Lily thanked Mrs. Falconer for her useful advice, glad the woman’s delight in chatting seemed to have distracted her from her question. She made a mental note to see if Hawkins could get them a room at the King’s Table.
They finished up their tea and as Sebastian helped their hostess with the dishes, Lily looked around for her cat. Neither he, nor Petunia, were anywhere in sight. She went outside and called for him, muttering quiet curses under her breath. With no reply, nor tinkle of Petunia’s bell, she gave up and went back inside, hoping he chose to grace them with his presence soon.
As she went back in the cottage, she heard Mrs. Falconer giving Hawkins detailed directions to the nearest main road, which would get them back on the motorway. Cyril chimed in every now and then, but it was clear he was only doing so because he’d gotten them lost in the first place and probably felt the need to be a part of the solution. Lily, for her part, wasn’t at all upset. She’d quite enjoyed tea, had desperately needed the air, and was glad they’d been able to keep a lonely woman company amidst her beautiful gardens.
Once ready to leave, Lily turned to thank Mrs. Falconer for her hospitality. The older woman took Lily’s hands in her own, giving them a kindly squeeze. Her hands were dry and leathery, but warm, and her grip strong, given character no doubt by the many hours spent tending her garden. Lily couldn’t help but feel a surge of affection for the woman. She reminded Lily of her own hardworking and sun-weathered mother who oversaw the care of all living things within her domain on their Alabama farm. Freda didn’t quite have Mrs. Falconer’s green thumb, but Lily knew the two would like each other if they could ever meet.
“Thank you very much for the tea, Mrs. Falconer. It was absolutely lovely. And I’m sure your directions will save us hours of wandering around, lost in the countryside. I don’t know how we can ever repay you.”
“Nonsense, dearie. You did me quite a service, keepin’ an old lady company. Though…” she hesitated, looking embarrassed.
“What is it?” Lily asked.
“Well, I’d ’ate to impose, but…you know I live alone, an’ me back an’ hips been givin’ me trouble…”
“Yes. How can we help?” Lily asked, ignoring Sebastian’s sigh of impatience behind her.
Mrs. Falconer smiled tentatively. “Seein’ as ’ow you ’ave three fine, strappin’ lads with you, I thought perhaps you could move a bit o’ rock for me.”
Lily’s smile turned into a full-blown Cheshire grin as Sebastian let out a groan.
It turned out Mrs. Falconer had a pile of large, flat river stones that a friend had collected for her to repair a spot in her garden wall. The gentleman who’d dropped them off had left them in the wrong place, and she didn’t feel up to carrying them all by herself over to her garden.
It didn’t take more than five minutes between Sebastian, Cyril, and Hawkins, but the way Sebastian grumbled and groaned you’d have thought he’d been sentenced to a prison camp in Siberia. To make matters even better—or worse depending on who you asked—Sir Kipling and Petunia showed up halfway through and perched on the garden wall to observe and comment on the entertainment.
Mrs. Falconer praised the men to the skies, which Lily noticed improved Sebastian’s mood considerably, despite his grumpy façade. As the men worked, the widow showed off her flowers to Lily, rattling off name after name in her thick Devonshire accent: cockscomb, lady’s teardrops, dinner plate dahlias, bears breeches, Japanese anemone, melancholy gentleman, bottlebrush, yellow tickseed, hibiscus, phlox, rosemary—Lily finally gave up trying to remember them all. She simply nodded and made appreciative noises, distracted by the sight of Sebastian with rolled-up sleeves, shirt taut against his lean muscles as he lugged rocks back and forth. She tried to relish the sight while not appearing to stare.
By the time they’d finished, washed up, and piled into the car, Sebastian seemed to have forgiven Lily for “inflicting” the whole ordeal on them. He even smiled when Yuki, having sidled, invisible, into the back, reappeared at Cyril’s feet, making the poor man jump in fright for at least the fourth time that day.
