White Haven and the Lord of Misrule

by TJ Green

Alex threw a witch-light to the ceiling and led them down the corridor, past offices and store rooms, until they reached a large reception area where there was a desk to sign in and a security screening area.

  “Wow,” Avery said, surprised. “You have to be searched to get in?”

  “That’s the way of the world, Ave,” he said, scooting through it and looking at the binder on the desk with the councillors’ rooms listed. “Thank the Gods they’re not fully computerised.”

  “We’d have had to do it the long way. Search room by room.”

  “It might come to that yet,” he said, scanning the pages for Stan’s name. “Here we go. Level two, room 24. Let’s hope that makes sense when we get there.”

  They headed up the stairs to the second floor, and followed the directions to the right, eventually finding themselves in a messy, open-plan office with half a dozen tables. The windows were uncovered, and the streetlights illuminated the crowded space, so Alex banished the witch-light as they searched for Stan’s desk.

  “Blimey. I can smell it already,” Avery said, hurrying to a corner desk covered in mounds of paperwork and lifting something bulky off his chair. “He didn’t even hang it up!”

  Alex took the jester’s costume from her, surprised at its weight. “This is really good quality.”

  “I know, but to be honest, it looks it. I mean, check out the details.” She moved to a patch of light and pointed at the stitching and the intricacy of the ruff around the neck. “The scent is odd. Sweet—like honey, blossom, and something else.”

  Alex lifted it to his face and inhaled, and felt a sudden rush of dizziness as his magic swelled unexpectedly. “Woah.” He held it at arm’s length. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Avery took the costume from him and draped it over the desk. “Are you all right?”

  He shook his head, dazed for a moment. “I’ll be fine. It just gave me a head rush.”

  Avery gasped. “Your hands. They’re glowing!”

  Alex had been so focussed on clearing his head that he hadn’t even looked down, but now he saw a glittery glow on his palms. “Is that me or the costume?”

  Avery cupped his cheeks as she turned his face towards her. “Look at me. Your eyes…they have a glitter too, deep within them.”

  “Really? I admit I felt my magic grow—but I didn’t even try. Even so, I don’t normally glow like I’m bloody radioactive!”

  She turned to the costume again. “It’s that. And look,” she stepped closer, lowering her head, but not touching it. “The thread looks silvery, all the stitching.” She looked up, a triumphant smile on her face. “Your magic doesn’t normally just spark up for no reason. Your magic and its magic have triggered each other!”

  “But you’re touching it and it didn’t do that!” Alex felt like an idiot.

  “I didn’t inhale a big waft of it though, did I?” She looked out of the window at the deserted street, her gaze distant. “Rupert’s eyes looked terrible today. Bloodshot and dark—and he seemed odd. Actually, he looked like what he is, someone with a dark soul, someone who delights in other’s misfortune. But you…” she looked at him again, smiling. “You look even more handsome than normal.”

  Alex thought he was still being affected by the costume. “What? Have you gone loopy?”

  “No! But I have had an idea. I’m going to snip off a bit of this costume, and we can analyse it later.”

  “You can’t cut it up!” he said, watching her, but equally not wanting to handle the costume again. “Be careful.”

  “I’ll take some from the inner hems. Unnoticeable,” she reassured him as she searched in Stan’s drawers for scissors. “Here we go.”

  She snipped some of the material off, putting it in an envelope that she plucked off the desk and placing it in her bag, before inspecting the collar. “No maker’s label, not surprising.”

  “And no sign of the box, either,” Alex said, poking around behind Stan’s desk. He felt better now, as if his rush of magic had dissipated. “Let’s search the cupboards, and if it’s not here, we need to head to the storage rooms. He said before that they were in the basement.”

  “But they were clearing them out, remember?” Avery said, placing the costume where she found it and then heading to a large wall cupboard and throwing open the door. “And look how much stuff is in this room! It will be here somewhere.”

