White Haven and the Lord of Misrule

by TJ Green

  Sally made a very obvious effort to pull herself together. “Okay. We need a plan. We have to open the shop as quickly as possible to allay gossip…though there’ll be lots anyway, I know. You get that fabric out of the shop. And I suggest you set up your shed with a heater and try to analyse that thing. I’ll keep an eye on Helena and see if she goes. At least your silvery glow has gone now.”

  Avery didn’t even want to think about that. “And you’ll be okay?”

  Sally squeaked as Helena glided into view and studied some more books. “Yes, just go—quickly. Maybe once it’s out you can cleanse the space or something.”

  “Thank you, Sally!” Avery said, pulling her into a quick hug. “I’ll check on Dan on the way through.”

  Leaving Sally stoically trying to keep it together in the shop, Avery hurried to the back room to see Dan sitting next to the young woman who’d screamed, plying her with biscuits and hot tea. She was horribly pale, and was clutching her mug so tightly that her knuckles were white.

  “This is Debbie,” Dan said, his stare willing Avery to be calm. “And she’s starting to feel a little better.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that,” Avery said gently. “When you’re ready—and take all the time you need—I suggest you leave by the back door. And whatever book you want is completely free! Dan, you’ll sort everything? I have to go and attend to the issue.”

  Dan nodded, but the woman just stared at her as if she’d spoken in a foreign language. Not even pausing to grab her jacket, Avery ran out of the back door, across the lane, and through the thick wooden gate into her garden. Shivering, she jogged down the path to the shed, and once inside took a deep breath, placed the fabric on the potting bench, and glared at it.

  “This is your fault! What spell has someone cast on you?”

  The fabric looked normal enough in the daylight. It didn’t glow or do anything odd, and such a tiny portion only gave off the slightest scent. But one thing was sure. She couldn’t work in here yet. It was so cold she could see her breath puffing in small clouds in front of her. Fortunately, there was a heater in one of the cupboards that she used in her greenhouse in early spring.

  Rummaging around, she found it and plugged it in, and then swept the remnants of soil, old plant labels, and fertiliser off the bench top, ready to work. She’d need to retrieve her grimoires and other equipment first, and grab a jumper, and then she could begin. But before that she’d cleanse the shop of whatever residual energies were left. She could not afford to let Helena stay in the shop, or possibly return there.

  Eight

  Reuben was working in Greenlane Nursery’s office when Harlan Beckett called him, wrestling with accounts that he normally let his manager sort out. Unfortunately, every now and again, Reuben had a fit of conscience and felt he should take more of an active interest in the finances, and hence he was there now, trying to concentrate and failing miserably.

  He answered the call with relief. “Hey Harlan, any luck with our problem?”

  “Yes and no,” he said sounding despondent, which exacerbated his American accent. “There are numerous antique shops in Bath, as you can imagine, but I found Wellspring Antiques easy enough. I haven’t dealt with it before, but they sure do have a few occult objects in here. However, the owner is giving me nothing!”

  Reuben groaned and leaned back, the old chair creaking beneath him. “But Rupert was only there a few months ago.”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong, he remembers the sale. But man,” he groaned with annoyance, and Reuben could hear how frustrated Harlan was, “the guy who owns it is old, like a wizened dwarf, and he’s the stubbornest old bastard I’ve come across in a long time.”

  An image of someone from a fantasy film popped into Reuben’s mind as he tried to imagine the owner. “He couldn’t tell you anything?” he asked, easing out of the chair and walking through the office and into the adjoining greenhouse while he talked.

  “Couldn’t or wouldn’t. Says he remembers the costumes, but not where they came from. It’s a dead end.”

  “It was always a long shot,” Reuben admitted, absently looking at the long workbenches filled with seed trays. “I guess we thought if the owner had a record of the costumes, it might give us something to go on. You know, whether he had cast the spell or had bought them like that.”

