by T J Green
Briar shook her head, a sad smile on her face. “No, I don’t think so, Avery. That’s a different ‘I’ll call you.’ He said it with meaning.”
“Oh, yeah. There was definitely meaning there,” El agreed, smirking.
Avery gave her a hard stare and then looked at Briar. “Er, Briar, you can tell me to butt out, but do you like Alex, or something like that?” Wow. How sad was that? She sounded like a schoolgirl.
“Something like that,” Briar admitted, still picking at her now very cold toast. “But it’s not going to happen. I think he’s way more interested in you.” She shrugged. “Win some, lose some.”
Now Avery felt like crap. She didn’t know Briar very well, and hadn’t spent much time with her until this week, but she liked her, and for some inexplicable reason now felt really guilty. “Well, nothing has really happened. He’s just a flirt, and he likes to keep his options open.”
El shook her head. “I disagree. He acts the flirt, but I don’t think he is, not really.”
Avery grunted and decided it was time to change the subject. “Whatever. What do you think of Newton?”
“He looks good in his suit,” El said, grinning.
“But he smokes!” Briar grimaced into her toast.
“No, he’s smoking!” El countered. “Anyway. I also need to go. Avery, you need to come up with a better protection spell. I hear you’re good at that sort of thing. What about you, Briar?”
“I need to prepare some stock for the shop, and then more research.” She looked back at Avery. “If you can, get that spell prepared for tonight—we need to secure that doorway.”
“You mean, break in to the museum?” Avery asked, shocked.
“Or, we could call DI Newton,” Briar said, grinning. “He wants to help.”
***
Avery opened the door of her flat and took a deep breath of relief at being home. She was lucky she had Sally as her manager and Dan to help out, or she wouldn’t have as much freedom to pursue hunts for hidden grimoires. The last few days had been a whirlwind of action, revelation and danger. She did, however, need time on her own, and on Sundays the bookshop remained closed.
In one week her entire life seemed to have changed. While she had always enjoyed her magical skills, her magic was always benign. This was how it should be. She tended her garden, harvested ingredients, read books on the subject, and tested her abilities. She had hundreds of dried herbs prepared, access to fresh ones, and she liked to try new spells. She didn’t know how Alex had known, but he was right. She got that from her grandmother. And yes, there was Alex. The other night their kiss had been unexpected, but not unwelcome. If she was honest, she really wasn’t sure what she thought about it. And she had no idea what he thought; he hadn’t said anything, other than the enigmatic—I’ll call you.
She decided that before she did anything else, she would clean the flat. The mundane occupation would help her process things. For the next hour, she vacuumed, tidied, and polished. The cats either scooted out of her way or watched inquisitively.
When she’d finished, she headed through the gate and into her garden. The energies of the previous night had settled, but she still sensed the disturbance that the demons had brought. She followed the winding gravel paths until she reached the grassed area at the centre. Briar had done well. The grass was back in place and as smooth as a bowling green. In fact, it looked better than it had before. The plants from the surrounding beds were tucked back into the soil, and apart from a few damaged stems, looked none the worse for their ordeal. It was hard to recall the horror of the previous night, standing here in the bright warm sunshine. She suddenly recalled Briar’s advice about water, so she pulled the hose from the shed and then turned it on the borders.
The events of last night were so confusing; she couldn’t say where the demons had come from. It seemed that they had arrived as soon as she had opened the door of their protective circle and the ravens had flown free. Ravens. That was an interesting bird to have manifested from the box. They were bringers of news, dark omens, and wisdom. What a mix.
She could only presume that the demons had been waiting somewhere in another dimension for a manifestation, or some sign of magical activity, and had attacked as soon as the birds were released. It would have taken a huge amount of power to control them.
Avery finished watering the plants, turned off the hose, and then lay on the grass and closed her eyes, thinking again of last night. Could anything else have been there? She couldn’t sense anything at the time. Maybe the witch who was hunting them had been above them, spirit walking. Or had at least had been above the town, waiting and watching for a magical disturbance. Alex hadn’t been sure what had attacked them before, but maybe the witch controlled demons both in the spirit dimension and the material. Whoever they were was one step ahead of them. She laughed to herself. No, they were several steps ahead. They needed to do a lot of catching up.
The doorway to the other dimension in the museum was an unexpected development. She wondered if this was an easier way to control the demons. Manifesting out of the air must take a lot of control. Creating a doorway would require less energy. Well, once the initial sacrifice had been made. Two people were dead. Two too many. The sunlight played across her face, and it was tempting to sleep, but there was too much to do. She opened her eyes, gazing at the sky above. It was a deep, endless blue, with just a few clouds scudding by. Someone, somewhere would be mourning a loved one.
They had to seal that doorway. Did their adversary presume they were so weak that they couldn’t defend the town? That they didn’t care? She was determined to prove them wrong. She leapt to her feet, her energy renewed. It was time to prepare.
Avery sat at her worktable in the attic and pulled out several old books she had on necromancy, spreading them in front of her. They were filled with diagrams of circles of protection, summonings, invocations, and lists of the type of demons that could be summoned and what they could be used for. The diagrams were complex and she felt her heart growing heavy at the mere thought of doing them. She saw an image that looked familiar and reached for her own spell book.
