Buried Magic

by T J Green

  Paul smiled sadly. “Thank you, but she’d had a rich life.” He gestured at the shelves. “There were some old town histories she’d put together herself that she particularly wanted you to have. Insisted, in fact, before she died. Made me promise I wouldn’t forget. Are you a history fan, too?”

  Avery tried to cover her surprise with a small lie. “Very much so. You can’t live in White Haven without loving history. We sell a lot of history books in my shop.”

  Paul laughed, “Quite a murky history, in places! What with witches, caves, smuggling, and wrecks at sea—the place is riddled with strange deeds!”

  Avery’s heart had skipped at beat at the mention of witches, and she laughed along with him, feeling the hair rise on the back of her neck. “True, but no more so than many old villages along the coast, I guess.”

  Paul nodded. “Anyway, I better get on. I’ll be in the study going through more papers.” He sighed. “She accumulated everything, you know. Would you like coffee?”

  “Yes please, sounds great. Black, two sugars.”

  He disappeared, and for a second Avery stood still, thinking, while her heart pounded uncomfortably. She sensed magic, and Anne had requested she come here. Had she known what she was? She couldn’t think about that now. She turned back to the books. It took all her self-control not to run over and start pulling them from the shelves.

  Something was definitely here; her witchy senses were tingling all over. She quickly scanned the shelves. They were crammed with old, worn paperbacks, hardbacks, and books with old leather covers—a mixture of classics, romances, thrillers, and reference books. She focused on where she could feel the pull of magic, and looked up.

  There, in the far corner, on a top shelf, was a row of old leather-bound books. Just as she was about to pull a chair out to use as a step, the door opened and Paul came in with her coffee.

  “See anything you like?” he asked, as he put the coffee on a side table.

  “Lots of thrillers and classics that would sell well, and some of the reference books, too.” She tried to keep the excitement out of her voice. “Where else did your mother get her books from, do you know?”

  “No idea! And I imagine she got them years ago. She didn’t go out much as she got older.” He looked at the dust and general dilapidation of the room with its dated decoration. “I don’t think she did much of anything, except look at family trees. You probably know that she was a bit of a local historian. She would go to the library and look at the archives, and then she got a computer and would do what she could on there.” He brightened at the thought and smiled. “I was quite impressed when she got a computer. She didn’t let age stop her learning!” He pointed at the shelves. “The files she particularly wanted you to have are in that section. She was especially interested in old families of the area. You’ll probably find them amongst that lot.”

  Researching old families? That gave her another prick of unease. Her family, Alex’s, and Gil’s would have been amongst the oldest. All magical. All with secrets. “I’ll look out for them.”

  “Sorry, you’ll have to contend with a lot of dust.”

  “It’s fine. I’m used to it. I clear quite a few books from old houses.”

  He nodded, “Okay, I’ll leave you to it.”

  As soon as he’d gone, she pulled the chair out and stood on it, reaching up to the row of books. As she pulled a few volumes out, dust billowed around her and she coughed and blinked. Grabbing a handful of them, she carried them to the table under the window. The names gave nothing away: A Reference Book of Wildflowers, The Cave Systems of the West Country, Herbs and their Properties, English Folklore, Legends of the South. Not what she was expecting, but interesting. She picked up a few and flicked through them. Nothing interesting. Then she picked up the book on cave systems and shook it, and a black and white photo fell to the floor, releasing the scent of magic.

  She picked it up and held it under the light, and almost dropped it with shock. The photo was of a house, slightly unfocused, the gardens manicured, and a big bank of trees behind it. In front of the house were a woman and two small children staring at the camera, unsmiling and grim. But it was unmistakable. She knew that house—it belonged to Gil. Was that his mother? No, she corrected herself. The photo was too old. It must be his grandmother, maybe even great-grandmother? And the children must be either his mother or father, and an aunt or uncle. She could never remember whom he inherited his magic from.

