by TJ Green
Caspian wiped crumbs from his mouth. “I’m not so sure it will help, but what else are we going to do, locked up in here all day?”
Reuben looked at him, surprised. “I really want to know what we did that was so bad we’re being targeted all these years later. It must have been the mother of all spells! Big juju! And frankly, I don’t want to be stuck in here for months.”
“Don’t worry, I’m in. Your hospitality is great, but I prefer my own bed.”
“Then let’s do this, Caspian. Come on, before we even go up there, in an exercise in narrowing down our search, if you were to stop a murderous madman who was terrorising the country and risking your business right now, what would you do?”
“What would you do?” Caspian asked, slightly affronted. “I’m not the only one with magic.”
“But I’m charming and guileless,” Reuben said, his blue eyes wide and a huge smirk on his face. “I haven’t got a mean bone in my body. You’re the sneaky shit here, with the family history of making curses and holding momentous grudges.”
Okay, so they were at this stage in their strange truce.
“Fair point,” he grudgingly conceded. He took another bite of his sandwich and leaned back in his chair, running through his options while he chewed. The word truce resonated, and an idea struck him. “Okay, I’m a rich businessman who needs to bring my shipments in, but the damn pirates are trying to scuttle my ships and steal my goods. The man at the root of all my troubles is also threatening the locals, forcing them to work for him, and generally making the place hell. So, rather than plan an outright attack, because he has a lot of men, I decide to make a truce. In exchange for a cut of my profits, he allows my ships free passage. But,” Caspian gave a victorious smile, “I double-cross him. But not just him…his gang, too. I invite him and his men to a neutral venue, and spring the trap—with your help.”
“Why not just kill him, or curse him from a distance?”
“Because I want to do this in one big hit,” Caspian countered. “And I want to know that it worked. I want to see it!”
Reuben nodded. “I like it. It’s logical. But what do you do to trap them?”
“I use a cave, a smuggling cave, or a storage place somewhere. It has to be close—for both of us. When they’re trapped, I either kill them immediately, or leave them to a horrible, slow death. As you observed,” Caspian said, cutting his eyes at Reuben, “I’m a vindictive bastard, so it will be some kind of curse-inflicted agony.”
“That would be far more likely,” Reuben agreed. “You are mean.”
“Well, you helped me! You have a lot to lose too, remember. White Haven is overrun with smugglers, and you’re losing money!”
“But the stories say that Coppinger was seen rowing out to sea in a storm. No, hold on, rowing out from an island in a storm, to his big ship, where he was never seen again.”
Caspian nodded. “True, but it could just be a fanciful story.”
“Or—” Reuben leapt to his feet and started pacing, and Caspian almost spilled his coffee in surprise. “That’s exactly what happened! Why come to Harecombe, across country? I’d bring my ship, Black Prince, and weigh anchor off the coast, bringing some of my men ashore. But not all of them, because, frankly, rumours have reached me that you are a sneaky, not-to-be-trusted-businessman. That’s kind of why I like you—we’re the same.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“Or, maybe I think this is a sign of weakness, and I decide to pounce.” He rounded on Caspian and pointed at him. “You are offering a truce, but I want it all. I am Cruel Coppinger, the demon smuggler, used to having my own way. I decide to attack you!”
Caspian had to admit he was enjoying this ridiculous role play. It was fun, and actually productive. Clearly Reuben thought so too, as he strode about his kitchen, swishing his spatula like a sword. Caspian pointed back to Reuben. “But you, Cruel Coppinger, don’t know that I’ve enlisted the support of my neighbours, the do-gooding, simpering, too-terrified-to-say-boo, Jacksons.”
“Ha! You may think that’s an insult, but it’s to my advantage! I lure people in with charm, and then, a-ha, I attack like a ninja assassin! I flank the Cruel Gang, and add to your curse to overcome them.”
“I thought you were Cruel Coppinger?”
