by Sam Short
“Me?” said Millie. “I’m not a teacher.”
Henry peered over his spectacles, a twinkle in his eyes. “Everybody’s a teacher deep down. We all have valuable knowledge to pass on,” he said. “Think it over, Miss Thorn. If you decide to stay in the bay permanently you’ll need something to do with your time. Money will no longer be an issue for you, and you’ll discover that having no need to earn a living leads to an unfulfilled existence.” He gave a small bow. “Now, if you’d all excuse me. I have a speech to give. Be sure to enjoy your beach party tonight, Miss Thorn. I think you’ll find it… both interesting and enlightening.”
Chapter 16
“Are you sure you won’t come in?” said Millie, aware that she’d hardly spent any time alone in the cottage, and not certain that she really wanted to.
Judith smiled from the passenger seat of the police car. “I can’t,” she said. “I have to wash my hair before a certain beach party that’s happening tonight.” She waved her phone out of the window. “And George has been texting me all day. He wants you to be here alone so he can come and get you. He’s going to pretend he wants to take you on a bike ride to the beach to watch the sunset. He’s really excited about surprising you.”
Millie licked her lips. “I’m not sure I want to go on his bike. Albert’s warning rattled me a little. I’ve never been a fan of motorbikes — two wheels travelling at speed have never seemed safe to me.”
“Albert didn’t know George was a vampire,” smiled Judith. “It’s highly unlikely that a vampire would crash a motorcycle — they have reactions that would put a striking snake to shame. Just go along with it, there’ll be plenty of booze to steady your nerves when you get to the beach!”
“The silver lining,” smiled Millie.
Judith opened her mouth to speak, but her father silenced her with a hand on her arm. “That’s the pathologist,” he said, reaching for his phone, which vibrated on the dashboard. “I need to answer it.”
Millie and Judith remained silent as Sergeant Spencer spoke on the phone, his raised eyebrows indicating that the news he was receiving was welcome. “Thank you,” he said, before he finished the call. “I think I know just who those hairs belong to. I’ll let you know.”
“What is it, Dad?” said Judith, when the call was over.
Sergeant Spencer smiled. “You can forget all about that threatening letter you found. The pathologist has found several long blonde hairs snagged on Albert’s clothing. No prizes for guessing whose head they came from — that woman was running from something, and I’ll bet my house on it that when we catch her, we’ll have a match for the DNA the pathologist will extract from the hairs.”
“How will we find her?” said Millie.
“Shall we start looking now?” asked Judith.
“We’ll do nothing for the moment,” said Sergeant Spencer. “You girls are going to enjoy your beach party. I’m going to go and ask some questions in town. If I need your help again, it can wait until your hangovers have passed tomorrow.”
After a quick shower, Millie threw the meagre contents of her suitcase onto the bed, and picked out a warm sweater and a pair of jeans. She took the time to hang the remainder of her clothes in the wardrobe, and slid the suitcase underneath the bed.
As she dried her hair, she glanced at the photo of her mother she’d placed on the bedside table that morning. That wasn't right. She looked again. Sure enough — the crack that had run the length of the glass had vanished. Picking the photograph up, she ran a finger over the unblemished glass.
No evidence of damage could be felt beneath her fingertip, and she frowned as she gazed at her mother’s smiling face. “Reuben!" she yelled, making her voice heard over the TV which the cockatiel had insisted was switched on. "Reuben!"
"What?" came Reuben's squawking voice. “Are you summoning me again?"
"Would you just come here?" shouted Millie. “Please?”
She turned the photo over in her hand. It didn't look as if anyone had tampered with the back, which would have needed to be done if the glass had been renewed.
A fluttering of wings heralded Reuben's arrival, and he landed on the bed beside Millie, a rogue piece of pepperoni hanging from the tip of his beak. The bird had been adamant that he wanted leftover pizza instead of seeds or fruit, and Millie had finally succumbed to his begging, reluctantly cutting him a few small pieces from the two slices which remained uneaten.
