I gave him a gentle smile. “I know, Gus. But you’re doing a wonderful thing here. Thank you for helping us.”
He returned my smile and gave a nod. “Right. I suppose I best get back to work.” He stood and tipped his cap to Ma’am. “Thank you, Ma’am.”
I said goodbye to Ma’am, and as we walked out of her office, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. “Can you just mind my stuff?”
“Of course!” He took my coffee cup and paper bag with the sandwich. I hurried into the bathroom and washed my face. Okay, that was two crises averted this morning. Please, Universe, can we get through the day with no more nasty surprises? His shift finished at three, and I was counting down the minutes. It was going to be a loooooong day.
* * *
***
* * *
The good thing about travelling—I left the PIB at three, and I was home by 3:02. I walked into the hallway and locked the reception-room door behind me. So much quiet. My shoulders sagged. I missed Liv being here, and even though Will had moved in—apparently he was staying for a while—he wasn’t home much. Like Angelica, he worked long hours. And Imani was busy, so I couldn’t grab her and visit Liv either. Which meant I couldn’t even go for a run. I wasn’t in the mood to be alone with my thoughts, but it looked like I would anyway, at least until Will and Angelica got home for dinner.
I might as well make good use of my time. I magicked my laptop to myself and took it into the sitting room. Outside, the afternoon light was fading into a bruised sky. I shivered—the fireplace was cold and full of ash. I delved into the river of power, pointed at the fireplace, and pictured the woodpile in the shed. “Two logs, please, and kindling.” When they appeared in the fireplace, I couldn’t help but grin. I’d come a long way since April, arriving here with no idea. I still had a way to go, but I was pretty happy with how much I’d learned in that time, even though some of the lessons had come with a high price. “Ignite.” I clicked my fingers for fun—it totally wasn’t necessary, but why not add a bit of flounce?
Orange flames popped up in the kindling and licked around the logs. I sat in one of the armchairs next to the fireplace and got to work googling Owen the Oracle. Who are you, and what is your endgame? After today, I was pretty sure Olga was just a cow and not actually the cause of our worst problems. Unless she was working with Owen? Nah, she was just a rogue witch, but then, what about the guy and the tiger? Or what if, somehow, she knew what he was doing and had worked out how to emulate it? That would be too much of a coincidence, surely. I took a deep breath before my thoughts raced too far ahead. One thing at a time, Lily.
I typed in Owen the Oracle, and a whole heap of listings came up, from articles to websites of the places he’d appeared, and his own website. There were also chat rooms full of people who were fans and talking about their experiences. Hmm, interesting. I started with an article from two years ago from a local Westerham news site—Owen the Oracle Predicts Bright Future.
Local flamboyant fortune teller Owen the Oracle has just landed the gig of his career. He’s appearing in Germany at an annual fortune-telling extravaganza that attracts the best in the world. He’ll be appearing alongside famous names, such as Ellen the Enlightened, Madame Stargazer, and Manfred the Visionary. Owen says, “I’ve worked hard to get here. I have the best reputation in the business for being the most accurate. I love what I do. I enjoy predicting the good things that are coming up in peoples’ lives. It’s satisfying. I’ve always wanted to be the best, and I feel like my time is now.” He winks at me. “Actually, I know my time is now. I’m the best in the world, and the word is finally getting out there.” We wish Owen the Oracle luck. If you want to see him amaze with his accurate predictions, tune into BBC One Friday night at eight.
I read a couple more articles that were basically him bragging about being the best in the world. A fourth article with one of his contemporaries, reported after an on-air blow-up, was rather eye-opening. Madame Stargazer and Owen were both on the same talk show. Owen the Oracle was arrogant and disrespectful to Madame Stargazer, basically called her a fake, and reiterated that he was the only real deal out there. He even bragged about earning more than anyone else in the business and having the largest fan base. Looked like his motivation for doing what he was doing was fame and ego. Which made sense, as he never told anyone about the bad stuff that was coming up. He wanted to only be the bearer of good news. But where did that burst of magic come in, and why? Was he a sadist at heart? Hmm. Time to read what was in the chat rooms.