  After the shock, her initial reaction was one of disappointment. Gil was a witch—maybe the photo had come from his house? Was that why she could sense magic? She turned the photo over to reveal a scrawl of writing that looked like it had been written in a hurry. “The real Jacksons.”

  Her hands shook and she looked around the room as if she was being spied on. She had known Gil all her life. She liked him, a lot. He seemed so trustworthy, and now she had doubts running through her mind. This suggested that Gil was not a real Jackson. And if that was the case, who was he?

  3

  Avery lived in White Haven, a small seaside town on the Cornish coast. It was an old and charming place, with its old stone buildings with mullioned windows, tiny lanes, cobbled streets, quayside views, and boutique shops and restaurants, all swirling down to the sea, where fishing boats bobbed in the harbour. Outside the shops and pubs were hanging baskets and potted plants, and the whole place was picturesque. Beyond the town were rolling downs heading up and away from the sea.

  This was the place she called home, a place that was filled with magic. It had a special quality to it, like a few of the ancient of towns and villages that carried their old magic through the years. Many sensed it, and it attracted new agers, wiccans, mediums, pagans, and spiritualists, although she doubted that any knew that real witches actually lived among them.

  It was now nearly 10:00 PM, her tea of beans on toast was hours ago, and she was starving again. Part of her wished she’d gone to the pub with Sally for their usual post-work drinks with friends, but she had really wanted to read Anne’s notes before meeting the other witches.

  The traffic was always nightmarish in town, so she walked from her shop down to the pub, thinking about Alex and trying to dispel the annoying feelings he always provoked.

  She’d always felt he thought he was better than her, and she’d resented him for it. A few years ago he’d left White Haven, and she had no idea why or where he’d been. He’d returned a few months ago, taking over the old pub on the quayside that belonged to his uncle, and it had been a shock to see him back. She’d seen little of him since his return, other than when he came into her shop to say he was back. It surprised her that he thought to tell her. He was as good-looking as always, more so now that he was older. He’d looked around her shop, waiting for her to be free, and then he sauntered over to the counter, grinning. “Long time, no see, Avery. Thought I’d let you know I’m back, in case you ever need anything.”

  “Thanks, Alex. Very generous of you. But I think I’ll be okay.”

  “Same old Avery. When you change your mind, you know where to find me.” And then he strolled out the door.

  Since then she’d bumped into him at a few parties, and in a few bars with mutual friends where they’d chatted a few times, but that was all. And yet last night he’d come to see her, had known she would have seen something coming.

  The Wayward Son, Alex’s pub, was on one of the quayside roads, looking over the small harbour with its collection of fishing boats. She could smell the brine. It always made her tingle. She rolled her eyes when she saw the sign. That was Alex all over.

  As she walked in, the sound of chatter and music swelled around her; the pub was packed. She headed to the bar and saw Alex make his way towards her from the far end, leaving his two bartenders to attend to the other customers. His dark hair was tied back, but he still hadn’t shaved; dark stubble coated his chin and cheeks. He wore a black t-shirt and old jeans, and he looked way too good. “Evening,” he said, a lazy
grin on his face. “What’s your poison?”

  “A very large glass of red, please. And a packet of cheese and onion crisps.”

  He reached behind him and grabbed a bottle of merlot. “I predict the lady likes a full red with a hint of spice. Sound good?”

  “Perfect, thank you,” she said, feeling churlishness wouldn’t be a good idea in his pub.

  “Drink’s on the house, and don’t worry about the crisps, there’s food upstairs.”

  “Is there?” she asked, all animosity towards him temporarily forgotten.

  “Of course, I like to feed my guests.” He gestured towards the stairs at the back of the pub. “Head up, I’ll be with you soon. You’ll have to unlock the door, but you know how,” and he promptly turned to another customer.

  She grabbed her glass and headed through the crowded main room to the back, as instructed. A set of stairs was tucked to the rear of the small room that looked out onto the beer garden. Outside a breeze bustled around the courtyard garden, jostling the strings of fairy lights that lit up the drinkers still sitting outside. The back room was much quieter and darker than the main part of the pub, lit only by more fairy lights, candles on tables, and discreet up-lighting in the corners. It seemed that only locals were in here, and she nodded in greeting to a few she recognised.

