by TJ Green
“Sure.” She rummaged in her bag and thrust a bundle of dried herbs at Avery. “It’s my own blend, similar to what we used at Beltane.”
Avery lit the smudge stick with a spark of magic, and as she and Alex made their way back to the attic, they worked a cleansing spell, flushing the remaining toxic energies away, and saving the last of it to purify Reuben’s attic. They eyed Caspian’s grimoire warily, edging as close as they could around the protection spell.
“I have never seen a spell like that before,” Alex said, half admiringly, half fearful.
“It reminds me a bit of your rune spell,” Avery admitted, thinking of how the runes lit up the air and wrapped around their victim.
The words were whirling above the pages, the lines of text writhing around each other and showing no signs of slowing down.
“True.” He leaned closer, squinting at the spell.
“Can you make out any words?” she asked Alex.
“It’s old, I know that. The English is old-fashioned from the odd word I can make out, but the page itself is blank—as if the words have lifted clean off it. And I think I can see water swirling around, too. Briar was telling me the whole attic felt like it was underwater when she arrived.”
Avery stared into the words, mesmerised, seeing dark blues mixed in with the green at its heart, the spell pulsing and throwing off sparks. “It’s like the spell is underwater.”
Alex met her eyes briefly. “I think you’re right. I’m going to see if I can make out a few lines,” he said, settling himself onto a chair.
Avery examined the room while Alex studied the spell, looking for clues among the mess on the floor. She crouched next to a silver bowl, the remnants of ashes in it. She sniffed it carefully, smelling paper and the faint whiff of burnt herbs. “I think they were doing some kind of revealing spell, Alex.” She frowned. “Where are the letters?”
Alex only grunted, so she searched on her own, righting objects as she went and restoring order to the room, but the letters had gone. They must have used them to find the spell; it was logical, after all.
She told Alex what she’d found and he grunted absently again, finally saying, “So, not only did their ancestors veil their intent in cryptic letters, but they hid the spell, too. It was either because they were ashamed of it, or it was too powerful to share.” He leaned even closer, the green light illuminating his face.
“Or,” Avery added, “they knew it had a tendency to backfire.”
Alex shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s it. Maybe they hid it as a means of stopping someone from reversing it?” He frowned, rubbing his stubble as he stared at the grimoire. “None of this makes sense!”
“What if their spirits are so low that Briar can’t get them? Would you have to?”
“I don’t want to, but if that’s our only option, of course I will.”
“I think we should summon Gil, instead. Tonight.”
“We said we’d never do that.”
“But there’s still no sign of Helena! And,” she added, “tomorrow is the anniversary of Coppinger’s disappearance. Anything could happen!”
“All right, I’ll think on it. But now, I just want to study this. And perhaps we should call Estelle.”
“I suppose we should.” She could already hear Estelle’s sharp, accusatory tone, and knew the reality would be so much worse.
“She’s Caspian’s sister, and will be well-versed with curse spells,” Alex pointed out, but then he hesitated, too. “Let’s see how far I get with this on my own.”
“You’re not studying it alone! I’ll help, as soon as I’ve sealed the windows in some way,” she said, moving to his side and squeezing his hand. “Two witches are better than one.”
“That’s what Serephina and Virginia thought, and look what they did!”
“They rid the world of Coppinger and his Cruel Gang! That’s a plus, right?”
“Was,” he said, turning back to the book. “Until now.”
Newton studied Ethan James, and although they had barely started the interview, Newton was already annoyed with him. Moore stood at his side watching dispassionately, but he knew he was taking everything in.
They were in the corner of the large exhibition room at White Haven Museum, where half a dozen staff were putting the finishing touches on the displays. There was an atmosphere of controlled panic mixed with the buzz of anticipation and excitement. Newton had to admit that the exhibit looked impressive. Spotless glass cabinets displayed smuggling curios, and there were interactive displays too. There was a loud discussion at the far end of the room about what should be displayed more prominently. It seemed a little late for such discussions, but what did he know about how museums worked?
He tried to block the noise out as he again addressed Ethan. “As I said, Mr James, we do need your advice on the gold coins found at the scene of all three crimes. I’d also like to ask your opinion on the wooden chests that were found in Looe, and the human remains that were next to them. We feel you can offer us great insight, considering your speciality.”
Ethan was a slim man in his forties, dressed in jeans and a shirt, attempting to look casually trendy. He was well-groomed and clean-shaven, and Newton was disappointed. He’d half expected him to look like Indiana Jones.
Ethan’s lips narrowed. “This is a terrible time, I’m afraid. I am far too busy. As you can see, the exhibition opens tomorrow. I can recommend a couple of colleagues who can help.”
“But I don’t want to speak to your colleagues. I want to speak to you. You see, there’s also the matter of your cousin, Jasmine, who was found in a mangled heap on Perranporth Beach.”
Ethan blinked and swallowed. “Ah, yes. That was quite awful.”
“Yes, it was. Were you close?”
He shook his head quickly. “No, not at all. I barely saw her.”
“Oh, really? Even though she works at Charlestown with you? Her mother said that Jasmine had seen you recently, and seemed excited about something,” Newton told him, an image of the crying, distraught woman filling his mind. “Any idea what that was?”