While Cyril and Sir Kipling muttered about bloody foxes, Sebastian and Yuki shared a laugh, and Hawkins started the car. They were on their way again, and, while today had tried her patience, Lily reflected that their eclectic crew of man and beast certainly promised for interesting times ahead.
2
Like a Thief in the Night
According to Mrs. Falconer, the King’s Table was further out than the rest of the hotels, but that suited Lily just fine. She didn’t want to advertise their presence and invite preemptive conflict with John Faust. They would have to be very careful when they went to Tintagel Castle tomorrow. Though she thought it unlikely, in theory John Faust could attack at any time if he knew where they were. More realistically, Lily suspected he would wait for them to find and open Morgan’s tomb and then swoop in, assuming he hadn’t been able to open it himself and was now long gone.
While she knew it would be wise to prepare for a fight, she still hoped to neutralize John Faust and her half siblings through cunning rather than do anything more drastic. The idea of killing anyone, let alone her own flesh and blood, was horrifying.
It was with such grim thoughts swirling through her brain that they finally reached their destination. As the coast and town of Tintagel grew closer, the landscape changed. Trees became more and more sparse, while the few that remained grew low, almost like bushes rather than proper trees. Livestock and crops were replaced by vast stretches of lonely fields and hedgerows. The sun was sinking rapidly and shone directly in their faces as they drove, giving everything a brief golden glow before darkness finally fell.
The King’s Table Inn, when they finally located it, turned out to be more of a manor house converted into a bed and breakfast rather than a traditional hotel. The building was two stories of grey stone with tiled roofs and a few outbuildings. Since Hawkins, as instructed by his master, insisted on footing the bill, Lily let him make the room arrangements while Sebastian and Cyril unloaded the car. It was rather amusing, as well as unnerving, to see Yuki sitting in the middle of the foyer observing their labor, safely invisible to the hotel staff and visitors. Sir Kipling stuck with her, mysteriously unspotted by the desk clerk as if he, too, had powers of invisibility.
Leaving the men to it, Lily found a quiet spot to make a phone call. Before leaving the US, she had promised Richard, the FBI agent, updates on their progress, since they were supposed to be working “together” to apprehend John Faust. With so many things having happened already, she couldn’t keep putting it off, and so dialed his number with trepidation. She might have forgiven him for trying to bug her house during their second—and last—date, but it was still extremely awkward talking to him.
Richard answered on the first ring. “Lily? How are things going? Is everything okay?”
“Hello Agent Grant,” she responded coolly, silently cursing caller ID. “Everything is fine.”
“Oh…great. Um, have you found John Faust?”
“Not yet, but we think we know where he is, um, headed. We’re in Tintagel at the moment. Another day or two and hopefully everything will be over. Have you made any progress on your end?”
“Uh—yeah, yeah. All the kids have had psych evals. None of them are talking much, but they all seem healthy. We’re notifying their families now. Problem is, there’s not, uh, much besides circumstantial evidence to, uh, tie Mr. LeFay to their kidnappings, or even to the facility we found. Everything is, um, owned by corporations hiding behind layers of shell companies, and the lady we picked up at the mental ward isn’t saying a word. We’re, you know, still working on it, but it may, uh, take a while to get things sorted out…”
“I see.” Lily said, wondering at Richard’s nervous tone.
“Yup. So, um…how is it in England? You staying somewhere nice?”
“Just a little hotel called the King’s Table. It is very beautiful here. I hope I can come back and vi
sit someday when…well, when things are back to normal.”
“Yeah…normal,” he chuckled, a thin sound that quickly petered off.
There was an awkward silence.
“So, I guess I’ll let you know how things turn out,” Lily said, wanting desperately to hang up.
“Uh, yeah! Great. I wish there was more I could do to help, but it being England and all…”
“It’s alright. Just keep investigating so you have plenty to…to get to the bottom of things,” she finished wearily. Should they ever actually subdue John Faust, she doubted a federal prison would be the wisest place to send him. She hoped there was some sort of wizard prison or island of exile she didn’t know about where the wizard community sent their bad apples. What else could they do with him? Lily massaged her temples, wishing that Madam Barrington would get better and take over this whole mess. She would know what to do.
