by T J Green
Avery nodded in greeting to a few of the mourners who were joining them at the mausoleum and then slowed down so that they were far enough behind that they couldn’t hear. She quietly asked El, “How’s Alicia doing?”
El shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. She’s polite, but that’s all. She’s barely spoken to me, but I don’t see much of her, so why should she?”
Avery nodded and kept her thoughts to herself. She told no one of her fears other than Alex, and they had barely seen each other over the past week, except for the night at the Witch Museum.
“And what about Reuben? How’s he doing?”
El dropped her head, silent for a moment, before looking at Avery and Briar. “He can barely look at me, never mind speak to me. I think he blames me.”
“You don’t know that,” Avery said, trying to comfort her. “He’s grieving and angry. He’ll come round.”
“I’ve never seen him like this before. Whatever we had is gone.”
Briar hugged her. “It will be okay. It will just take time.”
The mausoleum came into view. It was an ornate stone building with a pitched roof, a double door made from thick wooden planks, and an enormous keyhole. Avery shuddered. It wasn’t somewhere she would like to spend eternity. She’d rather be buried beneath a tree or cremated and scattered amongst her plants.
At the entrance the vicar said a few words, most of them lost on the wind, and the pallbearers carried the coffin inside.
The wind seemed to howl in this spot and the leaves above them rustled furiously, some of them flying loose and swirling around them. Avery looked around cautiously. She wouldn’t put it past Faversham to be standing by and gloating somewhere in the periphery, but the only person now in sight was DI Newton, stepping between the trees and tombstones to reach them.
Avery nudged El and Briar. “Look who’s coming.”
Newton nodded to them as he arrived, and then for a moment he watched the vicar speaking to Alicia and her family. Avery had only spoken to him once since they closed the dimensional doorway, and that was briefly over the phone to let him know they could open the museum again. His dark hair was swept back, slightly ruffled in the breeze, and his eyes had dark shadows under them. He turned to Avery. “Thank you for closing the doorway. You should have called me.”
“We had no idea if we could do it, and it would’ve been too dangerous for you to be there. Besides, you couldn’t have helped.”
“Even so, I’d rather know before than after—should anything like that happen again.”
El jumped in, “Let’s hope it doesn’t. I don’t want to have to deal with demons again for a while.”
“Nor me,” Briar said. “It’s taken all week for my leg to heal.”
Newton looked concerned. “Why? What happened?”
“Demons have a particularly nasty rope fire.” Briar pulled her long black skirt up to reveal a dark red line that spiralled around her ankle and calf.
His face softened for a moment, and then he looked impatient. “You could all have been killed.”
“So could you. You haven’t got magic to protect you,” Avery pointed out. “And you made it pretty clear you hate magic, and what we do. Probably best to leave you out of it.”
She found Newton so confusing. He looked concerned, but also disapproving. She kept playing over in her mind what he’d said about his place in the town. He was unfathomable.
He watched her closely, his attention unnerving. “Have you decided to share with me about what’s really going on?”
“No, have you?” Avery shot back.
“I’m not concealing anything,” he said with searing impatience. He stood over her, his height dwarfing her, and she was forced to look up to meet his eyes.
“Neither are we,” she said smoothly.
“So why did you steal from the museum?”
She hesitated for a second. “I haven’t stolen anything.”
He grimaced. “Really? Because there’s a pen and ink drawing of Helena missing, and a book from the display.”
“Maybe someone broke in after us.” She kept her face straight.
He looked as if he was about to say something else when Alex, Reuben, and the others exited the mausoleum.
“Looks like we’re done here,” Briar said, glancing nervously between them.
“We are far from done,” Newton said, and he stepped forward to join Alicia.
Alex glanced her way and nodded towards Newton, a frown on his face. She shrugged. Alex glared at Newton, and Avery sighed inwardly. More conflict.
She turned and started walking back to the church, the wind stronger now, and her long, red hair whipped around her face. She pushed it back, trying to restrain it, and mulled over the map she had found under the witch light, feeling only slightly guilty over stealing it. It was hers, really, and who knows how long it had lain there, waiting to be found. After studying it for days, she was sure that it was a map. The lines not only seemed to suggest a map, but also appeared to show the grounds of a house or a building of some sort. But she couldn’t work out the key that would reveal where to start. A thought struck her suddenly. What if the grimoire was in a vault or a church crypt? It was possible. There were plenty of old churches in the town. She looked at Old Haven Church. It could even be in there.
Maybe it showed where Helena was buried? Unfortunately, that was a real mystery. Being burned at the stake meant burial in non-consecrated ground.
Avery stepped back into the church, the high roof arching above her, and was glad to be out of the wind. It was empty now, and the smell of lilies was overpowering. She sighed and closed her eyes, pondering what to do next, but her reverie was disturbed by the doors of the church opening with a shout. “Avery, we need to go.”
It was over. Time to go to the wake.
***
Alex’s pub, The Wayward Son, had been closed for the afternoon, open only to mourners. However, seeing as a large amount of people from the town were at the service, the pub looked as full as usual.
