by TJ Green
Then she felt a breeze across the back of her neck, and the temperature around her dropped.
Avery whirled around, her hand raised, ready to either defend or attack. “Helena? Is that you?”
A shimmer in the air to her left had Avery turning swiftly, but nothing appeared, and the cold air disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. That was odd. Was Helena trying to contact her again, or was it something else? One good thing, she reflected, was that at least nothing had been thrown at her. But where the hell was Helena?
At six that evening, after a couple of hours of research, Avery arrived at The Wayward Son and found that Reuben, El, and Briar were already in the back room at the pub, chatting over drinks. She grabbed a glass of wine at the bar, unable to see Alex, who she presumed was in the kitchen, and joined them.
The small room at the back of the pub was, as usual, quieter than the main area, spelled by Alex to only encourage locals to loiter. The patio doors were open, and a warm evening breeze flowed inside, carrying the sounds of voices and laughter from those seated in the courtyard garden.
“Hey, guys,” she said, sipping her wine and taking a seat. “I hear Newton has had an interesting twenty-four hours.”
Reuben nodded. He had a half-empty pint glass in front of him, and his arm was slung across the back of El’s chair. “Yeah, unfortunately. We haven’t heard from him since lunch, though. I guess he’s very busy.”
Avery frowned at him. “Have you been here all afternoon?”
“No! I’ve been surfing, obviously! Trying to clear my head after a few too many beers last night.”
El laughed. “Like that ever puts you off. You’re a freak. What have you been up to, Avery?”
Avery reached into her bag and withdrew a small, slim book with a few pages marked, placing it on the table. “I’ve been doing some reading this afternoon, and have a few ideas of what could have caused that man’s death.”
“Have you?” Briar asked, looking hopeful. “I’ve been completely tied up with making new stock for my shop.”
“I have news, too,” El confessed, looking pleased. “I’ve been at the forge with Dante for a couple of hours. The boys want enhanced weapons, so I’ve been working on them in my downtime.”
Avery was momentarily sidetracked. “As in the Nephilim?”
“Yeah—I’m making swords and daggers with enhanced powers. They’ve all decided they want some. Nahum wants throwing knives, so that’s a challenge.” She grinned. “Fun, though. Anyway, while I was there, I showed him the coin…but you first!”
“I’ve been reading up on piskies, púcas, spriggans, and other Cornish creatures, trying to decide if they have something to do with that man’s death, but to be honest, I’m a bit bewildered,” Avery said, her hands idly flicking the pages of the book. “I need to chat to Dan. There are so many legends to consider.”
“That’s a good idea,” Briar agreed. “Reuben said you were going to phone Oswald. Did you ask him about supernatural creatures?”
“No, actually,” she said, telling them what they’d discussed. “But he will keep an eye out for anything odd.”
Reuben pulled the book towards him and started leafing through it. “What sounds most likely then, according to this?”
Avery frowned. “Púcas are a possibility—they have a reputation for being menacing. Or, more likely, spriggans.”
“Like what our beach is named after?” Reuben asked.
She nodded. “Among the many stories about them, they apparently hang around old ruins and cairns, guarding buried treasure. They can become very mean when disturbed.”
El looked baffled. “Aren’t they supposed to be like little old men?”
“Yes, though that doesn’t sound particularly threatening,” Avery confessed.
Briar rubbed her face, bemused. “This is a crazy conversation to be having—and I know that I’ve been possessed by the Green Man—but this just sounds mad!” She leaned forward. “Are we actually entertaining this discussion?”
Reuben tutted. “Briar! Of all the people who should be the most accepting of this! You go out with a shape shifter! How is he, by the way? He hasn’t been down for a few weeks.”
“He’s fine,” she said, a flush colouring her cheeks. “Just involved with pack business. And I know exactly what you mean. It’s just that piskies, of all things, and other little creatures sound, well, make-believe!”
“You’re right,” Avery admitted. “I’ve been wrestling with this for the last couple of hours, persuading myself that I’m already mad just thinking about it.”
El laughed. “You live with a ghost, and we’ve banished mermaids, spirits and demons, and seen the Raven King! Surely it’s not that far-fetched?” Her finger tapped her pint glass. “Maybe we should speak to Shadow. She’s fey, and might know far more about them than what’s written in that book.”
“I hadn’t considered that,” Avery said, nodding. “By the way, talking of ghosts, I had another odd experience this afternoon.” She started to relay what had happened in the shop, and Alex arrived halfway through, taking a seat opposite her.
Once she finished, he frowned. “But you didn’t actually see Helena?”
“No, not this time.” Avery took another sip of her wine. “But I’m even more worried about her now.”
“I wish I could say I miss her,” Alex said, “but I don’t. However, I will look for her tonight, as agreed.”
“Thank you!” Avery hadn’t wanted to make such a big deal about it, but now that he’d offered, she couldn’t wait to see what he found. Realising he hadn’t heard her update about Oswald, she said, “And I spoke to Oswald. He’s going to make inquiries, but there’s nothing much going on that he’s noticed.”