“Has anybody been here today?" said Millie, as the bird used a toe to guide the scrap of meat into his mouth.
"No," said the cockatiel. "Not while I was here, but who knows what could have happened when you summoned me. That's the danger of asking me to leave the cottage — there's nobody here to guard the place. Just a thought for the future when you next decide to drag me away from my TV shows.”
"If nobody's been here," said Millie, "then how do explain the fact that the glass in this photograph was broken when I left this morning, and now it's not?"
Reuben gazed at the picture. "Who is it?" he said.
"It's my mother," said Millie. "It's the nicest picture I have of her.”
Reuben hopped closer to the picture and studied it for a few moments. "She seems familiar," he said. "I feel like I’ve seen her before."
"People say we look alike," said Millie, running a finger over the glass. "It's such a shame that she never lived long enough to see me grow up."
"What happened when you broke the glass?" asked Reuben, his attention still on the picture.
"It was broken when I opened my suitcase," said Millie. “I hadn’t packed it well enough.”
“What did you do when you found it?” said Reuben. “Did you touch the broken glass? Were you sad that it was broken?”
“Yes,” said Millie. “I was sad. I touched it like I am now, and put it on the bedside table. It was definitely broken. I didn’t imagine it.”
Sharp claws dug into her leg as Reuben hopped onto Millie’s thigh. "Then it was your magic which fixed it," said the bird. “Most people experience powerful emotions when they see photographs of people they love, especially those that are no longer with them. When you saw that your favourite photograph of your mother was broken, you released emotions, and with those emotions came magic. You mended it, Millie. You used your powers.”
Millie placed the picture back on the bedside table, and closed her eyes. The idea that she had the power within her to mend broken glass, both scared and thrilled her.
"The photograph looks so familiar," said Reuben. "Her face. I know I've seen it before."
Millie opened her eyes. “That’s impossible," she said. “You can’t have seen her before. She died fourteen years ago, when I was ten. You’re probably just noticing the similarities between us.”
"Probably," murmured Reuben. He looked at Millie, studying her face. "You've both got that bent nose thing going on. Maybe it’s that.”
"Bent nose?" said Millie. "That's not a very nice way of putting it. Anyway, a lot of people think it's cute."
"A lot of people think wearing sunglasses indoors is cute,“ said Reuben. "But that doesn't make it a fact." He flew to Millie's shoulder. "Your nose does have a certain cuteness to it, though," he relented. "It gives you character, it takes the focus away from the fact that your eyes are a little too close together.“
"I suppose I should take that as a compliment," said Millie, “because the only other option is to take offence, and that might take me mad.”
Reuben took off and flew to the top of the wardrobe, where he perched, scanning the room. “Are you ever going to make this into your place?" he said. “It would be worth your while.”
"What do you mean?" asked Millie. She looked around. Was it her place, though?
"I mean it's as if you're living in a hotel," said Reuben. "It's as if you don't believe this cottage is yours. It's like you’re just waiting to leave — as if you’re not going to stay.” He fixed a sparkling eye on Millie. “You are going to stay, aren't you?
"
Millie sighed. She lay back on the bed, her feet still on the floor. "I don't know what I'm going to do, Reuben," she said. "I feel like I’m in a dream. I feel like I belong in this cottage, but I also feel as if I’m trespassing. There’s also a part of me that still believes that this whole thing, this whole place, is just a dream. A dream which I know I need to wake up from.”
"This is all real," said Reuben. "And you know it.”
She did know it, but that only made things seem even stranger. She wondered how most young women of her age would react if they were told that they were witches, and decided that she’d reacted well under the circumstances. “It’s a lot to take in," she said, "that's all."
“I expect it is,” said Reuben. “But you should make this cottage your own. The cottage transformed based on your energy, but even magic can’t see into your soul. You should add some personal touches to the place. It would be worth your while. I promise.”