Her grimoire was filled with spells, all written by different hands through the years. The first spells were written in ink, and there were blots and splashes in places, while others had been written meticulously. Some spells were illustrated, with pictures of herbs, roots, and images of the moon. There were spells she knew by heart because she used them regularly, but there were others that she hardly used or ever looked at. The more modern spells were written in ballpoint pen, and she had annotated several spells that she had tested and found needed improving. These she had rewritten, and there were many pages filled with her own handwriting of reworked spells and new ones.
But there were spells at the back that she hardly ever looked at. These spells came with a warning. Magic should never be used to harm, but many of the spells in the back of the grimoire were for exactly that purpose. There were warped love spells, spells to bind, to silence, to dull the wits, to confuse, to bring bad fortune, to cause infertility, and many others. And there were spells to control and summon spirits. While this didn't really include demons, she assumed the principles would be the same.
Avery turned the pages slowly, making notes, and ran through several scenarios in her head, testing out protection spells until she had something she thought would work. She grabbed her cutting knife and headed to her borders. She needed roots and fresh leaves—catnip, peppermint, chamomile, geranium, Solomon’s seal, garlic. And she needed fresh seaweed; she would have to go to the beach. Some plants would need harvesting at dusk, but she could begin some preparations now. Of her dried plants, she would need mandrake, foxglove, and rose hips. She needed to make two potions.
While she worked, she wondered if it would be worth phoning her grandmother. She was in a home now, her mind a shadow of its former self. But of all her family members still living, she had the best knowledge of witchcraft. Her mother had
walked away from it and White Haven, and her sister had quickly followed, leaving her alone. Her father had long gone, unnerved by the family legacy. But Avery couldn’t deny her blood and had remained, working her magic alone. She shook her head. No, she couldn’t disturb her grandmother. She had to do this on her own, but maybe, after tonight, she would visit her, and ask her what she remembered about the Jacksons.
Once she had what she needed, she headed back to her workroom and started to prepare her ingredients. She lost herself in the work as she meticulously chopped and ground the herbs, saying the necessary words. Circe and Medea watched her all afternoon until she had finished. Avery petted them and then headed down to the kitchen to feed them. She heard the thundering of their paws as they jumped off the table and followed her to the kitchen.
Once she’d fed them she grabbed an oilskin bag and headed to the beach. It was time to get the seaweed and make the potion.
***
Avery eased her van to a stop on the car park overlooking the deserted beach. The cove was virtually empty, as she’d expected. It was about fifteen minutes outside White Haven, and access to the cove was down a long, winding path from the cliff top.
She had chosen to come here because there wouldn’t be too many people to see her small rituals as she picked up seaweed. As much as she loved White Haven, on a bright day like this, the harbour and surrounding beaches would be full of families and children.
A cool wind blew in from the sea, and she wrapped her cardigan around her as her long skirt buffeted around her ankles. When she arrived on the beach, she kicked off her flip-flops and put them in her bag, feeling the damp sand underfoot as she made her way to the shore. In the far distance she could see a man walking his dog, but otherwise the beach was deserted.
Avery headed to the rock pools, looking for seaweed still attached to the rocks. She trod carefully, and finding what she needed, brought her cutting knife out, its silver blade flashing in the light, and whispered the necessary invocation as she cut the seaweed free and put it in her bag. She wandered to the far edge of the beach where the cliff stretched into the sea, enjoying the silence, and watched the man head up the rickety wooden steps, the dog prancing around his ankles, and then he was gone and she was alone.
In a sheltered spot, out of the breeze, Avery piled up some driftwood and uttered a simple spell to create fire. She brought out her small, blackened cauldron and placed it among the flames, adding saltwater and chopping the seaweed into it. For a few minutes she watched, and when it was time, she added some of the other herbs she had brought with her. Passing her hands over the mixture she said the spell that would bind them together.
There. It was done. Wrapping a cloth around her hands, she took the small bowl out of the flames and put it on the sand to cool, and then stopped for moment. She had heard a noise. A soft sound, like a call on the breeze.
Avery stood and looked across the beach and up at the cliffs, but no one was in sight. And then she heard her name floating on the wind. She jumped, and a shiver passed through her. Who was that?
The voice grew louder and stronger, like a seagull crying on the wind. It came closer and closer, but there was still no one in sight. She grounded herself, preparing for whatever may come next.
Without warning, a man appeared on the sand a short distance away. He was tall and dressed in black, his dark hair short, and he strode quickly towards her. Her heart started thudding and she raised her hands. If demons appeared now, she was toast. She looked around, but there was nowhere to run. The crags of the coast were at her back, and rock pools lay between her and the sea.
She turned back to him, keeping her energy raised and ready to strike.
He stopped when he was a few feet away, allowing her to see his features clearly. He was older than her. Early forties, maybe. His dark hair was streaked with grey, and his pale blue eyes fixed on her intensely as he took in her every detail.
She found her voice. “Who are you?”
