by TJ Green
Avery.
It didn’t matter what he did, his thoughts always circled back to her. He saw her in his mind’s eye. Her pale, freckle-dusted skin, red hair, and laughing green eyes. She was strong, yet so kind, and he saw a determination within her not to give up on their friendship, despite his feelings. A dull ache returned in his heart. That kind of thinking would do no good.
A strange noise disturbed his thoughts, and suddenly awake, he sat up in bed. But the room was silent, and he felt the weight of the protection spell wrapping around the house like a warm blanket. Earlier that evening, they had combined their magic, adding another layer of protection that repelled ghosts. Nothing was entering Reuben’s house uninvited.
He heard the noise again, but it was coming from the garden. He got out of bed and padded to the window, pulling back the heavy curtains to look over the long lawns at the back of the house. The noise was louder there, a kind a whispering or shushing that had nothing to do with the surf crashing on the cliffs at the garden’s edge. Something shimmered to his right, and he focussed on the glasshouse, dappled in moonlight. A spectral body emerged from the shadows, accompanied by a dull clinking. It seemed to limp, or rather, lurch across the garden. And then there was another, and another. They were half-formed ghosts that seemed to hover between worlds. One of them looked up and Caspian stepped back, alarmed, but it was too late. It had seen him, and it fixed him with a malignant grin as a shaft of moonlight fell on it fully.
It was the ghost of a smuggler, dressed in nineteenth-century clothes, the glint of metal in his hands, and fire in his eyes. Next to him, his fellow looters lined up, half a dozen in all, looking up at his window. Then they separated as they made their way towards the house.
Caspian’s mouth went dry. They were planning to attack.
Chapter 19
Alex insisted on leading the way down the steep stairway that led into blackness. A witch-light bobbed ahead of him, revealing rough-hewn walls and stone steps worn smooth from the passage of many feet.
They had blanketed the tunnel entrance with a protection spell, although they hoped that in the woods in the middle of the night, no one would find it. Fire was balled in Alex’s hands and he cautiously advanced, Avery on his heels. The air was stale, but every now and again he smelled the sea.
Avery whispered, “This must go down to the beach!”
“It also must have blocked access through, or everyone would know about this.”
The lights caused their shadows to flicker wildly, and Alex proceeded slowly, wary of attack by a supernatural creature. But so far, nothing stirred. Eventually they reached a short passage, and there they had to make a decision. Steps headed downwards again, but another passageway branched to the left.
“Shit. Which way?” he said to Avery.
She threw a witch-light down the passage, watching as it illuminated around a bend.
Her eyes gleamed. “That could lead to St Catherine’s Castle. It’s the right direction—I think. If I’m not utterly disorientated.”
He nodded. “I think you’re right.”
“But I suggest down first. Then, depending what we find, we go there next.”
Alex was already pointing his torch down the steps, sending another witch-light ahead. It revealed more uneven rock walls and smooth steps, and also something else. He frowned. The darkness stirred below.
“Avery,” he whispered, retreating into her, “I think there’s something down there.”
“There’s something the other way, too. I can feel it.”
“What? Where?”
Hardly daring to turn away from whatever was below him, he followed Avery’s stare. Alarmed, Alex saw the witch-light still visible at the bend, and in its pale illumination, a shadow stretched and changed, becoming outlandishly large in the tight space. He glanced down the stairs, horrified to see something approaching from down there, too.
“Shit, Avery, we need to back up—”
Before he could even finish his sentence, the unknown attacker was streaking up the stairs, and without hesitation, Alex hurled a fireball.
In seconds, chaos erupted as they fought off their attackers.
A small but surprisingly strong creature had smacked into Alex’s chest, throwing him to the ground. The ugliest, wizened little creature was furiously grappling with him, and wild eyes stared into his. It grabbed Alex’s head between its strong hands and squeezed. Terrified his brains were about to be turned to mush, Alex thrust a powerful surge of magic under the creature, and threw it against the rocky ceiling, pinning it there while it writhed with frustration, snapping and snarling like a rapid dog.
“You didn’t expect that, did you?” Alex yelled.
Avery was engaged in her own battle next to him, rolling down the tunnel in a blur of limbs. But he couldn’t help her, not yet.
From out of nowhere, the spriggan—because that’s what Alex was sure it was—produced a giant club and swung it wildly, narrowly missing Alex’s head. Its shadow stretched and elongated, and its shadow-arms reached for Alex’s throat. With horror, Alex realised he could feel the cold, clammy fingers on his skin, and he grasped one of the shadow-limbs with his free hand, trying to loosen its steely grip.
What the hell kind of power did this creature have?
Alex quickly decided that guile was needed, not strength. Mentally rifling through his store of spells, he uttered one to send the spriggan to sleep. At first it didn’t seem to work, but he repeated it, full of intent and conviction, and with a snap, the creature fell unconscious and Alex let it drop to the floor. He turned to see if he could help Avery, but she had finally succeeded in wrapping her attacker in a twisting mini-tornado, and it whirled in place, a bundle of limbs and shrieks as it tried to break free. Alex levelled his spell at it, and within seconds it too fell unconscious, and Avery lowered the creature to the ground.
