by TJ Green
The cool stone against his back was soothing, calming his thoughts as he regarded the jumble of old crates and barrels. Another of his ancestors’ secrets was smuggling. Maybe his subconscious had known what he needed after all. He remembered the coins that had been thrown at Avery on Sunday, and the death of the man on the beach. Were those events really related to smuggling?
Reuben stood and headed to the old wooden crates, lifting the lids on a few to find nothing but dust and sand. These would have been here since the late 1700s or early 1800s. His family must have been heavily involved in the local smuggling industry; after all, the access to this cave was under the glasshouse. They’d joked about it last year, and then he hadn’t really given it a second thought. But now he wondered who was involved? It would be easy enough to find out. Anne Somersby had done the family trees of all the witches. He could match up the dates to known names.
Seized by a sudden urge to look at the sea, he left the cavern and trudged up the narrow passage to the smaller cave. No one had been down here since the events last year, and he could still see the jumble of footprints in places in the earth. He quickly found the mechanism that released the door into the next cave and pushed it open, stepping onto soft sand. A strip of daylight pierced through the gap in the wall opposite him. The sound of crashing waves reverberated in the bare space, and he inhaled the strong smell of the sea, smiling as it lifted his spirits. He felt his magic respond to the water, his natural element, and was about to walk to the beach beyond, when he felt something.
Reuben paused, feeling as if someone was watching him. He pressed his back to the rock wall behind him, scanning the space, but there was no place to hide here.
His peripheral vision picked up a flicker of light to his right, and he whirled around, seeing the faintest outline of a lantern containing a warm, yellow flame before something struck his chest. His head cracked off the wall and he fell, winded, to his knees. A strong, weather-beaten hand materialised in front of him, grabbing his t-shirt at the throat and lifting him up so that Reuben’s feet were swinging off the ground. Bad breath hit him like a punch, and without waiting to see what happened next, Reuben lashed out with his magic, sending a blast of pure energy at his unseen attacker.
It retreated, and Reuben fell awkwardly. Remembering one of the basic banishing spells Alex had taught them, he cast it at the shadow that hovered on the far side of the cave.
Unfortunately, the spell wasn’t strong enough, and the spirit hadn’t finished with him yet. It swelled, broad-shouldered and malevolent, and from the middle of its bulk, Reuben saw a flash of steel as a weapon came whirring across the cave.
Reuben rolled and tried to cast a circle of protection around him, but he wasn’t quick enough. The dagger embedded in his shoulder, skewering a tattered, ragged piece of paper. The blade burned like fire, and gritting his teeth, Reuben wrenched it out of his flesh to use in defence.
But before the shadowy figure could advance any further, another figure manifested between them, a shape so familiar to him that Reuben froze in shock.
Gil.
He swiftly advanced on Reuben’s unknown attacker with a whirl of darkness and magic. They clashed, melding into one, the fury of their encounter reverberating around the cavern. Stunned, Reuben struggled to identify who was winning before they suddenly vanished, leaving only a scattering of gold coins behind in the sand.
Reuben just sat there, wincing with pain and breathing heavily, adrenalin keeping him poised to attack, but only the sound of the distant surf broke the silence. Blood poured from his wound, but he ignored it. The pain in his chest was far worse as the tightness of grief took over, so powerful he suddenly couldn’t breathe. When he did finally inhale, it was a shuddering, ragged effort that shook his entire body.
For what seemed like endless minutes, he just sat there, shaking. Gil had saved his life. And he couldn’t even thank him. As he wrested control of his body, Reuben took deep breaths to steady his nausea, and then leaned forward to pick up the paper that had fallen next to him. A wave of dizziness dulled his vision, but he staggered to the far exit that was bathed in daylight. Inhaling the fresh sea air, he looked at the blood-stained paper in his fingers.
Written in an ornate script were the words: Blood will be my vengeance.
Newton shone his torch along the dark tunnel and frowned.