  “This guy’s odd, but I don’t think he dabbles with magic. There are numerous occult dealers across the country, and most are dealers, not witches or magicians.” Harlan’s job with The Orphic Guild meant he was constantly searching and acquiring occult items for clients, and he knew that world far better than the witches did.

  Reuben recalled the conversation he’d had with Alex that morning. “Alex and Avery found the box the costumes were stored in last night, but Alex has yet to examine it properly. It might tell us something.” He paused and then added, “It gave him a vision too, one he’s hoping to repeat later.” Reuben worried about Alex’s vision states. They could be dangerous, but he had to concede that Alex was good at it, and besides, no one else could do it.

  “Then what?” Harlan asked.

  “We find out what spell is on the clothes and reverse it.”

  “Can’t you just burn the costumes?”

  “It has crossed our minds, but that means getting all of them, so that’s four houses to break into. It’s too risky.” Although it might come to that anyway, Reuben reflected, if they needed all the costumes to stop the spell.

  He chatted with Harlan for a few more minutes and then rang off, promising to keep each other updated. As the call ended, Ash, the Greek Nephilim who looked like a golden-eyed God, entered the greenhouse. He was carrying a large tub filled with compost and looking perplexed, and as he placed it on the gravel covered ground, said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “You didn’t, and it was just Harlan. And no, he’s had no luck,” knowing what Ash was about to ask. “But your glamour is holding.”

  “Just.” He glanced behind him at his shoulders. “Your spell was good, but I can feel it weakening. I’m not sure you’ll see me tomorrow.” Ash worked in the nursery doing whatever needed to be done, although he worked less hours than he used to, as their own business had taken off.

  Reuben nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll still pay you. After all, this isn’t your fault. And I think we’re making progress,” he said, updating him on Alex and Avery’s news as he had Harlan.

  “Good. Gabe is going stir crazy because nothing is working on him. His wings are very visible and his—” he grimaced, searching for the right word, “presence, I guess I’d call it, is very obvious!”

  “Really?” Reuben pocketed his phone and leaned on the bench. “What’s so different about Gabe?”

  “Nothing so far as we know. But he is the strongest, probably. Mentally, at least.” He shrugged. “Maybe that’s it.”

  Reuben nodded as he thought through the discussions they’d had. “We think this magic is enhancing traits—not just revealing other magic—so that would make sense.” He gave a dry laugh. “As much as anything makes sense.” Another thought struck Reuben. “Have you been into White Haven over the last few days, or seen any of the jesters?”

  “No, so I’m not sure why I’m affected—other than my contact with Gabe, Zee, Eli, and Shadow, of course.”

  “And me!” Reuben shook his head, confused. “That is weird. It’s like we’re infecting you with the spell. Either way, I guess breaking the spell is the same. Of course, it could just be that as soon as the twelve days of the Court of Fools is over, it will resolve itself.”

  “But until then, things are escalating. I’m not sure anyone can wait that long—including the regular people of White Haven. I was chatting to Scott this morning. He says the town feels strange to him.” Scott was one of Reuben’s older, more experienced gardeners who was employed year-round, and helped serve in the shop during the winter months.

  “What kind of strange?”

  Ash laughed. “You k
now Scott. He’s not exactly loquacious.”

  “Well, I guess for Scott to say that, then we really should take notice.” As the light shifted and dimmed with the cloud cover that had been gusting over all morning, Ash’s wings became suddenly visible, admittedly translucent, but still there. “Yep, they’re back,” Reuben said, grateful that in the winter months there was less staff around. “You need to go home now.”

  After lunch, Avery re-opened Happenstance Books after first using a smudge stick to cleanse the space. Helena had vanished, and with the blinds open, the shop looked as normal as it usually did. Well, all except for the huge queue of people waiting to come in.

  “Oh no,” Sally muttered to Avery as she secured the final blind. “This afternoon is going to be busy.”

  “Remember what we discussed,” Avery said to her and Dan who was trying to appear nonchalant behind the counter. “It’s nothing to worry about. Just a minor mishap.”

  “Yes,” Dan nodded. “We have ghosts here every day!”