Avery was lying on the floor, covered in dirt. “Bloody hell! They are strong! They look like Gollum in Lord of the Rings!”
Alex laughed and pulled her to her feet. “Did it whisper ‘my precious’ to you?”
“Fortunately not, but it was a vicious little thing.” She dusted herself down, and eyed their slumped bodies suspiciously. “What did you do to them?”
“Put them to sleep. I couldn’t bring myself to kill them.” He walked over to one and crouched to examine it. “It really does look like a little old man, except for the weirdly large baby head. They have to be spriggans!”
Avery joined him, tentatively turning it over with her foot. “I agree. Look at its scrawny little limbs. How can it be so strong?”
“Maybe they really are the ghosts of giants in some strange, miniature form? That one produced a club from nowhere and tried to smash my head with it. And its shadow could grab me, too!”
“And they can manipulate their shadows to grow. It’s no wonder Inez and the other victims didn’t stand a chance, if that’s what they faced!” She frowned at Alex. “How long will your spell hold?”
“A couple of hours I hope, but let’s bind them with magic, too.”
“I hate to say this, but they’re too dangerous to keep alive.”
“They’ve lived down here long enough without causing harm. It’s only because we’ve disturbed them.”
“True.” But Avery still looked worried. “Let’s bind them for now, and see what’s down here. If they’re still here, then maybe there’s treasure. Potentially, we could use another type of binding spell to restrict their strength long term.”
They worked quickly, binding both spriggans with strong webs of magic, and hoping there were no more waiting for them, headed down the steps.
El stood next to Briar, Reuben, Caspian and Ash, staring through the patio doors in the snug, out to the back garden. Briar had opted to stay over that night, weary after her healing spells.
“I can’t see a thing,” Reuben confessed.
“Trust me. There were at least half a dozen,” Caspian said.
They had all thr
own on jeans and t-shirts, and El and Ash clasped the Empusa’s swords.
“I can’t see them, even with my sword,” El said. She stepped closer to the window, trying to see down the side of the house. “The good thing is, our protection feels strong. They won’t get in.”
Ash shook his head. “I still don’t like it. They’re planning something.”
“They can plan all they want.” Reuben looked coolly confident. “What are they going to do? Attack my roses?”
“They could attack the greenhouses and the nursery,” Ash said, looking at him thoughtfully. “That’s your livelihood, and you employ a lot of people—including me! Or, they could creep into the town.”
Caspian’s arms were folded across his chest as he stared at the garden. “It’s interesting that they seemed to come from your glasshouse, and that there are so many of them. Maybe our ancestors wrecked the ship that supposedly carried Coppinger away and killed all of the pirates, not just him. Perhaps the wreck is close by?”
“Good suggestions,” Reuben said nodding. “But, it still doesn’t answer why they’re active now.”
El looked between them, still unable to believe that Reuben had extended his hospitality to Caspian and that they were both under the same roof. Reaching a truce was one thing, but this was something else entirely. And Caspian was different too, in a way that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. But there would be time enough for speculation afterwards.
El pulled a hair tie out of her jeans pocket and quickly wrapped her hair into a high ponytail. “I don’t feel comfortable knowing that they’re out there and we’re doing nothing. Why don’t we head out, Ash, and get rid of them?” She raised her sword and grinned.
Ash smiled, lighting up his handsome Greek face. “I think that’s an excellent suggestion.” He looked pointedly at Caspian and Reuben. “You two must stay here. Briar can guard you.”
“I don’t like that suggestion at all! I’m not a bloody invalid!” Reuben said, outraged.
“Actually, that’s exactly what you are,” Briar pointed out, hands on her hips.
Reuben looked as if he wanted to say something very rude to Briar, but he turned and glowered at El again. “What’s with you? Have you got some sort of death wish?”
She knew he felt useless because of his shoulder, and tried not to snap. “Of course not. I have magic and the Empusa’s sword. We’ll be able to see them! Don’t you trust my abilities?” She cocked her head to the side, amused.
Reuben tried to speak, but got all tongue-tied. He glared at her, eventually admitting, “Of course I do.”
“There we go, then. And besides, if they try to get in by breaching one point, you three need to stop them. This is our safe retreat!”
“Don’t worry, we can handle it,” Briar said, not giving Reuben a chance to respond.
Ash and Caspian watched the exchange with amusement, and Ash said, “Great. It’s settled, then. Allow me.”
He unlocked the door and exited. El followed, blowing a kiss at Reuben as she did. He gave her one last, furious glare before locking the door behind them.
Avery studied the small cave at the bottom of the steps, disappointed.
“No treasure!”
“But there are bones!” Alex pointed to a corner of the cave where a jumble of bones and a skull rested, rotten clothing still visible.
“Wow!” Avery hurried over, hoping a spirit wasn’t about to emerge and attack them. “His weapons are still here!”
Next to the bones were a rusting dagger and flintlock, lying on the sand.
Alex grinned at her. “Brilliant! An actual pirate’s body!” He surveyed the space and gestured to a wall of rock through which they could hear the crash of the waves. “There’s no access to the sea.”