I had to sign up to read the comments, but I put in my junk email address and a fake name. I’d likely get some spammy emails because of signing up—I didn’t trust any sites with my information. They all sold it, and then my legitimate emails were lost amongst the crap. So it was one email I gave friends and work acquaintances and one for stupid websites. But I digress….
Hmm, these were interesting. And what would make this scenario even better? Another cup of coffee. I magicked one up. It appeared on the table next to my chair. I took a sip and admired the cheery fire flickering in the fireplace. Wow, I was witching like a champion this afternoon. It was nice to find something positive about the day, and I guessed saving Moira this morning was another plus—it was just depressing that she’d needed saving. Stupid bad witches making trouble.
I settled back in the chair and clicked into the first forum.
Percival127—Owen’s the real deal. A few weeks after he read my fortune, it all came true. My girlfriend got back with me when she realised the guy she left me for cheated on her, and my grandma, who was sick, got better, and they said she was going to die.
KittyKat—Nice! Two months after I had my reading with him, my dreams came true, and I landed the job I wanted at the local bakery. He said I’d meet the love of my life there too, and I did! We’re getting married next month.
SandyMack—I wanted to see him, but at two-thousand quid, I can’t afford it. Does he do any free work?
KittyKat—I don’t think so. But, honestly, he’s worth it. My friend saw him too, and the stuff he said all came true. He really is incredible.
FrankieDogLover—He was good, and the stuff he told me came true, but some bad stuff happened that he never told me.
KittyKat—Like what?
FrankieDogLover—I was having trouble paying my mortgage, and I desperately needed to pick up more shifts at work, but there were none. The week after I saw him, one of the guys from work had a stroke, and another one had a bad car accident. I got more shifts, but, yeah. So I felt bad, like it was my fault.
KittyKat—Sounds like a massive coincidence. Although my friend got her wish of going on a two-month cruise because her gran died and left her some money. But I think that’s just the timing. Life is never always good. And how is Owen to know about all the bad stuff that will happen to other people? We’re only asking about ourselves, remember.
FrankieDogLover—Yeah, but I still felt bad. He was accurate in his predictions though.
Right, okay. Those could have been coincidences, but from what I could see, good seemed to follow bad in a lot of these scenarios. Was it because the good things couldn’t happen without the bad? I mean, everyone had to die, so maybe the granny thing was just luck of the draw, and you could argue the guys at Frankie’s work suffered the same bad luck. A lot of people had strokes and car accidents. It didn’t prove anything.
I read another forum, and another. They were a mix of the same—he was accurate, but there were always a couple of people who mentioned the balance of good news and the bad that facilitated it. There was something there—I was sure of it. But what, why, and how to prove it, if it was, indeed, intentional on Owen’s part.
I stared into the fire and pondered. My phone rang, and I jumped, slamming my hand over my heart. Seriously. I needed to meditate or something. I slid it out of my pocket and answered it. “Angelica. What’s up? Is everything okay?” I had the sinking feeling maybe something had happened to Moira again.
“Yes, dear. Things are just fine. I’m calling to tell you that we’ve arrested Olga.”
I sucked in a breath. “What happened? Why? Did she set Liv up?” My heart was racing, and not just because of me being highly strung. Did this mean Liv was off the hook?
“Not that we can tell, but we have untangled a few things with the Irving tiger case. It appears as if Olga was there that morning too. We went over all the surveillance videos. She was wearing a disguise. She must have been there the day before to prepare. After seeing the surveillance video, we called her in and took her magic signature. It matched the faint trace we found at the park that day. She’d done her best to scramble it afterwards, but it was there.”
“But what about the burst of magic Alfred, the guy’s partner, felt? It’s so similar to the Owen things. Can you be sure?”