  For a few minutes they searched silently and methodically, but as Alex opened another large cupboard, a strange scent hit him afresh. Directly in front of him on the middle shelf was a large cardboard box covered in peeling address slips, and gingerly he reached inside and lifted it out. Immediately he felt the tingle again, and images raced through his mind, unbidden. He froze, cradling the box to his chest as he filtered through them.

  He saw figures in a darkened room. Three—no two, before a fire. There was a pot…or actually, a cauldron, suspended above the flames. He heard a muttering voice, and felt something he couldn’t quite place pricking his consciousness. In seconds the vision had gone, and Avery was next to him.

  “Are you okay?”

  He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’m fine. But this,” he tapped the box, “has given me a vision that I need to think about.” He made a quick decision. “We need to take it with us.”

  “But they’ll see it’s missing!”

  “No they won’t, not yet. They won’t pack the costumes away until all this is over. We can bring it back before then. And if anyone does miss it, they’ll think it’s been misplaced.” He gestured around him. “This room is full of crap. Trust me. I need this!”

  “All right. In that case, it’s time to go.”

  Seven

  Newton pulled his collar up and glanced at Briar walking beside him. She was so small, barely up to his chest, and yet energy radiated from her, pure and beautiful, making her seem bigger somehow. And she was very pretty. Her dark hair fell down her back, and she was wearing the cutest green hat that matched her winter coat.

  He wanted to stare, to drink her in, but instead looked away to the sea on his left, storm grey under the cloudy sky, with barely a glimpse of starlight. He tried to sound casual. “So, how have you been? It feels it’s been ages since I’ve seen you.”

  “You see me all the time,” she said, smiling up at him.

  “You know what I mean. On your own. We’re always with people.”

  She teased him. “Our friends, you mean?”

  “Yes, those.” He tried not to sound resentful. As close as he was to the other witches, it was Briar he most related to, and it was Briar he had rejected—like a fool. It was why he’d suggested the walk, if he was honest. “I’m just saying, it’s nice to see you alone for a change.”

  “You too, Newton,” she said softly. “And I’ve been fine, thank you. Business is good, life is good.”

  “How’s Eli working out?”

  “Amazingly! I’m lucky to have him. Customers love him, and he’s taught me so many skills with herbs.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Most people think it’s the other way around, and while I’m sure I’ve taught him things, he has a wealth of knowledge that has been lost for generations. He’s really enhanced my magic.”

  “Good. It’s nice to know they’re not all murderers.”

  “Newton!” She slapped his arm. “They are not murderers! They defend themselves—and others—when they need to. They’re good men. Kind men. I know they didn’t have a great start in this world, but they are making up for it.”

  Newton grunted begrudgingly. “I suppose so.”

  “You know so!”

  He smiled at her. She was never afraid to call him out on things. “Yeah, all right. I know so.”

  “And having Cassie work with me is great, too. It’s weird to think that I used to work alone. My current arrangement is so much better! And what about you?” she asked, as they turned from the quayside and passed down the lane leading to the road that White Haven Little Theatre was on.
r />   “I’m fine, I guess. Muddling along as head of the bloody paranormal division.”

  “You do more than muddle! You’re good at it,” Briar remonstrated. “You listen to people and believe them—and Moore does, too. You have no idea how much that means. You were clearly destined for it.”

  “I don’t believe in destiny.”

  “You should. The fates have something for all of us. Our meeting you was fate.”

  “I love your optimism, Briar. I wish I could be so positive.” He groaned inwardly. Why had he said that? It made him sound so miserable. Then again, he was sometimes…about everything.

  She slipped her arm through his and squeezed it, and it was as if an electric current had raced through him. “You have a hard job. I couldn’t do what you do. All that death and dealing with the grieving. But you must remember the positives, too. Your friends, great colleagues, the fact that you’re well respected and have a very interesting job!”

  “Yeah, but I go home to an empty house every night.” He met her gaze with a weak smile. “And that’s my own fault.”

  She hesitated for just a second before saying, “So do I, but that’s okay.”