“Yes, there is. Look, a pool of water at the base of the rock.” It was almost imperceptible in the darkness, and they hurried over to investigate. Avery shone her torch into the water. “I bet this feeds into a sheltered cove, right under the cliff face, and I would also bet it’s only a short passage. This is so cool!”
“We should come in the daylight sometime. Maybe use Ulysses or Nils to bring us here. But for now, let’s go up the other passage.”
After a quick sweep of the cave to ensure they hadn’t missed anything, they hurried along the next tunnel, passing the unconscious and bound spriggans, soon arriving at the base of more steps leading upwards. Before Alex had time to push ahead in his protective way, Avery headed upwards, eager to see what was at the top. After a steep rise, she came to a small square landing and a heavy wooden door.
“This is old!” Alex observed. “Maybe as old as the castle. Which was what? Fifteenth century?”
“Sixteenth,” Avery told him, examining the thick iron bands that bound the wood. “Dan said it was built in Henry VIII’s time, like a lot of the castles in Cornwall, once we’d left the Catholic Church.”
Although St Catherine’s Castle was smaller than many, more of a keep really, it had served to protect the Fowey estuary and was perched on the rocky promontory, affording good views of the town and sea. It had also been used in the Second World War. While they talked they tried to open the door, but it was shut tight.
“Is there any suggestion of dungeons or cellars below the castle?” Alex asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Maybe we’re under another building? Or it’s just a cave?”
“I think it’s time to use a little magic to find out.”
Avery laid her hand over the ornate keyhole and used a spell to unlock it. Then, running her hands around the edges, she loosened the swollen and buckled wood and together they pushed the heavy door open. A wave of musty, damp air hit them.
The witch-light glided ahead, revealing a cavernous space, on the far side of which were three heavy wooden chests, all bound with iron. Next to them were casks of varying sizes, and bundles of rotting cloth.
Alex couldn’t keep the glee out of his voice. “Herne’s bloody horns! Pirate treasure.”
Chapter 20
El and Ash crept to the left, along the side of the house, pausing to peer cautiously around the corner.
“I can’t see them,” Ash confessed, pulling his t-shirt off as he spoke.
For a moment, El couldn’t work out what he was doing, and quite frankly was trying not to be distracted by his muscled chest. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on his face, reflecting that actually Reuben’s physique was more than a match, which made her feel a little smug.
“What are you doing?” she asked him.
“Flying, of course.”
In a flash, enormous wings erupted from his shoulders, and El blinked with shock. While she knew the Nephilim had wings, and had seen them from a distance, she had never been so close before.
“Holy crap. They’re impressive.” Ash’s wings were a beautiful golden brown, or at least they appeared to be in the moonlight.
“Thanks,” he said, with a knowing smile. “I’m sure I’ll spot them from up there. I’ll keep an eye on you, too.”
“You won’t need to,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “But thanks, and good luck.”
She watched Ash soar upwards, and then kept heading left towards the far corner of the house. Greenlane Manor has been added to over the years, so that although the main building was medieval, there were other, more modern additions, and by that she meant Elizabethan and Victorian, giving the building odd angles and a quirky layout.
For a few minutes, she couldn’t see a single ghost, not even in the distance, and was beginning to think they were either at the nursery, or that the sword wasn’t working. And then up ahead, in a small courtyard edged with service rooms, she spied a couple of ghosts looking as real as she did. Well, sort of. They were blinking in and out like a weak signal, and El realised they were trying to pass through the walls of the house, but were being blocked by the protection spell. The section of wall shimmered with each attempted breach, and she grinned. Their spells had work
ed.
Without hesitating, she ran, sword raised. Before they were aware of her presence, she attacked from behind, slashing across the back of one, and then as he turned, fury etched onto his ravaged face, she slashed across his belly too, before plunging the blade in. With an unearthly shriek, the spirit completely vanished. But before she could attack the second, it charged her, tackling her to the ground and raising its knife. El punched out with a ball of fire and air, knocking it backwards, and then while it was spread-eagled against the wall behind, plunged the sword into his stomach.
A whirl of activity in her peripheral vision caught her attention, and she spun around in time to see another spirit run at her from the old stables. He was short but stocky, with a full, dirty beard and ragged clothing. He hurled a knife at her and she swatted it away with magic, and then he pulled a nasty-looking sword from its scabbard. With a leering grin he rasped at her, his strong, Cornish accent and old dialect making him almost impossible to understand.
“So, young maid, ye seek to fight old Tom Trenary? I’ll give ye a fight ye won’t forget.” He swished the blade in front of him, daring her.
For a moment, El was tempted to blast him away with magic like she had the other two.
But this could be fun.
She returned his grin and raised her sword. “All right, old man. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Alex gazed at the hoard of gold, coins, and jewellery in the chests they had broken apart, and couldn’t stop his mouth from falling open. He couldn’t believe that after all their speculation they had actually found treasure.
“By the Gods! This is worth a small fortune!”
Avery dipped her hands into one of them, like a cup, and lifted out a pile of golden guineas, her eyes wide with excitement. “Wow. Actual pirate treasure!”
They had thrown several witch-lights up, and the gold and jewels glittered in their light.
“We have to declare this.”