Reuben had opened a large bar tab, and the wake was in full swing by the time they arrived. Food was also served, and extra staff had been drafted in to take around trays of sandwiches and canapés.
Avery grabbed a large glass of red wine from the bar and mingled with the guests, managing to find Sally and Dan and some of her other friends who she felt she’d been neglecting lately. Sally hadn’t said much about Gil’s death, but Avery knew she suspected something other than the official story. She finally worked her way to Reuben’s side. He had taken off his jacket and loosened his tie, and he had a very healthy measure of whiskey in hand. He glanced down at her, a wan smile on his face.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you all day. How are you?” Avery asked, worried.
“I’m okay.” He shrugged, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he glanced around the pub. “It’s been a difficult few days.”
“Of course. Lovely to see how many people are here, though.”
“Yeah.” He lowered his voice, turning away from the room slightly. “We need to meet again, I suppose. To discuss, you know…”
“When you’re ready.”
Reuben nodded and sighed heavily. “I’ve been left the house, not Alicia. That was a shock.”
“Really?” Avery was surprised for a moment that he was bringing it up, and then she shook her head. “You know what—it should be left to you. It’s your family home. You live there, too.” Which was true. The house was huge, and he lived in a suite of rooms on one of the floors.
“I feel weird about it.”
“Don’t. Gil’s no fool. I presume he left Alicia a good amount of money?”
He nodded. “She’s not very happy. It made me think about what we were talking about the other day.”
Avery recalled their conversation in the cave on Gull Island, the questions she asked about Alicia, while trying not to voice her doubts about her. Her heart started racing. “Why? Has something happened?”
“She’s been weird. More than just mad at not being left the house.”
Avery looked around while he was talking and saw Alicia across the room, white wine in hand, glaring at her through the crowd of people. It was as if she could hear their conversation. Avery smiled nervously and turned back to Reuben.
“I wasn’t sure you’d want to be involved anymore.”
“None of us has a choice,” he said enigmatically. “We’ll all need to meet. Just give me a few more days.”
***
Alex found Avery in the back room of the pub where she’d gone to get some quiet. There was something about this room. It had a feeling of peace and space. She sat at a table on her own, gazing out the window. A fine rain had started to fall, and it blew almost sideways across the courtyard. She was debating at what time it would be polite to leave, when Alex pulled out a chair and sat opposite her.
“The table where we had our first date,” he said, grinning, referring to where they’d had dinner only a short time ago.
It felt like a lifetime had passed since then. The thought was immediately followed by the memory of their night together only last week, and she tried to pull herself together. If Avery was honest, she thought about it often, not that she would tell him that.
“You’re so funny.”
“I know.”
She decided to move on. “Have you spelled this room? It’s always quiet in here.”
“Maybe a little. I like to think some patrons deserve a little peace and quiet. It discourages the rowdy bunch.”
Avery nodded. “I like it.”
Alex leaned forward, and she could feel his body heat across the small table. “I’ve been thinking about the Courtney Library. We need to go tomorrow.”
That was the last thing Avery had been thinking about, and she looked at him in shock. “Tomorrow?”
“Yes. We’ve lost a whole week. I don’t want anyone else to die, Avery.” He looked at her, serious suddenly. “This shit’s got real. Gil’s dead, there’s demons and doorways to other dimensions. It’s like White Haven has turned into the Hell mouth. This could just be the start. I don’t like being on the back foot.”
She closed her eyes and sighed for a second. “You’re right. And I need help, anyway.” She wondered at what point in the past week she had started trusting and relying on Alex Bonneville. Life was really weird right now.
“Why?” His attention was fixed solely on her. It was unnerving, like being caught in a giant floodlight.
“Helena’s map. I’m stuck. I have no idea where to look.”
“I’m sure we’ll work it out. I’ll pick you up after my shift here—that okay?”’
“Do we even know where to look?” Avery was flooded with worry, feeling unprepared.
“Trust me. And leave Newton out of this. He seems to be sniffing around a lot.”
“He’s a detective! That’s what they do. And I’m not about to tell him I’m breaking in somewhere. Again.” She looked at him in disbelief.
He grunted. “Whatever.”
“Have you thought any more about Alicia?”
“Not really. I’ve been too busy here, but it does seem to have gone quiet all of a sudden.”
Avery had another thought. “I hear one of the pallbearers is a distant cousin of Gil’s. Does he know magic, or about anything to do with their family history?”
Alex rolled his eyes. “I carried a coffin with him—I’m not his best mate!”
Now Avery rolled her eyes. “It was just a thought! I’ll ask Reuben. Or better still, I’ll ask El. Women are much better at that kind of thing.”
Alex smirked. “What, gossip?”
“Talking. In fact, I’ll do it myself.” She gave him a triumphant smile.
“All right then, Miss Marple.” He glanced up. “Now’s your chance, he’s right there.”
Avery turned to see an older man with light brown hair streaked with grey in the doorway between the two rooms. He looked lost as he entered the back room, looking around a little sadly. Avery ached to see him looking so alone and she glared at Alex, an unspoken urge for an introduction.