  “But you’re not alone, are you? You have Hunter,” he said, cursing himself for being so direct. But who was he kidding? His presence hung between them, even now.

  “But he’s a long way away, with his own family and the demands of his pack. That makes it hard.”

  His heart skipped and he looked at her hopefully. “Too hard?”

  She stopped and turned to look at him. “And what if it were? Would it change anything? Because there’s a reason we’re not together, Newton.”

  His breath caught in his throat as he looked at her gentle expression, and he swallowed. “I know. The whole witchy magic thing threw me… Unseated my equilibrium. I wasn’t sure if it was something I could live with. But now,” he faltered, certain of his feelings, but not her response. “Now I’m fine with it. I see it every day, work with it, and I know that your magic is the purest, the best of all. I know that you are thoughtful, beautiful inside and out, and I know that I was an utter fool.” He clasped her small hands in his. “I’m sorry. I hurt you.”

  She sighed. “You didn’t do it deliberately. You were confused, I know that.” She freed one hand and reached up to stroke his cheek. “I didn’t handle it well, either.”

  “So, what now?” he asked, feeling an absurd hope well up inside him. He wanted to kiss her, but knew that would be a mistake.

  She dropped her eyes and her hand, and tucking her arm back in his, pulled him along the street again. “Now things are more complicated, aren’t they?”

  “They don’t have to be.”

  “And yet they are.” She leaned into him and smiled. “We’re supposed to be looking for paranormal weirdness here!”

  “Bollocks to it. Just walking and chatting with you is much better.” He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close as they walked, imagining that perhaps this is how it could have been if he hadn’t been such a spectacular arse.

  And regardless of paranormal oddities, White Haven was still magical to walk through at Christmas. The lights, the pagan Yuletide decorations, the Christmas trees, the planter boxes filled with holly and winter pansies. The sound of the sea. It was enough to lift his hardened heart.

  “All right, let’s just do that then.” Briar slipped her arm around his waist, snuggling under his coat, as they started their slow walk through the centre of White Haven. “And then I’ll make you a hot toddy when we get back, and we can talk some more.”

  “Deal.” And Newton knew that for now, this would have to be enough.

  Halfway through Tuesday morning, Avery was restocking the books displayed around Dan’s reading area at the back of the shop and mulling over what type of spell she could use on the scrap of fabric from the jester’s costume, when an enormous scream broke the muffled chatter of Happenstance Books.

  Avery ran through the stacks, arriving in the occult section at the same time as Dan, and saw a woman standing in the centre of the aisle staring at Helena, her ghost ancestor, who was casually searching through the books. Helena’s dark hair was loose, and she was dressed in her habitual long black gown, cinched tight at the waist with an elaborately embroidered bodice. Unbelievably, she was looking utterly relaxed as she slowly turned the pages of the book in her hand, and she was completely aware of her surroundings. She looked at the screaming woman as if she’d gone mad.

  Avery couldn’t help herself. “Helena! What are you doing here?”

  She didn’t answer, obviously, and instead just smiled in her enigmatic way, and returned to reading the book.

  By now, other customers had come running, and an outraged, “Fuck! That’s a bloody ghost!” emitted from one young man’s mouth.

  “Er, Avery?” Dan muttered to her as he tried to pull the terror-stricken woman out of the way. “Can you do something?”

  Avery straightened her shoulders. There was no point trying to deny this was happening, and by now, a few hardened souls who refused to be terrified by a ghost—not at least before they had photos—had pulled their phones out and were watching, fascinated.

  “Helena!” Avery commanded, “You need to leave. You are scaring everyone!” She made herself smile, although it felt like the falsest one she’d made in her whole life, and turned to her shocked customers. “She’s absolutely harmless. Please don’t worry.” Avery studied a dozen faces around her, some familiar, others not. Most seemed transfixed, while others just looked amused.

  Meanwhile, Sally was desperately trying to hustle them away. “Just follow me, I have mince pies and chocolates at the counter!”

  One man turned and ran out of the shop, the woman who had screamed fainted into Dan’s arms, and the others didn’t move, either because they couldn’t or wouldn’t.