“At this stage, it’s what we have, Lily. I’m not going to go looking for trouble. Now we just have to figure out how to prove she had a hand in what happened to Olivia… if she did. But anyway, I just thought you’d like to know.”
“Thanks. So, are you still investigating Owen?”
“Of course, dear, especially after what happened today. Anyway, I’ll be home at seven with Will, and we’ll have dinner.”
“Okay. See you then. Bye.” Had anyone told Liv what had happened? Although maybe she shouldn’t know. If she got her hopes up and Olga didn’t have anything to do with it, it might start another downward spiral. I sighed, my heart heavy. We were getting there, but there was still much to untangle. Thankfully, though, we had time. Liv’s trial wasn’t for another few months, which was a long time to carry the stress around, but it gave us plenty of opportunity to get to the bottom of what was going on.
At least that’s what I thought. As usual, the universe had other ideas.
Chapter 12
The next day at eleven, I was preparing to visit Olivia. Rain pelted down outside. Angelica had even set the fire before going to work—it was that cold, but not enough to snow. Rugged up in my black coat, I frowned as I gazed out the window. Christmas was approaching, and I really, really wanted to see it snow by then. If we weren’t caught up in everything right now, I’d magic over to Germany or somewhere with plenty of snow. Maybe we’d get Liv off by then, and Will would come with me for a weekend. Dreams are free, as they say.
Imani’s car pulled into the driveway. She jumped out and ran to the front door, which I reached at the same time. I yanked it open. Her normally calm composure had slipped. Tension splayed small lines at the corners of her eyes, and her eyes radiated worry. She stood there, mouth poised to say something that wasn’t actually coming out. My stomach dropped to the floor. Whatever this was, it wasn’t going to be good.
“Are you okay? Imani? Come in.” I grabbed her arm, pulled her inside, and shut the door. “What wrong?”
“It’s Liv.”
Adrenaline released, warming my face and ramping up my heart rate. I was afraid to ask, but…. “What? What happened? She’s not d—”
“No! No, she’s alive.”
I took a deep, shuddering breath. “What then?”
“She’s sick. She collapsed this morning, and her parents called an ambulance. She’s in the A&E. Beren’s with her. The doctors have no idea what’s going on. Beren told me to come get you and take you to the hospital. Hopefully he’ll have more to tell us when we get there.”
“When you say collapsed, is she still unconscious, or is she awake?”
Short, sharp shakes of her head. “I don’t know.”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
The drive to East Surrey Hospital took thirty minutes in the downpour. It was the longest thirty minutes of my life. My leg jiggled the whole way, and neither of us said a word. The crappy visibility didn’t help as fat droplets pummelled the windscreen. Imani drove slower than normal, leaning forward, her hands clenched on the steering wheel. Each rapid thunk, thunk, thunk of the windscreen wipers resonated in my belly. And I’d thought I was tense yesterday. Ha. Another lesson in the fact that things could always be worse.
I bit my fingernails as we reached the hospital and we found parking. Imani turned off the car and twisted around to grab an umbrella from the back seat. I’d forgotten one in my dash out of the house, but no matter. I dipped into the river, visualised the umbrella in Angelica’s closet, called it to me, and it appeared in my hand. If only all our problems were that easily magicked away.
Imani and I shared a glance and a nod; then we bolted from the car to the emergency exit, the pattering rain echoing against my umbrella. At the reception desk, Imani asked if we could go in to see Olivia. The lady behind the desk, petite, olive-skinned, her dark hair short, looked up and over her rectangular glasses. Her forehead bunched, creating a myriad of wrinkles. “And your relation to the patient?”
“We’re her best friends.”
The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s immediate family and partner only.”
I gritted my teeth, about to say something, when I felt a tingle of Imani’s power. I’m sure whatever she was doing was probably illegal, but I didn’t care. Sometimes rules were meant to be broken. Imani smiled at the woman. “I’m sure you’ll understand that we’re her very best friends. We’re practically related, and she needs us. Can you let us know where to go? We’d really appreciate it.” She’d put on a sweet, lilting tone that even had me smiling. Ooh, she was good.