“All right. I’ll pick you up at eleven o’clock tomorrow night. Be ready.” Alex rose to his feet and called out, “Lindon. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Avery stood as Lindon approached their table, glancing between the two of them. Alex introduced them and then excused himself, leaving them alone.
“Have a seat,” Avery said, smiling as she sat down and sipped her wine. “I just wanted to say how sorry I am. Gil was a really amazing man.”
Lindon nodded, gazing into his own drink for a moment before looking up. Avery was struck by how similar his eyes were to Gil’s. “Thank you. I haven’t seen him in years, not since his wedding. I really didn’t think I’d be at his funeral, too.”
Avery wanted to ask him about magic, but was unsure how to go about it. “You don’t live in White Haven, then?”
“No. Our side of the family decided many years ago that White Haven wasn’t for us.”
“Why’s that?”
He looked at her quizzically. “I think you know.”
She swallowed. “Maybe I do.”
“My family has always thought our special skills complicated life, and I’ve kept away from it.”
“I don’t know how you do that. To me, it’s as natural as breathing.”
“It’s like a lifelong diet—you get used to it.”
Avery decided she might as well cut to the chase. “Do you know anything about your old great-uncle Addison?”
“Please don’t tell me you think he had something to do with this.”
Avery blinked and sat back, perplexed. That wasn’t the answer she’d expected. She thought he’d look at her blankly. “Do you know him? Or know of him, and the fact that he disappeared with his family?”
“Don’t you mean he was banished?”
“How can you know that when Gil didn’t have a clue?”
Lindon gazed out of the window at the swirling wind and rain as it splattered across the pane. It was getting worse, gearing up into a full-on storm. He thought for a few moments and then turned to face her again, weariness as well as grief etched across his features. “He’s one of the reasons we left, Avery. Black magic. He sacrificed his family for knowledge. They didn’t disappear. He killed them.”
Avery almost dropped her drink in shock. “How do you know that?”
“My great-grandmother, Felicity, was the youngest sister of Addison—we’re not first cousins, just in case you wondered. There was an incident one night, screams, a trail of blood, an altar found in the woods behind the house. The details were not known to my great-grandmother, but steps were taken, and Addison was banished. He was so arrogant, he thought he could get away with it. He was wrong. Magic was a dirty word for years. That story has been told through the generations of our family as a reminder of why not to do magic at all. We don’t forget.”
“But that’s not what magic is!” Avery cried, desperate to defend what she loved. “That was an abomination.”
“Is it? Gil’s dead.”
“There has always been black magic, but there’s always been good, too.” She sensed she was losing him. “Do you know where Addison went?”
“No, I don’t ever want to know.” He looked at his watch. “Anyway, I’m going. I have a long drive back.”
“You’re not staying here tonight?”
“No, I won’t stay in White Haven.” He stood, easing his chair back. “It was good to meet you, Avery. I’m sorry if I sounded bleak, I know you mean well. Stay safe.”
Avery watched him go, and her tears welled up. White Haven was her home, a magical place in many ways, but now, half of her wished she was leaving with him.
3
The next night, Alex arrived at eleven promptly, the engine of his Alfa Romeo Spider Boat Tail idling under her front window.
Avery slipped into his passenger seat
dressed all in black—combat trousers, a t-shirt, leather jacket, and boots. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”
He grinned, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. His hair was knotted up on the top of his head, and stubble grazed his cheeks. “You look ready,” he said, easing the car down the street and heading out of the town.
“It’s an illusion. I’ve spent most of the evening sleeping, and then panicking about being arrested. Weren’t we going to scope this place out in the light first?”
“No time. We’ll be fine, you worry too much.”
He concentrated on the road, driving fast but confidently, and Avery leaned back in the seat, glancing between him and the view outside. The lanes of White Haven quickly turned into main roads as Alex headed for the A390 into Truro. At this hour the road was quiet and they made good time.
Sitting this close to Alex was increasingly unnerving. Avery was acutely aware of his build and height and his musky, masculine scent, and found her gaze lingering over his strong forearms and hands as they gripped the wheel. She flushed remembering the feeling of his hands on her body, and she turned away in an attempt to subdue her desire.
He broke the silence that had fallen between them. “So, how are you? The last week’s been pretty rough.”
“I’m okay, just getting through the day, and trying not to be paranoid about being stalked by Faversham. What about you?”
“I’m trying not to think about killing Faversham, because at the moment, that’s all I want to do.” He glanced across at her. “Don’t you?”
“Yes, but we’re not ready yet. I’m not sure I ever will be.” Fear swept through her. “You don’t mean that, anyway. We’re not killers. We’ll find another way.”
“If he touches you, I will kill him.”
Avery could barely believe her ears and for a second she struggled to think of something to say. She looked at him as he gazed fiercely ahead, and she decided to make light of it. “Well, I’ll make sure he doesn’t.”
“I mean it.”
Avery softened and smiled. “Thank you.” She half wondered if she should say something about the other night, and the air in the car seemed to thicken with meaning, but she didn’t want to spoil whatever it was that seemed to be there between them. She laughed to break the tension. “I hope he doesn’t hurt you, either—I don’t think I’m suited to a killing spree. I’m worried enough about raiding a library!”