“Well,” Alex said, looking pleased with himself. “I’ve found out that our very own White Haven Museum has a new exhibition on smuggling. It starts next weekend, and is only open for a short time, but it will be worth seeing.”
“I’ve never been in there at all,” Reuben confessed, slightly sheepish.
Alex laughed. “Well, that’s not surprising. You’re not exactly known for your love of museums and research.”
“I could be persuaded to go, though,” he said, “if there’s a pub lunch at the end of it.”
“I’m sure we could manage that,” Avery reassured him. “I wonder if there’ll be something about the West Haven tunnels there?”
The passages they had found that led from Rupert’s House of Spirits connected to a network of tunnels, and they hadn’t followed most of them, focussing only on finding vampires.
El looked thoughtful. “I’d love to know how far they go. There are smuggling tunnels all over Cornwall. But where has that doubloon come from?”
“And what’s its message?” Briar asked. “It would have been better off leaving the man dead with no doubloon. Now we have a clue!”
“Is it, though?”Reuben said, ever sceptical. “Or is it a diversion?”
“So, what have you found out about our coins?” Briar asked El.
“They are guineas, British, and the one I have is eighteenth century—King George, I think Dante said, though not sure which George.” She shrugged. “But guineas were made in the seventeenth century too, so we may have a mixture.”
“Are they worth anything?” Alex asked.
“Sure! Not millions or anything,” El said brightly, “but a few hundred pounds, depending on the guinea. The quantity of gold in them varies, apparently, and they’re worth more than their value to a collector.”
“So,” Avery reasoned, “these are obviously a very different timeframe to Spanish doubloons. I guess the question still is, are they connected? Is the death of the man in Fowey and Helena’s odd appearance connected?”
“Surely, they have to be!” El said, appealing to them all.
The others looked around the table blankly, and Avery realised that with so little to go on, they were speculating wildly. But at this stage, there was nothing e
lse they could do.
“If we’re going to look into smuggling,” Briar said, interrupting her train of thought, “we should go to Bodmin and see the Jamaica Inn Smuggling Museum, too. That’s supposed to be good.” She rose to her feet wiggling her glass. “Another drink, everyone?”
Chapter 5
Alex sat in front of the fire in the attic, in the centre of a circle of protection, with a single candle burning in front of him. Avery sat opposite him, cross-legged. She’d watched his preparations silently, her lips pressed tightly together.
He tried to reassure her. “Avery, I’ll be okay.”
“You don’t know that! You’ve never done this before!”
She was right, and he was worried, too. He had just spent the last hour trying to summon Helena, seated outside a summoning circle, but she had failed to appear. He’d sensed some kind of block, and unable to work out exactly what it was caused by, he’d opted to travel into the spirit world to find her.
He squeezed Avery’s soft, warm hands that were in his own. “My own magic is now stronger than it ever was.”
“I know. So, I just ground you—give you some power, like when you spoke to the Nephilim in All Souls’ Church?”
“Sort of. Just remember, I might take quite a while, but don’t freak out.”
The candlelight flickered across Avery’s face as she nodded, the rest of the attic in complete darkness. The potion he’d drunk to help him enter the necessary mental state was already taking effect, and as he started to utter the spell that would bring him into the spirit realm, the darkness seemed to get more absolute. Within seconds, Avery’s face disappeared completely, and he was surrounded by a shadowy void.
Alex felt weightless, his body left behind, but still he felt Avery’s warm presence, like a kiss on his consciousness. But she wasn’t just there to support him; she was there to help him find Helena. Whatever he thought about their connection didn’t matter; the important thing was that their connection was strong.
He’d noticed similarities in their looks, around the eyes and slim build, not to mention a certain stubborn set to their features, but there was more than that. Helena was of a similar age to Avery when she died, something that had upset Avery more than anything, especially as she had two young children. But where did she go when she wasn’t in Avery’s flat? And how had she corralled so many spirits on Samhain to walk through the town? Helena was unusual in that she wasn’t a spirit at rest; she still visited the real world, and had managed to retain some kind of control of her actions.
For a few moments Alex tried to orientate himself, and felt a tremor of unease as he realised that was impossible. There were no landmarks here, just shadowy presences that he sensed rather than saw. He was in a grey void. Was this what spirits saw? Or only him, as a live being moving in a place where he probably shouldn’t be?
Enough. Time to move. He willed himself forward, feeling presences brush past him, mostly harmless and curious. But the further he travelled, the stronger their curiosity grew. His spirit was bright in their realm, like a beacon. He paused, trying to detect Helena’s presence, calling out to her with his spirit voice, but he couldn’t feel her at all. Every now and again he felt an echo of her presence, but still pushed on, frustrated at her nebulousness.
Something wasn’t right, he knew it. He was deeper now, and the atmosphere had changed. Spirits fled before him, but with a flash of recognition and a feeling of victory, he picked up Helena’s energy—but following it was like following a fine thread. She was so elusive.
