cheese and pickle sandwich. After Edna directed him where to find the plates, she brought a china teapot and two cups to the large wooden table in the center of the room. "Sit down and start eating while I pour."

  Todd wolfed down his sandwich and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Edna presented him with a cup of tea and a packet of chocolate biscuits. "I hope you enjoy the tea. It's green tea, full of antioxidants. It's supposed to be very healthy."

  Sniffing the contents of his cup, Todd wished he could have plain old tea like Grandpa gave him. Edna watched him expectantly, so he took a sip. "Mmm, lovely." It was vile, bitter, and grassy. He struggled not to wince and forced down another two mouthfuls then shoved a chocolate biscuit in his mouth to take away the flavor. Luckily, the china cup was a delicate fluted thing shaped like a pink flower and didn't hold much. He managed to finish the tea in a few more mouthfuls, then killed the taste with another chocolate biscuit.

  Edna held up the pot. "More?"

  Todd nearly spluttered biscuit crumbs everywhere in his hurry to say no.

  He passed a hand over his face, wiping away sweat. The cool kitchen had been a welcome respite from the July heat. Now he felt hot again. He blinked, his head starting to throb.

  "Are you feeling all right, Todd?" Edna held up her glasses, peering at him as though he were a bug under a microscope.

  "I'm fine." A chill crawled over his skin and cold sweat pooled under his arms. He pressed his fingers to his eyes. "Have you got any painkillers? My head's aching."

  In the distance, the distinctive growl of Shaun's camper van engine sounded. Todd blinked to clear the haze in his mind. He had to get outside quickly, or he'd miss him. He tried to stand up, but his muscles refused to work. The world started to spin. Bile burned in the back of his throat. "Help me," he whispered. "Must get to Shaun."

  Edna sat with her hands folded on th
e table, watching him, as though nothing was wrong. He blinked and noticed her cup of tea was untouched. Then his head flopped forward and everything went black.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Todd woke to find himself lying on something soft. His brain ached as though it was too big for his skull, and the scratches on his cheek stung. For a few seconds, he couldn't think what had happened, then he remembered being with Edna. She must have given him drugged tea. The sense of betrayal burned inside him, pricking tears in his eyes. He'd trusted her, but she must have handed him back to Grandpa.

  For a few minutes, he kept his eyes closed feeling sorry for himself. Then he noticed he couldn't hear the usual noises from Grandpa's shop. And the room smelled of polish and old leather.

  He opened his eyes and stared at an old-fashioned glass lampshade. He was lying on a floral sofa and the wall facing him was lined with bookshelves holding rows of old leather-bound books. Where was he?

  Gingerly, he sat up and swung his feet to the floor. The room was three times the size of Grandpa's living area. A grand piano stood at one end and expensive-looking china figurines and pots were lined up on the mantelpiece. The room was full of arty stuff, everything from tall African statues to delicate Oriental china.

  He stood, squeezing his eyes closed to cope with the pounding inside his skull. When the headache subsided, he went to the large window behind the sofa. The house sat on top of a hill overlooking the surrounding countryside. To the left were the white cottages around the harbor of Porthallow; to the right loomed the hill topped with the stunted oaks of Lords Wood. This could only be Trewartha House, Professor Cardell's home. Straight ahead, the falling sun stained the sea gold. It was dusk. That meant he'd been unconscious for at least five hours.

  Todd rubbed his eyes and returned his attention to the room. He tried to sense other people in the house, but his radar didn't seem to work. No doubt the professor would be around somewhere. And somebody must have helped carry Todd here. Had it been Grandpa? The sense of betrayal flooded back and he struggled to suck air into his tight chest. Why were they doing this to him?