“We’ll get it done. Everything’s going to be alright.” Richard said, voice soft and reassuring as if he could sense the weary bend of her shoulders and wanted to provide some amount of comfort despite the thousands of miles between them.
No matter how much she wished for a comforting arm just then, she knew it wouldn’t be wise to encourage him. Squaring her shoulders, she finished in a businesslike tone. “I’m sure you will. Thank you, Agent Grant. Goodbye.”
He sighed. “Goodbye…Miss Singer.”
Lily hung up, not waiting to see if he would say anything else, and went to help Sebastian with the luggage. Her mood was not improved by the news that, due to a booking error and some unexpected renovations, there were only two rooms available rather than the promised three, though one of them did have twin beds.
All five of her male companions, four-footed and two, looked at her, apparently awaiting her say in the matter. Well, the three humans didn’t really look at her, just in her general direction while avoiding her gaze with varying degrees of awkwardness. The feline and canine of the group, in contrast, stared directly at her in obvious fascination.
Lily deliberated, weighing convention with convenience. They’d already unloaded everything and, though it wasn’t terribly late, she was still weary to the bone and just wanted to eat something and go to sleep.
“Sebastian and I will take the room with twin beds,” she finally declared, annoyed at the whole situation, not to mention the little thrill she felt at the idea of sharing a room with Sebastian. Grabbing her bags, she stomped off after the nervous desk clerk who hurried to lead them upstairs.
Their room was clean and cozy—almost too cozy, considering with whom she was sharing it. White linen sheets neatly folded down over dark comforters covered the beds, and their second-story window looked out toward the ocean. At the moment, all was cloaked in shadow, but Lily imagined it would be a nice view in the daylight.
She plopped her things down on the bed by the window, deciding to save Sebastian the trouble of coming up with a plausible excuse to claim the bed by the door. It was the more vulnerable spot and therefore the one he would insist on occupying.
“Lily, I was thinking I should have the bed by the—oh.” Sebastian entered the room, stopping mid-sentence when he saw her already bending over the far bed. She hid a smile and kept rummaging through her bag as he deposited his own things and went to inspect the bathroom. Sir Kipling trailed after him, tail upraised, the tip twitching in a lazy fashion as he surveyed his new, albeit temporary, domain.
“Where is Yuki?” she asked her cat.
“The mongrel believes himself too high and mighty to associate with the likes of us,” he sniffed, tail sinking to lash back and forth near the floor.
“Meaning…?”
“You guys talking about Yuki?” Sebastian’s voice came from the bathroom. He might not be able to understand Sir Kipling, but it was pretty hard to mistake the irritation in that meow. “He doesn’t make a habit of sleeping in the human realm. Feels safer at home. Don’t blame him. He’ll find us again in the morning.”
“High and mighty, huh?” Lily asked her cat, who pretended not to hear, instead crouching to slip under Sebastian’s bed and out of sight where he could sulk in peace.
Sebastian emerged from the bathroom, looking like he’d splashed water on his face and run wet hands through his hair to freshen up.
“Shall we go grab a bite? I heard the clerk downstairs say that the dining room will be closing soon.”
“Sure. I’m starving,” Lily said, keeping her voice level. She absolutely refused to show the tiniest hint of her traitorous emotions. Just because she’d admitted to herself that she was rather partial to Sebastian—oh, alright, very partial—didn’t mean she had any business distracting him with such information on the eve of a dangerous mission. Not that this resolution made it any easier to quash the heady thrill running through her. Nor did it provide any help in keeping her mind focused when all her brain really wanted was to daydream about a certain rakishly handsome someone. Nope, she was all on her own for that. Yippee.