  She headed up the stairs and onto a broad landing, shrouded in shadows, and found a locked door. She whispered a spell to unlock it, and hearing the lock click, she turned the handle and went in.

  Avery knew Alex had the whole of the first floor to himself. He didn’t rent any of the rooms out, saying it was too much work, but she had never seen it before and she was surprised at how good it looked. He had knocked through as many walls as safety allowed, and consequently his flat was large and roomy, with an open plan kitchen and living area, exposed brick walls, and a massive fireplace. A tan leather sofa, enormous and squashy, dominated the living area, and a large rug covered the polished floorboards. She was impressed. Alex had style. Taking advantage of being the first there, she had a quick peak around and found there was a single bedroom leading off and a bathroom, and that was it.

  Drawn by the thought of food, she headed to the kitchen, and found a few covered dishes of crackers, olives, and pickles. She nibbled a few olives and sipped her wine, wondering where the others were, but within seconds the door opened and Briar arrived, halting with surprise when she saw Avery in the kitchen.

  Briar was about the same age as Avery, late-twenties, with hazel eyes and chestnut brown hair that fell in waves past her shoulders. She was petite, barely past five feet, and slim. She wore lace and lots of white and pastel shades, and of all of the witches was not only the best with herbs and potions, but also at healing. Briar sold creams and lotions, herbal medicines, and old remedies in her shop, Charming Balms Apothecary. She had deliberately made it old-fashioned and everyone loved it, especially because her stuff worked. Skin did look better, eyes were brighter, nails were stronger, old ailments were eased. The magic was subtle, but it was there.

  There was something very soft and gentle about Briar, usually. Avery detected a slight prickle to her at the moment, however. She shut the door behind her and said, “So you came! I really didn’t expect you would.”

  Avery felt a bit shocked. Was she that unsociable? She gave a half-smile. “I wasn’t sure I would either, but here I am.” She wondered if Briar was put out. “How are you? It’s been a while.”

  “I’m fine, Avery. Just busy. The shop is very popular at the moment. Can’t complain, it’s summer season. It will slow down soon enough.”

  “I know what you mean,” Avery nodded. “I’ve been busy, too.”

  Briar didn’t waste time. She leaned against the counter from the living room side, sipping her white wine. “So what’s this meeting about? It must be important, you don’t normally come here.”

  The word ‘normally’ gave Avery a jolt. “No, I don’t,” she answered. “But Alex insisted.”

  Briar laughed. “And when has that ever made a difference?”

  Before she could answer, Gil, Elspeth, and Alex arrived together, bringing in a jumble of laughter and chatter.

  Alex looked surprised. “Great, you’re here too, Briar! I didn’t see you arrive.”

  “You were busy,” she said, hugging him. “Simon served me.”

  Avery was already feeling like the outsider; they all looked pretty comfortable together. She wondered if it showed when Elspeth came round the counter into the kitchen and hugged her.

  It had been a while since Avery had seen her, and she’d forgotten how gorgeous she was. Elspeth was tall and graceful, with long blonde, almost white hair that cascaded down her back. She always wore red lipstick that looked even brighter against her pale skin, but she also wore lots of jewellery. Rings, a nose piercing, necklaces, and lots of bangles, and she nearly always wore skinny black jeans, biker boots, and rock t-shirts. Elspeth owned a jewellery shop, and sold her own designs as well as things she brought in. All of her jewellery had a little magic woven through it. She sold charms and amulets that really worked, as well as pendants, rings, earrings, hair clips, pins, and brooches. She had spelled positive energies into them, and used gemstones as well. She must be making more things lately, from what Alex had said.

  “Avery! It’s great you’re here. Alex said you were coming, but I didn’t believe him.”

  “Elspeth, hi,” she managed to murmur through the hug.