  Avery ignored him and unlocked the doors with a flourish. “Welcome, all!”

  Treeve was at the head of the queue, and as he hustled in, he asked, “Is it true? Is she here?”

  “No! Well, yes it was true, but now she’s gone.”

  But Avery was talking to his back, because he was already leading a stream of people to the occult section.

  As Avery was about to sit behind the counter and keep out of everyone’s way, she heard a familiar voice saying, “Avery! I hope you don’t mind—we’d love to do a segment for the local news!” Suppressing a groan and pasting another cheerful smile on her face, Avery turned to see Sarah Rutherford, the bubbly blonde local news reporter, and right behind her was her cameraman. “I hear you had a ghost in here this morning!”

  “Hi Sarah, I’m really sorry to disappoint you, but there’s actually nothing to see. She’s gone!”

  Sarah’s bright smile was not budging. “But it would be so wonderful to film in here, and see where she appeared. If you could describe how she looked, what she did…”

  Avery grabbed Sarah’s elbow and pulled her out of the doorway and to the counter, nervously noting that the cameraman was already setting his equipment up. She lowered her voice. “I’m not sure it’s such a good idea. The poor woman who saw her first this morning was very distressed!” She shot Dan a look that demanded he support her.

  He nodded sagely. “Yes, very upset. It took a lot of tea and cake to sort her out.”

  “Oh, come on!” Sarah said, pointing behind her to the excited customers who were chatting loudly and comparing notes. Avery spotted a couple who were there at the time and had obviously come back for more. “Look at them! This is great for business!”

  “It’s true, Ave,” Dan said, apologetically. “I’ll do the interview if you want.”

  “Well, that would be lovely,” Sarah said, smiling gratefully. “But Avery, we’d love to interview you, too. I gather you called her ‘Helena.’ Does that mean you know her? Was it—” she lowered her voice and leaned closer, “your poor ancestor who was burned at the stake?”

  Avery froze, cursing her loose mouth that morning, but there was no getting out of it. “Yes, it was. She has visited before, but in my flat, not here. She is completely harmless.” Sarah did not need to know how many times she’d appeared, or that she’d tried to steal her body once before.

  “That’s such a great story. Please?” Sarah wheedled.

  Avery saw Sally and Dan look at her expectantly, and sighed. “All right.”

  As soon as Briar arrived at Avery and Alex’s flat on Tuesday evening, she gave Avery a hug. Avery’s long, red hair was caught up in a messy bun on her head, and she looked exasperated.

  “Oh, Avery! It sounds like you had a very trying day.”

  “That’s one word for it,” Avery grumbled as she led her upstairs to the attic spell room. “Bloody Helena. I should have known this weird magic would have caused her to appear in the worst possible place!”

  “It was a good interview, though,” she said, trying to cheer her up. “I saw it this evening before I left home. You did a very good job of keeping things light. So did Dan.”

  As they entered the attic, Briar saw she was the last to arrive. The other witches and Newton were clustered around the big wooden table at the end of the room where Avery and Alex worked their spells. The grimoires were open, and a bright piece of fabric was in the centre of the table. And Helena was there too, sitting on the sofa in front of the fire. She looked at Briar briefly before turning her gaze back to the flames.

  “Oh!” Briar exclaimed, trying not to stare. “I wasn’t expecting to see Helena.”

  “I’m afraid that until we sort this out,” Avery explained, ignoring her ghost ancestor completely, “she’s here to stay.”

  “Is that the offending piece of costume?” Briar asked as she slipped off her coat and joined the others, trying to appear as relaxed about Helena’s presence as everyone else.

  “The very same,” Reuben said, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Don’t get too close. You may turn into a toad! Or summon your own ghosts.”

  “Very funny!” she said as she returned Newton’s warm smile. She was glad she’d spent so much time with him the previous night. She’d missed him, and sipping a hot toddy with him into the early hours of the morning had strengthened their friendship. Once again, she wondered what to do about Hunter. Not that she could think about that now as she settled in to discuss their options.