Reuben looked startled. “Oh yes, I am. Okay.” He paced again. “I come ashore to meet at the agreed rendezvous point, but some of my men have arrived before me and are laying in wait to attack you and your family…or whoever you bring with you. When you arrive, we go through the motions, until I feel the time is right, and then attack.”
“But I’m prepared, and at a given signal, the Jacksons attack, too.”
“Furious, and knowing I’m out-manoeuvred—but not out-gunned, because I have backup—I abandon my men, because I care more about me than them, and retreat.”
Caspian continued, “I go after you, but am delayed because of your men. We manage to kill or curse some of them, and then as soon as I can, I pursue you!”
“But I’m way ahead by now, though I daren’t take my boat…I’m a sitting duck, it’s too obvious. So, I flee into the tunnels.” Reuben looked at Caspian. “So this is where it gets murky.”
Caspian roared with laughter. “This is where it gets murky? I think the whole thing is bloody murky!”
“Oh, ye of little faith!” Reuben strode across the kitchen again. “I head down the nearest tunnels, because I know them all by now. I am a cunning pirate, the biggest badass of the sea, and I flee to where I don’t think anyone can find me…right under the sneaky Jacksons’ nose! Their own tunnels!”
Reuben stopped dramatising and turned to Caspian. “We were smugglers—in some way. I’m not sure why or how. I mean, you’re right…we were in trade. Maybe we thought we’d get better profits. Maybe we were coerced by Coppinger.”
Caspian shook his head. “You’re witches. You wouldn’t have been coerced. You might have thought it was a good deal—at first—and then realised that you got in bed with the devil.”
“No. That doesn’t work. We’d have still done something about it.”
Caspian looked at him thoughtfully. “You had your own smuggling business. Just some local-level stuff. You’re the lord of the manor, the simpering, do-gooding, look-after-your-own, look-after-the-village kind of family. Maybe Coppinger was moving in on you. Maybe he had something on you. And remember, you don’t do curses. You’re trying to manage it. You want my help.”
“You know, I think we’re close with this. Our reasoning is good.”
“I agree. And it could be that he fled to Gull Island. The stories talk about Gull Rock, but it might not be.”
“But we’ve both seen the caves on Gull Island,” Reuben said. “There are no rotting bones there, or treasure.”
Caspian met Reuben’s gaze, knowing they were both thinking of the fateful night of Gil’s death. “No, there weren’t. But there were a lot of old chests and crates in there. What if there’s a hidden tunnel under all that? Did you ever check?”
Reuben sat down as if all his energy had left him. “No. I only went back for the first time the other day.” Caspian felt as if the whole room had closed down around them and his heart raced as Reuben continued. “I still didn’t search it. I was there for some space, actually, after I learned that Alex had spoken to Gil in the spirit world.”
Caspian was suddenly unsure of what to say. He’d apologised before, but it had been short, in passing, something he was embarrassed to talk about. He was also scared of breaking whatever strange accommodation they had arrived at between them. And then he frowned. “Was that where you were attacked?”
“Yes, in the cave leading to the beach.”
“I didn’t see that one.”
“It’s just beyond the big one.”
Reuben’s face was carefully schooled, but Caspian was sure there was a lot going on beyond that calm exterior. He had another thought. “Where else has a lot of tunnels and is neutral ground?”<
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Reuben looked puzzled, and then said, “West Haven.”
“We didn’t explore all of those tunnels.”
“But the police did.”
“Did they? What if there was another disguised doorway, or access to another section. What if there’s another tunnel that leads to Gull island? Another cave?”
“Lupescu’s cave wasn’t it, that’s for sure,” Reuben pointed out.
Caspian remembered the attack from the night before. “I saw those spirits emerging from your glasshouse last night. What if the place where Cruel Coppinger was finally defeated was on Gull Island all along?”
They both looked out of the window to the small isle that lay draped in mist and drizzle.
Reuben spoke first. “Another cave.” He nodded and sighed. “We know goods were smuggled ashore there. The big cliff on the far side shelters the beach from the mainland. It’s possible.”