Ethan kept his expression carefully neutral. “No idea. I’ve been spending my time here, rather than Charlestown. I’d run into her briefly in Carlyon Bay, but that was all. It was so quick, I’d forgotten about it.”
“She obviously had a passion for smuggling, like you.”
Ethan was looking pale, but he was trying his best to bluster on. “Many of us do. That’s not a crime. Er,” he glanced around at his colleagues, who despite their busyness were watching them surreptitiously. “Should we go into my office?”
Now, he wanted his office! “Certainly. Lead the way.”
He led them down a narrow set of stairs into the basement and opened the door to a windowless office, crammed with furniture and files, and by the time he sat behind his desk, gesturing Moore and Newton to sit too, he seemed to have composed himself.
“Right, you were saying?”
Newton threw the coins wrapped in evidence bags onto the desk. “These were found in the victims’ mouths. What can you tell me about them?”
He looked reluctant to pick them up, but when he did, he examined them carefully. “Well, this one is a Spanish Doubloon, seventeenth century, and the other two are English Guineas. One is eighteenth and one nineteenth century.” He put them back on the desk quickly, as if they might burn his fingers. “Not terribly uncommon, or particularly valuable.”
“But if they were part of a hoard they would be, surely?”
“Well, that depends on how big the hoard was. It would be more valuable for historical purposes.”
“It would also make an amazing display.”
“Fascinating!” Ethan agreed. “But the chance of finding a hoard is incredibly low.”
“I guess so.” Newton studied him. Ethan looked uncomfortable now, his eyes darting around the room, and Newton said, “However, we believe the broken chests found in the cave in Looe contained trea
sure that was stolen recently, and we found evidence of more today in Wheal Droskyn. A few coins were left behind. We believe the thieves fled in panic. It was where Jasmine died.”
“Wheal Droskyn?” Ethan’s eyes were wide now, although he was desperately trying to maintain a calm façade. He started to stutter. “Er, what led you there?”
“The adit that Jasmine’s body was forced through. She had a horrible death. Violent. Painful.” Newton leaned forward, arms resting on the desk. “Are you okay, Mr James? You look unwell. Would you like some water?”
“No! I’m okay. Obviously, I’m upset at the manner of my cousin’s death. Any idea who did this?”
“We have our suspicions.” Newton decided to push him further. He’d put money on Ethan being involved. He was pale and sweating now, shuffling uncomfortably in his seat. “And we also believe that Jasmine’s deceased boyfriend, Miles, was involved, too. I suspect they were behind the theft in Looe. This is what she must have been so excited about. And we believe there are accomplices.”
Ethan pulled himself together. “Why on Earth would you think that?”
“Well, there’s no evidence of the treasure in the house they shared together. No maps or papers that indicate how they knew where to go. And of course, the treasure in Wheal Droskyn is gone. If Jasmine was on her own, the treasure would still be there, surely.”
“I suppose that’s logical. But,” he laughed incredulously, “I think your imagination is running away with you. I doubt they found a hoard of any kind. There would have been remnants only, the rest stolen long ago.”
“The broken locks happened very recently. And the cave in the mine was also a recent find. Was Jasmine involved in this exhibit? Could she have found an old map in the new material that was discovered here?”
Ethan laughed, but there was a calculating expression behind his eyes. “Treasure maps! Please, Detective, I think that’s a little far-fetched. No, she wasn’t involved here, and everything we’ve found is upstairs, on display.” He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an exhibition to finish. We open tomorrow, and I’m anxious that it should be perfect.”
Newton and Moore stood too, and as Ethan came around the desk, they shook hands. “Thank you for your time, Mr James, but if you do think of anything else, please let us know.”
“Of course!” He hustled them out of the door and up the stairs, and Newton watched him enter the exhibition, amused.
He turned to Moore. “Verdict?”
“Guilty. He’s in it up to his neck.”
“Let’s have him watched tonight. I bet he’ll be scurrying off somewhere as soon as he’s able to.”
Chapter 26
Caspian was lost in a sea of green-blue mist.
He was formless, unable to discern arms from legs, or fingers from toes. He couldn’t even feel any sensations, and for the first time in days, was free from the pain of his stab wound and bruises. With growing horror, he realised his spirit had left his body.
But he wasn’t spirit-walking. There was no silver cord tying him to his body. He was somewhere else, and he had a horrible feeling he was in the spirit world. If the spirits of the smugglers found him, they would surely kill him, severing his spirit forever from his body, trapping him here.
Unless he was already dead.
He tried not to panic and concentrated on his surroundings, finally hearing distant voices. They were familiar. Were they voices of the dead? No. It was Briar, and then Avery and Alex, but he couldn’t make out what they said.
That meant he couldn’t be dead. He was hovering somewhere in between.
What the hell had happened? Trying to think was hard. He couldn’t focus, and his thoughts drifted randomly. He’d been working a spell, but something else had happened.