Millie raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
The bird fluffed up his chest feathers. “I can’t say too much,” he said. “It’s not my place to do so. It’s down to you to work things out for yourself. All I will say, is that when the energy within the cottage knows you’re going to make this place your home, it will reveal things to you.”
“What things?” said Millie.
“I’ve said too much,” said Reuben. “I shouldn’t have said anything, I just get the feeling you’re going to leave, and I don’t want that.”
“Why do you sound so sad?” said Millie, sitting up again. “You hardly know me. You can’t tell me you’ll miss me if I leave?”
“I might miss you,” said Reuben, rubbing his beak along the top of the open wardrobe door. “But it’s more than that. It’s a lot more than that. It’s a matter of—”
Millie jumped as a voice called her name. “Millie? Are you here? The door was unlocked, I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in?”
“Bloodsucker!” squawked Reuben, swooping from the wardrobe and fluttering towards the door.
“Don’t you dare tell him I know about the surprise party,” hissed Millie.
Reuben circled the room, his wing tips skimming the walls. “Are you asking nicely, or demanding as my witch?”
“Urm, demanding?” said Millie. “As your witch.”
Reuben nodded. “Your demand will be met,” he said. “May I go and greet our guest?”
“Sure,” said Millie.
Reuben flew through the door at speed. “What do you want?” he screeched as he left the bedroom. “Come to try and force feed me seeds again, have you? Well it won’t work, bucko. My witch summoned me today. She claimed me as her familiar — I’ve got Millie Thorn watching my back now, and I’d like to see a bloodsucker try and take on my witch! She’d wreck you, vampire boy!”
“Calm down, you feathery fool,” came George’s voice. “I was asked to look after you when Esmeralda passed — until another witch arrived. That’s what I did. Your demands were outrageous, Reuben. I’m not some sort of soft witch who’s going to order in pizza when you demand it. You should be glad I fed you at all. I only looked after you because Fredrick asked me to.”
“Oooh,” cawed Reuben. “Got to do what your maker tells you! I’m freer than you, and I lived in that cage for a whole week, until Millie came and freed me.”
“I am free, Reuben,” said George. “Fredrick turned me into what I am today. I owe him, so I do what he asks of me. Within reason. He doesn’t force me to do anything. Anyway, where is Millie? Is she here?”
“I’m coming,” said Millie, slipping her sweater on. “What do you want?” As if she didn’t know.
“I want to take you for a ride on my bike. Nothing exciting — just a trip to the beach. I thought you might like to see the sunset?” lied George. “After what happened to you when I left you alone at the lighthouse, I wanted to show you something nice.”
Millie smiled.
There was a vampire in her living room. A vampire with a motorcycle parked outside. A vampire who had arranged a surprise party to welcome her to town.
What else could she do but smile?
“I didn’t hear your bike,” said Millie, as she entered the living room.
“Because I rode it slowly,” said George. “And the walls of this cottage must be at least two feet thick. With the windows closed you’d be hard pressed to hear a bomb going off outside.”
“Or did you fly here? As a bat?” said Reuben.
“You can do that, George?” said Millie. “Really?”
George laughed. “He’s joking. No — vampires can’t turn into bats, but we can tell when we’re in the presence of courage, and you have courage, Millie. I can sense you’re not afraid of me, even though you’ve learned the truth about me since we last met.”
“I try to judge people… and vampires, on first impressions,” said Millie. “And you gave a good first impression. What do I have to fear?”
“The fact that he might try and suck the blood from you, leaving you as a broken husk?” suggested Reuben. “A mere vessel of bone and sinew for your darkened soul.”
“That’s not true either,” said George. “Ignore him. He’s a bird-brain. I couldn’t suck the blood from you even if I wanted to. You’re a witch — your blood would cause me severe pain. And even if you were fully human, I wouldn’t suck your blood.