“Inez, I’m not sure we should go on. The walls are crumbling quite badly here.”
She paused next to him, her own torch flashing around the roof and along the ground. “But look, footprints. This is the way they came.”
He turned to look at her determined face. “That doesn’t mean it’s safe. They were after treasure. We aren’t. I quite like being alive.”
They had been walking through the uneven, musty passage for about five minutes, moving steadily inland from what Newton could tell. The tunnel turned in places, disorientating him, so he wasn’t completely sure, but the slope was ascending, hopefully towards a near exit.
“But Newton, it can’t be much further,” Inez argued. “This could give us a real clue as to who broke into these chests.”
“Could it? Or will their transport and any sign of them be long gone?”
“Yes, that’s likely, but they might have left evidence at the other end. We might even get a clear footprint! Not like these sludgy ones that we can see here. They’re so trampled, they’re unusable.”
Inez slipped past him, taking the lead, and although Newton felt he should order her back, he was also torn. He liked Inez’s enthusiasm. She was very different to Moore’s calm and even-tempered approach.
In places there were trickles of water down the tunnel walls, and the air was damp and stale. Newton couldn’t help but wonder how often this place had been used in the past. At intervals he paused to examine the thick, wooden beams overhead, and the sturdy supports along the side. This passage had obviously been shored up at least once. But, he also thought that it had started out as a natural rock passage that had been enhanced over time.
The sound of Inez’s footfalls vanished, and he shouted, “Inez, wait!” He hurried to catch up, noting the passageway had turned up ahead. He couldn’t even see Inez’s torchlight.
A scream broke the silence and Newton ran, forgetting any pretence of being careful. He rounded the corner, but the passageway snaked onwards, and over the sound of his pounding feet he heard an ominous thump and the slither of falling rock.
Shit. Had she triggered a landslide? Had the tunnel collapsed? Suddenly wary of being buried alive, he slowed, rounding the bend ahead cautiously, and then blinked with shock.
The passage had widened, and outlined in the bright beam of light from Inez’s fallen torch, something small dashed across his path, rasping and wheezing in a distinctly non-human way. He whipped around, trying to see the figure. It leapt at him and he instinctively swung his torch, his only weapon, connecting with something hard. He heard a solid crack and the impact shuddered up his arm. An anguished grunt and hiss made his skin crawl, and then the figure skittered away. Without stopping to think of what he’d just encountered, Newton dashed forward, seeing Inez’s body lying on the ground beyond her torch.
He crouched over her, shouting her name. But as her head flopped heavily towards him, he saw that her skull was crushed and her eyes were lifeless.
Inez was dead.
Chapter 11
Alex searched the first floor of Caspian’s house, hoping he would find something to indicate who had attacked Caspian while Avery was gone.
However, so far he’d found nothing, and his attention wandered as he searched. The last time he’d been in this house was when Sebastian, Caspian’s father, had still been alive. They’d broken in to get Reuben’s grimoire and Sebastian had died at Helena’s hands. It was hard to believe that was almost a year ago. So much had changed since then. For a start, Caspian had been their enemy, and now he was a friend…of sorts. Alex doubted he would ever really consider him one, especially s
ince he’d made it pretty clear he wanted Avery. Alex was a confident man, always had been, within reason. But there was no doubt that Avery was flattered by Caspian’s attention. She was far from shallow, but the big house and impressive bank account was something he couldn’t compete with. Caspian was also a powerful witch, and clearly charming enough when he wanted to be. Bastard.
Alex tried to subdue his worry. He loved Avery, adored her, and he knew she loved him. He hoped that would be enough.
Her voice startled him as she called from the hallway. “Alex, where are you?”
“In here—one of the bedrooms,” he shouted, heading to the door.
But in seconds she’d entered the room, looking at him with concern. Avery was truly beautiful, he reflected. Her pale skin and red hair were stunning, and she had the sweetest, gentlest smile—plus a wicked temper, on occasions. She was also clever and sharp-witted. He liked that. He didn’t want a simpering girlfriend, he never had.