The nurse’s stern expression wavered, and she looked at her computer screen again before looking back at Imani. She bit her lip. “I really shouldn’t, you know, but if you really think she needs you….”
“She definitely needs us. And you would be ever so kind to let us see her.”
The woman smiled. “Okay. I guess you could call it my good deed for the day.” She pointed to double doors. “I’ll press the button. Go through, and she should be in a bed there. If she’s already been assessed and allocated a room, they’ll be able to point you in the right direction.”
“Thank you,” Imani and I answered. We hurried to the doors, hearing the click of the unlocking mechanism as we reached them.
“Nice work, lady.”
“Whatever do you mean?” She grinned and winked.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” I winked back.
Our happiness, however, was short-lived. We were eventually guided to the intensive care unit, where Liv had her own room. Imani stopped in front of the closed door and took a breath. Her gaze met mine. “Ready, love?”
I swallowed. “Not really, but there will never be a good time. Maybe there’s something we can do to help.” I quirked my lips up on one side as if to say, “You never know.”
She opened the door, and we entered.
I tried to keep the shock from my face as I took in the scene. Her parents stood with their backs to us, holding hands, looking down at Olivia, who lay there, eyes closed, heart monitor beeping, a drip in one arm. The room smelt as all hospitals do—disinfectant with the lingering undertone of sickness. And my friend so still. Tears burned, but I blinked them back. Her parents didn’t need me coming in here and adding to their grief. It was time to see if there was anything I could do.
“Hey,” I said, slowly moving towards the bed.
Her parents turned. Her mother gave us a nod, her father a sad smile. “She’s stable,” he said. “But they don’t know what’s wrong. They think it’s a metabolic problem.”
Beren gave us a chin tip. “They’ve got more tests to run later.” He was on the other side of the bed and held Olivia’s hand. The tightness around his eyes spoke of his frustration and pain. I bet he needed to take a good look at what was going on inside, and he couldn’t with her parents watching. Right, that was a job I could potentially do, or maybe we needed more of Imani’s persuading skills.
“How long have you all been here?” I reached the bed. Liv was so still, her dark skin ashen with a light sheen of sweat on her face. She looked as if she was barely breathing.
Her mother sniffed back tears and dabbed her eyes with a tissue. Her father put his arm around her and squeezed her close. I leaned over and touched her cheek. Clammy but hot. “Has she got a fever?”
Beren nodded. “It’s come down a bit since they gave her something for it, but she’s still burning up.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “They’re not doing enough.” The fire in his gaze told me we needed to do something now. I turned to Imani and gave her a look. “I think maybe we should take Mr and Mrs Grosvenor for a little bit of fresh air.” I turned to them. “I know you probably don’t want to leave right now, but maybe grabbing a cup of tea might help, just take a break, then come back.”
Liv’s mum shook her head. “I can’t leave my baby.”
Imani’s magic settled over my scalp. “Beren’s here with her, and if he needs to, he’ll call your mobile. You both need to keep your strength up. She could be here for days. And you don’t want to collapse either. It’s better for Olivia if you’re in good health.” Her soothing voice was like a velvety ribbon, swirling around them, drawing them into the idea, lulling them. “If she wakes up while we’re gone, Beren will get us straight away. Okay?” Another pulse of magic radiated from her.
Liv’s parents both looked at each other, then gave slow nods. “Okay,” her dad said. “But only for fifteen minutes. I want to be here if she wakes up.”
Imani gave an understanding nod. “Of course. Let’s get that cup of tea, and maybe some biscuits. I bet neither of you have eaten yet.”
Her mum sniffed back a tear. “Robert and I were about to sit down to breakfast when it happened. I guess we should eat something, even though I feel like I could never eat again.” She turned and gazed at Liv.
Witch Oracle in Westerham Page 12