“Vampires don’t do that anymore — not vampires who don’t want to hide away in the shadows for the rest of their very long existence, anyway. Those days are long behind the majority of the vampire community, and I’m so relieved that I was turned in an era in which I never had to feed on human blood.“
Millie focused on George’s eyes as he spoke. The depth of emotion they conveyed gave her no reason to doubt him. George was telling the truth, and the fact that his eyes sucked Millie into their mysterious depths was a bonus.
He really was an attractive man. Or was that vampire? She wasn’t sure. She reached for one of the helmets George held. “I’m glad to hear you won’t be sucking my blood — I don’t think I’d have liked that. Shall we get going then? I’d like to see the sunset.”
If George guessed that Millie already knew about his surprise, he didn’t show it. He gave a huge smile which made Millie chuckle, and zipped his jacket closed. “It will be a sunset to remember,” he said. “I promise.”
George took his time as he navigated the narrow winding lanes, the motorbike's headlight picking out the occasional rabbit in the gathering dusk, and the sound of the engine startling birds preparing to roost in the hedgerows.
Millie gripped a hunk of leather jacket in each gloved hand, and held on tight, leaning in the same direction as the bike on each corner they rounded.
The road George followed skirted the base of the cliff which Spellbinder Hall perched on, and the harbour lights twinkled to the right, visible through gaps in the hedge as they zoomed along the lane.
Soon they were at their destination, and George brought the motorcycle to a halt in a small car park which already contained more than a dozen vehicles.
"Here we are," said George, removing his helmet.
Millie climbed off the bike, and removed her helmet, too. She took a deep breath of clean air, enjoying the warm sea breeze on her face. Soft crimson light painted George’s face, and the dimming orange sun had dipped low on the horizon, almost completely swallowed by the ocean. “It looks like we’ve almost missed the sunset,” she said, genuinely disappointed.
George smiled. He took Millie's helmet from her and placed it alongside his in one of the panniers. “I didn’t really bring you here to watch the sunset,” he said. “I’ve got a surprise for you, Millie Thorn!"
Millie grinned. The fact that she already knew that George had arranged a surprise for her didn’t matter. George’s eyes twinkled with excitement, and his body language screamed the message that he couldn’t contain his secret for much longer. His glee was infectious, and Millie found herself caught up in it.
Realising she was genuinely happy that George had gone to the trouble of arranging a surprise for her, she gave her best impression of a woman in shock. "What do you mean — a surprise?" she gasped, her eyes wide and a hand on her chest. “For me?”
George pocketed the motorbike keys, and turned to face the beach, stifling a giggle. He pointed. "Can you see that?" he said. “At the base of the cliff.”
Millie looked. Reflected on the white tips of gently breaking waves, was an orange glow, brighter than the one given off by the dropping sun, and amber fingers of light climbed the cliff wall, dancing higher as the wind irritated their source. "A fire!” she said.
George nodded. "Come on, let me show you."
The path through the sand dunes was hard work on Millie's calves. The soft sand made each step twice as hard as it should have been, and it was with relief that she stepped onto the firmer sand of the beach. She removed her shoes and socks and carried them in one hand as she walked alongside George, the sand cool between her toes. “It’s a big fire,” she said, as they neared the cliff.
“It’s big crowd of people to keep warm,” said George. “Look at them!”
The bright flames made it hard to see beyond the fire, but by squinting her eyes, Millie could make out the silhouettes of people against the orange glow. "Who are all those people?" she said, genuinely surprised. When Timothy had accidentally let slip that George had arranged the party for her, Millie had not imagined that so many people would be present. She counted the shadows as best she could, estimating there to be at least thirty people mingling in groups around the fire.
"Those are the guests!" grinned George. "To your party!" He took Millie's hand and gave her a sincere smile. "Welcome to spellbinder Bay, Millie. I arranged this party to make you feel welcome! I hope you have a fantastic night. You deserve it.“