  Avery wished the ground would swallow her up, but instead turned back to Helena. She, in turn, picked up another book as though she hadn’t a care in the world. Avery’s mind was trying to deal with several things at once. How could Helena pick up a book? She was very obviously a ghost—Avery could see straight through her. And why was she manifesting now when she had never, ever done so before in the shop?

  Keeping her lips firmly clenched, and without thinking of the wisdom of her next actions, Avery silently uttered a spell that would stop all the phones working. From the gasps around her, she knew she had succeeded, and then saw their phones bloom with a silvery light. The spell she was about to utter to banish Helena died on her lips as everyone stared at her.

  Helena raised an eyebrow, glanced at Avery as if to say, What now? and then resumed reading.

  Avery turned to the customers. “I’m so sorry, but I must close the shop.”

  “What?” a young man said, clearly disappointed. “But this is so cool! You’ve got a freaking ghost? And she looks just like you! And you look kind of…odd.”

  “Nevertheless,” Avery said, sweeping forward with her arms outstretched, “you all need to go. We will re-open this afternoon for the Christmas reading!” At least she hoped they would. “Dan, what story is it today?”

  Dan was standing with the young woman in his arms, looking shell-shocked. “Er, it’s Dickens’s A Christmas Carol again. The ghost of Christmas past, strangely enough.”

  “How fabulously appropriate,” Avery beamed, wishing her eyes emitted fire. “Take the young lady to the back room, and everyone else, out please!”

  She and Sally herded them along like sheep, Sally virtually throwing sweets and mince pies as she hustled them out the door, and then with a sigh, slammed it shut and leaned against it.

  But the customers hadn’t actually gone. They were peering through the windows, hands against the glass.

  “Drop the blinds, Sally.”

  “We never drop the blinds!” Sally said as she glanced nervously to the back of the shop where Helena lurked. “I don’t even know if they work!”

  “Just
do it!”

  The temptation to shut them using magic was huge, but that really wouldn’t help matters, so Avery left Sally to it, and returned to the occult section to find that Helena was still there, looking amused.

  Avery rounded on her. “This is not funny! You are damaging my business!”

  Helena merely eye-rolled, which exasperated Avery even more.

  “Don’t eye-roll me like some stroppy teen! Get out!”

  Helena just shrugged and the scent of violets flowed from her, as well as a waft of smoke.

  “Do you mean to say you can’t?”

  Helena clapped, her smile patronising.

  Avery had a moment of clarity, and cursing herself for her stupidity, fumbled in her pocket and extracted the swatch of fabric from the crumpled envelope. “Is it this?”

  Helena took it from her with her pale, bloodless fingers, turning it over slowly as she stroked it. She pressed it to her cheek and then inhaled. Her dark eyes fixed on Avery and she nodded as she handed it back.

  “Fuck it all!” Avery yelled, wishing she’d never brought it home. “Any ideas, Helena?”

  She shrugged again and turned away. Avery marched back to Sally who had managed to shut the blinds, sealing them into a gloomy interior, lit only by hundreds of fairy lights.

  Sally was standing by the counter, hand on her heart, eyes wide. “Has she gone?”

  “No! She’s browsing like she’s got all bloody day. And it’s my fault!” Avery shook the fabric at her. “I took this from Stan’s costume last night!”

  Sally recoiled. “Is that what’s causing this?”

  “I think so. I’m wondering if I take it out to the garden shed if that would help. I was scared to try and banish her after the phone fiasco.”

  “The silvery light-thing? Yes, it affected you, too. It’s like we could see your magic!” Sally lowered her voice, as if someone would overhear her. “I don’t wish to offend Helena, but I don’t think I can work with her in the shop.”

  “You can offend Helena all you like,” Avery said. “She won’t hurt you. But she may like to tease you. I’ve discovered she has a rather wicked sense of humour. However,” she added, alarmed at Sally’s expression, “she is very loyal to us, and that means you, too. You’re my friend.”