Caspian turned away from the view and focussed on Reuben again. “I would chase him down and finish him straight away. I wouldn’t allow him to regroup and strike back. And when I was done, I would hunt down his remaining men. Or just extend the curse to the rest of them.”
“And I’d be with you. Once we’d started this thing, there would be no going back. We had effectively started a war.”
“And if I couldn’t track down all of his men, which would be tricky,” Caspian admitted, “even with magic, I would curse his treasure, ensuring that anyone who tried to move it would die. Or something of the sort.”
“If we cursed the treasure, wouldn’t that mean it would still be cursed?” Reuben asked, looking through the door and into the snug where the old chests still sat.
Caspian eyed them warily too, and unable to detect anything remotely like magic coming from them said, “Maybe not the treasure, then. Just the men.”
“What about the ship? Did it get away, or did we sink it? Or did the storm do it?”
“Or did we summon the storm, and bring the ship down?” Caspian asked.
Reuben huffed out a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. “Wow. Double-crossing him and cursing his gang would be a very good reason to come after us now.”
“But don’t forget they’ve been enhanced somehow, probably by Mariah, who has to be the witch Gil detected walking in the spirit world. Maybe her family was involved all those years ago, and this is her chance to have her revenge on us?”
“Or maybe this is just opportunistic. They found out the connection to us, and decided to have fun.” Reuben sighed. “Whatever. We need to stop them—for good. They’re strong, in the spirit world, too. They’ve captured Helena.”
Caspian nodded. “So I gather, and set Gil in action. Of course, the other option is that the curse tied them to the treasure, or their bones, meaning they couldn’t rest.” He frowned. “Seems short-sighted though. You’d want them gone forever.” He stood and carried his plate to the sink. “Come on, Reuben. Enough maybes. Let’s find this damn spell and work out what they did. You’re right, it’s the key. Then, I think we need to head out there.”
His gaze lingered on the island in the mist, sure that somewhere under it lay the answers to Coppinger’s doom.
Chapter 23
After thirty minutes of slow progress through narrow tunnels, El wondered again why she’d volunteered to come with Newton.
Wheal Droskyn, which was the name of the tin mine at Droskyn Point in Perranporth, was one of the oldest in Cornwall, parts of it estimated to be 2,000 years old. Fortunately, the oldest workings were shallow, but that didn’t make the experience any better. The newer parts went much deeper, with shafts that dropped deep into the earth, one leading into a cave that was known to have been used for smuggling in the past.
El was dressed in jeans and boots, complete with a hard hat, for which she was very grateful. The tunnel was low in places, and they had to duck and squirm through tight passages, watching their every step. In the end only the four of them had gone in, and Newton had left two constables outside the entrance to stop anyone from following. Jethro Carter, their guide through the mines, was at the front, followed by Newton, and Moore was behind her.
El’s headlamp illuminated the stonework, some of which was stained blue from thin seams of copper deposits, although this was mined predominantly for tin. She wished she could use a witch-light, but Jethro’s presence made it impossible. Jethro had expressed disbelief that anything was hidden in here, explaining that because the oldest mines were easily accessed by the narrow path along the cliffs, many people had explored here over the years. The newer, deeper sections were sealed off on the whole. Although, he did say there were a couple of access points through narrow shafts. All of the mine workings above ground had long since been pulled down, and major shafts had been capped for safety.
They reached an intersection of tunnels and Jethro paused to pull out his map, addressing them as he did so. “The way to the left is where our particular adit accesses, but as I said, I doubt you’ll find anything there. This area has been explored countless times, and there are certainly no remnants of treasure.” He frowned at them. “I’ve been down here, admittedly years ago now, and I never saw anything, either. Unless, of course, someone hid something more recently.”
Newton shook his head. “No, I doubt that. But whether anything’s there or not, I do want to try and find where the girl could have been.”