“How’s Caspian?” he asked her.
“I didn’t linger. I waited until Eli arrived to help Briar and then left them to it, but he didn’t look good.” She grabbed his hand. “I didn’t wait because I was worried about leaving you alone here.”
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’m fine.
“No more spirits?”
“None.”
“Have you found anything?”
He shook his head. “No, not really. Any protection spells Caspian had on this place have vanished.”
“Maybe they were overloaded? Or another witch destroyed them?”
He grimaced. “Maybe. It’s weird. I can’t even find a trace of them.”
Avery wrinkled her nose. “I can smell brine! And I see there’s sand down the hallway.” She tried to laugh. “At least Helena is not this messy.”
Alex noticed a mark on Avery’s neck, and pushed her hair back. “There are finger marks on your throat! What happened?”
“While you were being tackled, I was attacked from behind.” Her hands touched the marks and she shuddered. “Horrible, cold hands. Helena can’t touch me! How are these spirits so strong?”
“Good question,” he said. “And one I have no answer to—yet. I presume that witch is making them stronger than normal, and is potentially behind this.” He’d been pondering that ever since Avery had left. Of all the witches, he was the most skilled at banishing ghosts and negotiating the spirit world, but right now, he felt inadequate.
Avery glanced around the richly appointed room, looking uneasy. “We should leave. I feel like we’re snooping, and if we can’t find anything…”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “But before we go, follow me. It’s a good job you came to look for Caspian when you did.” He walked across the room, down the hall, and back into Caspian’s room, Avery trailing behind him. He pointed at the jeans and t-shirt on the bed. “He was wearing his gym gear, wasn’t he? I reckon he’d gone running or something, and he’d been attacked after that. Maybe just before lunch.”
“That makes sense,” Avery said thoughtfully. “But who would attack him? And why?”
“Something else I have no answer to,” he told her. “Is the council meeting tonight? You said you’d spoken to Genevieve, right?”
“Yes, of course!” Avery looked surprised. “I’d almost forgotten that. We’ll meet at Crag’s End as usual. Bloody hell, Sally and Dan will have no idea where I am!” She checked her phone for the time. “It’s after four. I’ll ring them in a minute, but I’ll take you to the pub first?”
“Please,” Alex nodded. He took her hand, realising he’d been very abrupt with her on the phone. “I’m sorry if I shouted earlier. I was worried that you’d get hurt coming here alone. And,” he voiced what he really thought, “I hate you being alone with Caspian. But you know that.”
“I know you do. Don’t you trust me?” Her eyes narrowed with a spark of anger, and disappointment too, he realised.
“Of course I do!” He didn’t know how to describe what he felt. And then it struck him and his anger boiled to the surface. “I just hate the way he flirts with you all the time. It pisses me off! It shows an utter disrespect for me. He’s point-scoring, and he uses you to do it. I hate that, too.”
Avery nodded, and her expression softened. “You’re right, he does. Sorry. I won’t let him do that again. But he is still our friend, and right now he’s in a bad way at Briar’s. With luck, Eli will have found a way to contact Estelle, and we need to go. Ready?”
He pulled her close and kissed her, leaving her breathless, and then he grinned, happy to know he could still bring a flush to her cheeks. “Yes. Let’s get out of here.”
Within seconds they were back in Alex’s flat, and he fell to his knees as the expected nausea and dizziness hit him. At least it lasted only mere seconds now. Her hand appeared in front of his face. He grabbed it, and she hauled him back to his feet, saying, “Come on, cowboy. We must be due a glass of something after that.”
“All right. I’ll stand you a glass of wine.”
Before the words had even left his mouth, Alex felt his phone buzz in his pocket and then it started to ring, and at the same time so did Avery’s. He frowned and headed across the room to answer, telling Avery, “It’s Newton.”
“I’ve got El,” she said, answering quickly as she turned away, too.