He laughed. “I’m one of you, Avery.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, already annoyed.
“From one of the old families.”
“Well, most people I know don’t manifest out of thin air, so that doesn’t surprise me. But which family?”
He laughed, showing even white teeth against his tanned skin. “I like your spirit, Avery, but then again all of the women in your family have a certain boldness.”
She glared at him, not liking to be on the back foot. He was an arrogant prick on a monumental scale. “Excellent, so glad I meet your approval. I presume all of the men in your family have a similar streak of dickishness.” She was being deliberately prevocational in order to wipe the arrogant smile off his face. It didn’t work.
“My, my. How polite you are.”
“Oh, cut the crap. I presume you’re the one responsible for the demons?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe. I’m here to offer you a warning, before anyone gets hurt.”
“Too late. Two people are already dead.”
He shrugged. “Not our people.”
“They were still people!” She was incensed and wanted nothing better than to strike him, but she knew that would be pointless. She had no idea how he’d appeared out of thin air, which meant he was clearly more powerful than her.
“Forget them, Avery. You need to think about you, Alex, Briar, Gil, Elspeth, and Reuben. You are in possession of things we need. We don’t want to hurt you to get them, but we will, if we have to.”
Her blood ran cold. He knew them all. “Can we skip the cryptic messages? What do you want?”
“The grimoires, of course.”
“But they’re not yours. They belong to us.”
“To be blunt, you don’t deserve them. You’ve let your powers grow weak.” He looked at her in disappointment.
“Well, maybe now we have a chance to grow stronger again.” She was making empty threats and he knew it, but she wasn’t going to be walked over. And the more she stood there, the more she knew she wanted her grimoire. Now that she knew they existed, it had tripped a desire that she couldn’t switch off.
“And maybe we have a chance to grow stronger.” He tipped his head to the side, watching her reaction.
“No. Absolutely not. They’re ours.”
He sighed. “I’m not sure you should answer on behalf of everyone else. Ask them. They may disagree. I can take possession of Elspeth’s and Alex’s as soon as they are ready.”
She thought for a moment. She was pretty sure Alex and El would tell him to get lost, but Gil or Briar? And then another thought struck her. If he was more powerful than them, why couldn’t he just take them? Breaching their protection spells could be easy for him. Maybe there was a reason he couldn’t?
“I’ll ask them. But don’t get excited. May I tell them who called today?” she asked with an exaggerated politeness through gritted teeth.
“Caspian Faversham. I’m not sure Anne will have heard of me,” he said with a smirk.
And then he disappeared in a swirl of air and sea spray, and Avery was left alone on the beach.
17
As soon as Avery was back in White Haven, her mobile phone rang. It was Briar, and she sounded excited.
“Avery, I got hold of Newton, and he agreed.”
“Agreed to what?” she asked, trying to pull into the side of the road while she spoke. She still felt flustered by her encounter on the beach.
“To let us into the museum.”
Avery was silent for a moment, dumbfounded. She hadn’t really thought Briar would call him, and she certainly didn’t expect him to agree. “Are you kidding? I mean, you actually asked him?”
“I said I would. I told him we would try to close the doorway, and he agreed.”
“Wow. I did not expect that.” She gazed out of her window at the traffic which snaked its way through the narrow streets in the centre of the town. Sundays did not make the place any less busy. “Wha
t time?”
“Late. After midnight. But can we do it?” Briar sounded worried. “I mean, have you got a spell ready?”
“I have something that may work, but I’d like to see if El or Alex have had any luck.”
“Alex is working, remember?”
Avery exhaled slowly. “I forgot. Look, Briar, I met someone on the beach, and he threatened us.”
“Are you all right? What happened? Who was it?” she asked in a breathless race.
“I’m fine. He materialised out of thin air, and he’s called Caspian Faversham. It’s a stupid name.” She snorted, glad she could ridicule him in some way.
“Who the hell is that?”
“I have no idea. Look, I can’t talk now, I’m parked precariously. Come around to mine later, and I’ll explain everything. And we can talk through the spell I’ve tweaked.”
Briar was silent for a moment. “I’m not sure I can cope with demons again.”
“I’m not sure I can either, so we better seal that doorway.”
***
Avery returned to her worktable in the attic, and this time spread Anne’s research around her. The need to find her own old grimoire was now more urgent than ever. There was no way that she would let Faversham get it.
Anne had been rigorous in her documentation. Her family tree was exhaustive and fascinating. It was strange to see her family line travelling back so many generations. Her finger ran across the paper as she focussed on old names, all of them unfamiliar except for the most recent and Helena; her name was a beacon for all the wrong reasons. She could kick herself for not going to the museum sooner.
And what if Briar was right? What if Newton was from another old family who had abandoned their witchcraft and their place in the town history? What did this mean about the DI? It seemed he knew more than he wanted to say. Any normal person would have scoffed at supposed doorways to another dimension, but he didn’t blink. And moreover, who was Caspian Faversham? And were there others they had no idea about? What did these old grimoires really hide? She sighed. So many questions. Avery thought she knew the history of White Haven, and her place in it, but now she sensed there was a lot that had been hidden.