Before they entered the mine, Newton had told Jethro some very basic information, but the lack of clarity was obviously very frustrating for him. While they talked, El extended her magic, trying to sense a supernatural presence, but so far all she could feel was cold, damp air, and the metals that were layered through the earth. In the pockets of her coat were a piece of Shadow’s fey armour and a few fey coins, for bribery purposes, but she hoped she wouldn’t have to use them. It struck her that mines would be a natural place for spriggans to be, considering the metals that were all around them.
Moore was silent, as usual, just staring around the space suspiciously. He looked as tired as Newton. Both of them had thick stubble and shadows under their eyes as if they hadn’t slept for days, and El was sure that Moore had been as affected by Inez’s death as Newton.
“Keep going left,” Newton said, finally ending their discussion, and Jethro turned and led the way again.
They passed dark entrances—crawl spaces, really, that El peered down nervously—but Jethro ignored them, leading them deeper and deeper as he explained that they had reached a newer section of the mine. The tunnels were shored up in places with huge wooden beams, but they bulged alarmingly at some points, while other areas dripped with moisture.
“You’re lucky,” he said to them as they walked. “Many newer areas are inaccessible, unless you have climbing equipment. These hills are riddled with shafts.” They entered a large cave, the deeper parts running to their right, and he took out a flare and lit it, hurling it into the darkness where it illuminated a pool of water and a dark exit at the end. “Through there are shafts filled with water. It’s treacherous. The part we’re heading to is dry.” He looked at all three of them. “Are you sure you want to go on?”
“A woman has died,” Newton said abruptly. “Yes, I do.”
They eventually reached a big, barred gate that lead to another area of the mine, and Jethro swore.
“Someone has broken the padlock.”
“What?” Newton pushed him aside.
The gate was rudimentary, set into the rock wall to block the narrow tunnel that led deeper into the earth. A chain and padlock had secured it, but it now hung loose, the chain cut cleanly through.
Newton turned to El, his expression saying everything before he nodded at Jethro. “It means we’re on the right track, then. Go on, but slowly!”
Jethro was a man in his fifties, with grey hair, a grizzled beard, and a gruff manner. He wielded a heavy, handheld torch as well as his headlamp, and he hefted the former like a weapon before heading down the passage. El glanced at Moor
e, but as usual he looked inscrutable and just waved El ahead of him.
“Do you want me to go first, Newton?” she asked him.
He shook his head. “No, but stay sharp.”
They progressed deeper, passing other passageways, and El quickly lost her way. This was terrifying. If something happened to Jethro, who was clearly very comfortable with finding his way down here, they could be lost forever.
Eventually, he called over his shoulder, “We’re nearly there. The adit runs off this tunnel.”
The tunnel widened and the roof lifted, finally bringing them to a larger area. However, when they reached it, Jethro swore again. “What the bloody hell?” He trailed off, looking dumbstruck at a hole in the rock face. “That’s new.”
“It is?” Newton asked, excited.
“Absolutely. I haven’t seen it before. Look at the edges where the stone has been broken, and the new rock fall.”
He was right. Although rocks of various sizes were strewn across the ground, some of them had edges that weren’t discoloured by age, and the border of the new hole in the wall looked fresh, too.
Jethro pointed to the dark, low tunnel to the side and crouched, shining his torch down it. “You can see daylight down there. That’s the beach. It carries water out of here. As you can see from the damp ground, it can get very wet in here. We’re lucky it’s only drizzling.”
El crouched, spying a tiny pinprick of light at the far end. This is where it happened. Jasmine was killed here.
She stood quickly, extending her magic perception, again searching for something supernatural, or the ancient magic that Avery said she’d felt, but nothing seemed out of place, and she shook her head at Newton, who watched her carefully. He nodded, directing Jethro to keep to the side, and after flashing his torch light across the ground, stuck his head through the newly-made hole. El stood next to him. Their torchlight illuminated another cave beyond, and at the far side, on a rudimentary rock shelf, were the remnants of old, wooden chests.