  “El, please, not Elspeth! I love your hair, Avery, it’s such a beautiful colour.”

  “Thank you,” she said, suddenly conscious of her long, dark red hair.

  In contrast, Gil stood next to El looking quite homely. He was shorter than Alex, his short dark brown hair was neat, and he wore a plain t-shirt and dark blue jeans. Gil ran a plant nursery called Greenlane Nursery out of the extensive grounds of his house, and it was very popular. He employed half a dozen locals, supplying hanging baskets to shops and businesses, and helped White Haven to compete in an annual garden competition, Britain in Bloom. He sold the usual annuals, perennials, and shrubs, but he specialised in herbs. Gil’s family were rich and he had inherited the house and grounds, most of which were private, apart from the nursery and show garden.

  Gil grabbed her in a bear hug. “Lovely to see you, Avery.”

  Avery felt flustered, and tried to laugh it off. “Well, it’s nice to be wanted. I think.” She took a large sip of wine, and a few deep breaths while the new arrivals grabbed drinks from the fridge, and Alex pulled out cheese and pate.

  He loaded up a tray and handed it to Avery. “Would you mind?”

  “No,” she stuttered. “Where do you want it?”

  “The coffee table,” he directed, and picked up another tray and headed to the living room.

  The group trailed after them, Gil and Elspeth sitting on the couch, while the others sat on huge floor cushions. Avery felt a whisper of magic and the lights around the room dimmed, as the fire flared in the fireplace.

  “That’s better,” El said. “I was starting to feel chilly.” Her long limbs were crossed beneath her on the couch, and she took a large slug of bottled beer.

  Avery realised it really had been a long time since she’d seen them, and she felt suddenly guilty, although she couldn’t work out why. She thought of the photo of Gil and again wondered what to do. As if he read her mind, Gil caught her eye and smiled.

  “Come on, then,” Briar said. “What’s going on?”

  “Does anything have to be going on?” Alex said. “Can’t five witches get together for Friday drinks?”

  “Four witches sometimes get together—Avery does not. Therefore, something must have happened.”

  Alex glanced at Avery. “We’ve both had a premonition. Enough to merit bringing it to everyone’s attention.”

  “What kind of premonition?” Gil asked, concerned.

  “Ladies first,” Alex said, winking at her.

  Avery tried not to glare at him. “
I read the cards and saw that something is coming. Something dark. Something that will threaten us. I read the cards several times and saw the same things—the Tower, Death, the Fool, the Moon, and many sword cards. And then Alex came to see me.” She turned to him and found him watching her, his eyes narrowed as he listened. “What about you, Alex? You never said what you saw.”

  “I was sitting here—well, at the counter, actually,” he said, nodding to the long counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. “I was just looking into my coffee thinking about what I had to do that day when I experienced a rush of darkness, almost a blackout, and I saw a man coming. He was dark-haired but faceless, and he brought danger. I could see blood and steel, maybe a blade. And a burning anger and desire. It was so strong, I knocked my cup over and almost scalded myself.”

  Gil leaned forward, “Did you recognise him? Anything that was familiar?”

  “Nothing.” Alex was a joker, a tease, but there was nothing light about his mood tonight. “It felt personal, though.”

  “But what could he want?” Elspeth asked. “We have nothing that anyone who knows magic could desire. Nothing unusual, nothing powerful.” She looked around the group, perplexed and questioning, “Well, I haven’t, anyway.”

  Avery shook her head slowly. “Me, neither.” The others agreed, although Gil looked down at the floor, lost in thought. Avery looked over at Alex. “But how did you know that I would have seen it, too? It was bit odd that you simply arrived at two in the morning.”

  He hesitated for a moment, and then said, “You, more than any of us—well, other than me—have the gift of sight. As soon as I had my vision, I knew you had sensed something, too. I waited all day to see if the feeling would go, and it didn’t. It woke me up and I had to see you, straight away.” He shrugged, looking at her with an unusual intimacy, “I can’t explain it other than that.”