And then he felt something else, something that watched him, waited for him. No, there was more than one presence—there were many more—and he picked up a distinct feeling of resentment from them. He ignored them and called for Helena, projecting his power outwards, and finally heard a cry. A glimmer of light flashed from what seemed to be a long way away before vanishing again.
He was close, he knew it, and he continued on, regardless of the brooding menace of those watchful presences that were too close for comfort. Then he summoned his magic. Using magic here was very different to using it on the Earthly plane. Spells didn’t work as effectively, but his power would be visible to those around him. He flexed it now, so that it pulsed as a warning to others, and then pushed on, Helena’s presence growing closer.
Out of nowhere, something hit him, like a punch to the gut. It sent him spinning away, leaving him confused and disorientated—and feeling smothered.
And worse still, Avery’s presence had vanished.
Alex tried not to panic; that was the worst thing to do. Getting lost in the spirit world was a sure way to die, but the feeling of being restrained was stronger now, as if a bag had been thrown over his head. He was suffocating—which should be impossible—but it was happening.
It was a trap. Was this Helena’s doing?
Anger surged through Alex and he flexed his power again, feeling a wave of magic roll around him. For a moment, he could breathe, just before he felt rough hands on him and smelt something sour and fetid. Alex fought back, desperately trying to break free, but with every struggle, his bonds grew stronger.
What the fuck was happening?
Real panic kicked in then. Something malevolent was here with him, gleeful with his capture. Alex’s spirit struggled wildly, his magic now rolling off him in waves, but nothing seemed to work. He was stuck, and the sour smell returned, thick and oily, filling his mind with death.
And then he felt someone else, someone so familiar that he almost forgot the trouble he was in, and a wave of different power flashed from a point close by. The hands that restrained him weakened, and Alex broke free.
“Alex,” the presence whispered in his ear.
Alex jerked back. “Gil? Is that you?”
Gil’s shimmering face appeared before him, its kind, comforting lines so familiar to him that Alex could have cried.
“It is, old friend. You have ventured too far, Alex. It’s dangerous here. Go back.”
“But why? What’s happening? How did you find me?”
Gil glanced behind him, at nothing that Alex could see, but a hardened resolve appeared on his face. “Another witch, strong like you, has walked these paths, but whoever it was knew exactly where they were going. They’ve been helping old spirits who want revenge. They’re the ones who attacked you. Let’s go.”
Gil sent another flash of power behind him, and then before Alex could comprehend what was happening, Gil propelled them both away. They were travelling swiftly now, streaking through dark, shadowy realms he hadn’t even realised he’d passed through, and so fast that Alex was dizzy and sick by the time they finally stopped. He felt Avery again, a candle in the dark.
Gil looked around once more. “We’ve lost them for now—but you have to go!”
“What witch? Tell me. It’s important.”
“I don’t know who it is. I can’t even tell if they were male or female! It was just their energy that made them stand out.”
“You’re sure it’s not the spirit of a witch?” Alex asked, desperate for answers before he left. “I’m looking for Helena—Avery’s ancestor!”
“Helena?” Gil gave a hollow, empty laugh, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and joy. “Why are you looking for her?”
“It’s a long story, but ever since we regained our grimoires, she’s been with us…until recently.”
“No wonder she feels different,” Gil said, nodding as if things were making sense to him. He looked behind him again, fearful of pursuit, and then focussed sharply on Alex. “Yes, I have felt Helena, but she’s trapped, and you won’t get her free—not yet.”
“And you’re sure she’s not the witch you sensed?” Alex was confused now.
“No. The other witch was as real as you are, not a spirit. Causing trouble with the ones who attacked you. You were far deeper than you realised—and you don’t know this place like I do. Skilled though you are, you travelled too far.” Comprehension dawned. “Helena was
a lure. You must go—they’re getting closer!” Gil’s spirit pushed Alex again, shepherding him away, and Alex felt desperately sad; he didn’t want to leave Gil so soon after finding him.
“But Helena!” Alex persisted. “I can’t leave her trapped.”
“You must leave her to me, and instead deal with the witch in your world. I’m just sorry I can’t tell you more.” Gil gave him one final push. “Go! Give my love to the others, especially my brother.”
And then he vanished.
For a moment, Alex hung in the dark, and then feeling the vengeful spirits once more, he returned to his body with such speed that his breath left him. He opened his eyes to find Avery staring at him with surprise and relief.
“Thank the Gods!”
But there was no time to rest. “Something’s coming!” Alex leapt to his feet—or tried to. His legs felt numb, and it was more of stagger, but he stood in the dark attic, lit only by the flickering fire and single candle. “Don’t move from the circle!”
“Why?” Avery asked, standing as well and raising her hands, magic balling in her palms.
The words had barely left Avery’s mouth when a whirling object appeared out of nowhere, clattering against their wall of protection and falling to the floor. It was followed by a hollow-eyed spectre wearing rags, and then another, and another. Instead of attacking them, they ransacked the room, causing mayhem.