Reuben! He’d been working with Reuben, and something had exploded from the pages of the grimoire. The voices of his friends were reassuring, grounding him, but he needed to know if Reuben was here. But was this really the spirit world, or something different? Why did he feel as if he was drifting on a tide? Drawing on the voices from above like an anchor, he cast around for Reuben’s magical signature, and finally felt it. Relieved, he drifted towards it like a leaf on a current, shocked to hear Reuben’s voice in his head.
“Caspian?”
“Reuben! Are you okay?”
“I’m great, except for the fact that I can’t feel my body.”
Great? Great was odd…
Caspian continued, regardless. “We’ve left them behind. That bloody spell.” Now that he was talking to Reuben, he had a sense of his shape and being, which helped ground him even further as he found his footing in this strange place. “We need to get back to our bodies before we’re discovered.”
“By who?”
“The smugglers’ ghosts, you idiot! We’re in their world—I think.”
Even in the spirit world, he could discern Reuben’s dry scepticism. “Pull the other one, Caspian.”
“Look around! Where the hell else do you think we are?”
“I’m on a beach.”
“What?” Caspian looked around him, confused. “No, you’re not. We’re in the middle of nothingness!”
“No, I’m on a tropical beach. It’s so warm! I’m watching the sea right now.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t feel your body?”
“I can’t, but I know I’m on a beach.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Neither do you.”
Of all the people to be stuck in some sodding limbo-land with, he was with Reuben-bloody-surf-mad-Jackson! “Reuben! Focus! How can you be on a beach when we were in your attic only minutes ago?”
“You were in my attic? Weird.”
“We were looking for the curse that killed Coppinger!”
Silence fell, and then he said, “Oh yeah, I thought that was a dream.”
“No! That is reality. Your beach is a dream.”
“Come and look at it, then you’ll see.”
Reuben’s voice seemed to be drifting away from him, and Caspian realised that Reuben could be dying. Or was he already dead? Was that why he was on a beach and Caspian wasn’t?
Perhaps, Caspian reflected, he should be grateful for the weird, green mist rather than being in his happy place. Where would that even be? Avery’s arms, that’s where. He could feel her now, her softness, her slim body within his hold, her lips that tasted like honey. He’d drown in her, and he’d die happy.
Alex’s eyes burned with fatigue, and he sat back in his chair, frustrated.
“I can make out a couple of lines of this spell, at best!”
“More than I can,” Avery confessed, leaning back in the chair and stretching. “I think we have to admit that we can’t do this.”
“I hate being defeated by a spell.”
“We’re not good at curses, and there’s a lot of elemental water in this. That’s one of my weakest elements.”
Alex exhaled heavily. “Mine, too. At least we’ve got a feel for the shape of it, even if we don’t know the details.”
“Come on,” Avery said, rising to her feet. “I’m starving, and I want a glass of wine. No, need a glass of wine. And we should update the others on our lack of progress.”
Alex glanced at his watch, groaning when he saw the time. “Shit, it’s after seven. No wonder we’re knackered and starving. Let’s go downstairs and see who else has arrived.” He looked around at the attic, properly focussing on it for the first time in the last couple of hours, and realised the malevolence and despair he’d felt earlier had vanished. “You did a good job of cleansing this, Avery.”
“I had to. It felt toxic.”
So many things here reminded him of Gil. “This must be weird for Reuben, being surrounded by Gil’s stuff.”
“Their stuff.”
“Yeah, but still.” He looked at Avery’s tired and frustrated expression, her wild red hair soft on her shou
lders. “I’m not sure I could stand to see all your stuff around me if anything happened to you. I think the memories would be too painful.”
She stepped forward into his arms, snuggling against his chest. “I know what you mean, but I’d find it comforting, too.”
He inhaled her fresh scent of musk and roses, and nuzzled her neck. “You make all this worthwhile.”
She leaned back to look up at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Magic is great, but it’s nothing without someone to share it with.” His fingers trailed across her cheek. “I’m lucky. Seeing Gil’s spirit again reminded me of him and Alicia, and it still burns me how awful that was—her deception. Their lies to each other.”
“I agree. But we won’t do that.”
She sounded so certain, and yet she had kissed Caspian and kept that from him. His doubt must have showed, because she tightened her grip around him.
“Caspian kissed me,” she reminded him forcefully, “just in case that’s going through your head, and I told you about it! And I guarantee it won’t happen again!”
“I know. I trust you, but it still niggles me. Especially since I‘ve come to realise that Caspian isn’t going anywhere. He’s one of us now, in some weird annoying way.” He wanted to say he was like a bad rash, but he decided Avery wouldn’t appreciate that.
“And we’re stronger for having him as a friend.”
“As long as we don’t have to put up with Estelle, too.”
“Oh, she hates us, so we won’t.” She stretched up to kiss him. “Come on, mister. Food time.”
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, El was just closing the front door, and white plastic bags were on the floor around her, filled with cartons.
“El! You bloody superstar. I smell curry!” Alex hurried forward and picked up a couple of bags as she turned to smile at him. She looked tired, but seemed a little less bleak than she had earlier. And cleaner. “You’ve showered!”
“I had to. I stank of Wheal Droskyn,” she said, picking up two bags and handing them to Avery, and then another two for herself before walking down the hall. “Have you had success?”