“Hey Newton,” Alex said, looking out at the sea from the kitchen window. “How’s it going?”
“Badly. Very badly.”
Newton sounded grimmer and angrier than he’d ever heard him—in recent months, at least. He’d yelled at Alex often enough when they first met. Alex’s stomach twisted and he glanced at Avery, hoping his friends were okay, but she was still talking too, her brow furrowed.
“What’s happened?”
“Inez Walker is dead.”
“What? How?” An image of Inez flashed into Alex’s mind, replacing the view in front of him, and he leaned against the counter behind him in shock.
“Something jumped us in the tunnel; she was alone and I wasn’t there. Fuck it! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Newton sounded on the edge, as if his voice was about to break.
Alex overcame his momentary shock. “I’m so sorry, Newton. What can I do?”
“You can find what the fuck this damn creature is that crushed her skull!” he shouted.
“Of course! But I meant, what I can do for you? Where are you?” Alex was more worried about the living than the dead at this moment.
Newton took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. “I’m with Moore, at the station, but I’ve only just arrived here. I’ve been at the bloody site all afternoon.”
“What site?”
“The place where the sinkhole collapsed into the cave. Looe.”
“Come to the pub when you’re done. We can talk. Pints are on me.”
“I don’t think I’ll be good company.”
Alex knew Newton wouldn’t have called if he wanted to be alone. “You can stare into your pint all night if you want. Just come. I have news for you, too.”
“What is it?” Newton asked, his voice suddenly sharp.
“Not now. Later.” If anything, he knew that would make Newton come round. “You’ve got enough to worry about now. And look, I really am sorry. She seemed a nice woman.”
“She was, and she didn’t deserve that. I’ll see you later.”
Alex ended the call, but he barely had time to get over his shock when Avery shouted to him across the room. “Alex!”
He turned. “What else has happened?”
“Reuben has been stabbed by a ghost! Just like Caspian.”
“What? Is he okay?” Reuben was his best mate. The knot in his stomach tightened.
“Yes, he’s with Briar now. Want to come with me? It’s just a shoulder wound,” she added, “so he’s okay-ish.” Avery crossed the room to him, frowning. “What did Newton want?”
That needed to wait. “Let’s get to Briar’s shop first.”
; And in seconds, his guts were in his boots as they used witch-flight once again.
Avery took in Briar’s herb room, sighing with relief when she saw Reuben sitting on a chair, shirtless. El was next to him, pale and distracted, pressing a dressing into his right shoulder. Briar and Eli were working at the counter.
“Reuben! Are you okay?”
He smiled ruefully. “Not too bad, considering I’ve been stabbed.” He nodded at Alex behind her, and then to Caspian lying prone on the couch. “I think I’m doing better than those two.”
“Cheeky sod,” Alex said, bent almost double as he inhaled deeply. “I bloody hate witch-flight. Who did you piss off?”
“Some hulking bloody spirit on Gull Island.” He started to shrug and then winced. “Ow. Bastard threw a knife at me and I wasn’t quick enough to block it.” He looked across at Caspian again. “At least I fared better than him.”
Briar had been measuring out dried herbs, but she paused and glared at him. “You’ve still been stabbed!” She nodded at Eli. “It’s a good thing we closed the shop. We’ve turned into a hospital.”
Eli laughed grimly, but concentrated on whatever he was making in a bowl, his hands grinding something with a pestle.
“It wasn’t all that happened, though, was it, Reuben?” El said, her eyes serious as she watched him. “Gil appeared.”
Reuben stiffened, his gaze falling to the floor, and when he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “He saved my life.”
“Gil?” Avery’s voice sounded shrill with surprise, and she made an effort to calm herself. “He actually appeared?”
“Sort of.” Reuben looked broken, although he was trying his best to hide it. “He was a barely-there shape, to be honest, but I recognised him straight away. He tackled the other spirit and then they just disappeared. I couldn’t even thank him.”