  “I spent some time this afternoon—after the press had gone,” Avery explained, “trying a few different spells on this, but so far I’m getting nowhere.”

  El picked up the cloth with a pair of tweezers and studied it under the lamplight. “Is it big enough to do anything with?”

  Alex pointed at Helena. “It was big enough to summon Helena into the shop, and it’s big enough to keep her here now. She doesn’t normally hang about this long, or have such a vibrant presence.”

  Helena didn’t respond to their stares, instead reading a book and ignoring them.

  “What’s she reading?” Newton asked.

  “Jane Eyre.” Avery pointed to the books stacked on the coffee table. “She’s also got Pride and Prejudice, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, and The Woman in White.”

  “She’s planning on staying, then?” Briar said, thankful she only had the Green Man running amok in her shop.

  “I don’t think she has much choice,” Avery conceded.

  El wrinkled her nose and wafted the fabric. “You’re sure it’s this?”

  “Absolutely,” Avery said. “I took it to the shed, and within five minutes Helena followed it there. I cleansed the shop afterwards, but I’m not sure it helped. To be honest,” she added, staring at it bleakly, “I didn’t want to bring it back in here. But even with the heater going it was too cold to work out there. I’ll take it back out tomorrow morning, and hope Helena will follow again.”

  Briar nodded as understanding dawned. “It’s like a magnet to her…it holds her within its orbit.”

  “The same way as it’s affecting other paranormal and magical things,” Alex said. “It exaggerates them all.”

  “Even when they’re not close,” Reuben added, idly turning the pages of one of the grimoires. “Ash hasn’t been in town or met any of the jesters, and yet he’s affected too, purely by association with ones who have.”

  El pushed her ringed fingers through her hair with a grimace. “At least as time passes, we have more of an idea of the power of the spell.”

  “But it’s growing every day!” Newton said grimly. “What could happen tomorrow?”

  Reuben nodded towards Helena. “Doesn’t she want to help with the spell?”

  Avery shot Helena an impatient look. “Not so far!”

  “Okay,” Briar said, turning her back on Helena and taking the fabric from El, “how far have you got with analysing this thing?” Avery was very good at new spells and deciphering old ones. It was o
ne of her skills, but she didn’t look particularly confident.

  Avery pulled her grimoire towards her. “I don’t think working in the shed was helping my concentration, to be honest, but I found lots of spells that work to reveal magic. I thought perhaps I could try a few on this to see if it would give up its secrets.”

  “Maybe,” El said, “that’s exactly the type of spell that was used on the costumes. That, or something to enhance magic. After all, it’s enhancing ours.”

  While they discussed various ideas, Briar studied the thick weave of the fabric and the delicate stitching.

  Newton leaned in close, and Briar could smell his fresh aftershave. “What are you thinking?”

  “That it’s very well made, and is good quality fabric. I’ve been studying their costumes when I’ve seen the jesters around town. They’re all fantastic. Someone spent a lot of time and effort on them.”

  Newton’s clear grey eyes stared into hers, and she felt a familiar warmth spread through her. “But what was its original purpose? And when were they made? I mean, are they really medieval?”

  “That’s a really good question.” Briar stared at the fabric again, and pictured Stan’s costume. “I don’t think they’re medieval…they’re too well preserved. Unless magic has protected them.” She grinned at Newton. “Maybe they really were made for a court—a proper court! That is what the Lord of Misrule was for, originally. To entertain the king. This could be old magic, cast by a powerful witch for a king…either medieval or Tudor, or even later!”

  Reuben leaned across the table. “What are you two looking so excited about?”

  “I was wondering if these really were made for a royal court,” Briar explained. “They’re just so good! So authentic!”

  The table fell quiet for a moment, and then Alex nodded. “That could work. The fleeting vision I had seemed old-fashioned.” And then his face brightened. “The box. It has writing on it.” Alex leapt from his chair and headed to the corner of the room, collected a box, and placed it on the table. “We found this in a cupboard in Stan’s office.”