Dinner was tasty and uneventful—thankfully—and afterwards all retired to their respective rooms. They had an early day tomorrow and plenty to get done. Except, when Lily got to her room she found Sebastian just leaving. He muttered something about wanting fresh air and headed for the stairs. Lily shrugged and went inside, feeling relieved to be able to get ready for bed in peace and quiet. However, by the time she’d changed, brushed her teeth, and was ready to turn out the lights, he still hadn’t returned. As she went to lock the door, she found Sir Kipling at her feet, rubbing and meowing.
“Why are you begging me to let you out?” she asked. “I thought you could open doors all by yourself?”
He twitched his tail. “I know you prefer the illusion of control. Now open the door.”
Rolling her eyes, she did so, and he disappeared down the hall in the same direction as Sebastian. Closing and locking the door—Sebastian had a key, and Sir Kipling would find his own way, whatever that was—she turned off the lights and crawled into bed. She refused to speculate about what those two were up to. Most likely nothing. Sir Kipling liked to wander, and Sebastian was a night owl. There, problem solved.
Yet, despite her logical reasoning and attempts to relax, every nerve was on hyper alert for Sebastian’s return. Not for any particular reason, but then, when did emotions need a reason? They were by their very nature unreasonable. Illogical. Decidedly traitorous. After all, she’d fallen asleep in the same room as Sebastian before—in the same bed even—when he’d helped her home after their last big showdown with John Faust. That had been no big deal. Of course, she’d been drunk with weariness and half asleep on her feet at the time, but still. No big deal. Now it was like she was sixteen again. Back then she’d had an extremely embarrassing crush on her English teacher. Her breath would quicken and her heart thump just thinking about him. She had no desire to go through that again.
But what if this wasn’t just a crush? What if it didn’t go away? And why in the world had she been desperate to throw herself on Richard, but was now fighting tooth and nail to deny her feelings for Sebastian? It didn’t make any sense! It wasn’t that she didn’t respect him. She thought very highly of her friend, and was even coming to terms with his…unconventional way of doing things. So what was the problem?
Lily turned over in the bed, hiding her head underneath her pillow and groaning. Why did feelings have to be so complicated?
Despite her tossing and turning, however, time and the demands of the body eventually took their hold and pulled her under.
She wasn’t sure what woke her, but the room was still dark and she could hear soft snoring coming from the other bed. Rolling onto her back, she extricated herself from the tangle of sheets, noticing as she did the absence of a certain warm, fluffy weight at her feet. She sat up, eyes attempting to adjust to the blackness as she peered about the room. Perhaps he was sleeping on Sebastian’s bed, the little traitor.
Unable to determine if her cat was, or was not, on the nei
ghboring bed, she was about to roll over and go back to sleep when something against the far wall caught her eye. A patch of blackness more black than the rest of the room. But it was so dark she couldn’t make out what it was. She stared at it for a while, a nameless unease growing inside her as she began to perceive an outline in the shadows. It seemed to be a human outline, but it was so still she couldn’t decide if she really saw it or if her mind was simply playing tricks on her.
Then it moved. For some reason Lily didn’t scream, simply stared in frozen fascination as a shadowy hand raised one pale finger to a set of lips hardly visible in the darkness.
“Shhhhh.”
The sound was barely audible, like the gentle whisper of wind through the leaves of a tree.
For the second time, Lily didn’t scream, though an inner voice scolded her for being so foolish. But for whatever reason, she felt no threat from the shadowy figure. It was ominous and unnerving, but not threatening.
An abrupt snort made Lily start, and she looked over at the sleeping Sebastian, oblivious to the third person in the room. Again, she wondered where Sir Kipling was. Shouldn’t he have warned her? Or was he out on a nightly prowl about the inn?
Not sure what else to do, Lily slowly, carefully scooted back so that she could lean against the headboard, where she remained, motionless and staring. It felt like she sat there for hours, growing stiff with motionlessness, though probably it was only a few minutes.
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Legends Page 18
