White Haven Witches Box Set

by T J Green

  “Bloody Hell, Ave, what have we got ourselves into?” Alex looked like an excited kid who’d just learned he was going to Hogwarts.

  “Why are we even laughing? I mean, it’s not funny,” Avery said, still laughing. “Sebastian’s a psychopath, and he conjures dragons. Out of a bloody phone!”

  “That was priceless. The look on his face!”

  “I think I’m hysterical. This is not a normal reaction to being attacked by a dragon and jumping out of a fifth floor window. Oh, and nearly being crushed by a Darth Vader move.”

  “Yeah, it was a bit Vader-y.” Alex sipped his pint, having finally stopped laughing. “So what’s he hiding?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think he gives a crap about Octavia’s trapped soul. We’re missing something. Something big. Something that I think will benefit us, and he’s terrified of us getting—and it’s not just the grimoires.”

  Alex fell silent, thinking. “Your grimoire contains the first spell. It must tell us more about what it really does. We have to find it.” He downed his pint. “Come on, let’s go back to yours and get searching.”

  ***

  When they arrived back at Happenstance Books, they entered through the main shop and found Sally stocking shelves, while Dan served an old couple struggling beneath a pile of books.

  Sally looked across at them and smirked. “You two look like you’ve been up to no good. You haven’t been to Harecombe, have you?”

  “Why?” Avery asked nervously.

  Alex headed to the rear door and said, “I’ll head up and put the kettle on.”

  “No, no, no,” Sally said. “Not until you’ve seen this.”

  She nodded to Dan and headed to the back room where she pulled her phone out of her pocket. “It’s all over social media and the news. Some guy filmed this.” She showed them a short clip of the corner of the harbour in Harecombe where Kernow Shipping stood. The filming was jerky, but they saw cars screeching to a halt, horns blaring, glass on the pavement and road, and people staring and pointing. When the camera swung upwards, you could see a shattered window and a flash of something dark, but nothing else.

  Avery glanced at Alex, relieved. No dragon. How would the Favershams have explained that? How did they get rid of it? Sebastian must have acted quickly to get it under control.

  “There were reports of a strange creature crashing out of the window, but all the company said was that a display from a local carnival had broken a window.”

  “Well, there you go. What’s that got to do with us?” Avery said, wide-eyed.

  Sally looked between the two of them, clearly not believing any of it. “So, I suppose you won’t be helping in the shop this afternoon?” she asked Avery.

  “Not for a couple of hours, but I can relieve you for lunch,” she said, checking her watch and finding it was already after one in the afternoon. No wonder her stomach was rumbling. “Sorry, it is lunch.”

  Sally waved her off, “No, we’re fine, carry on. I’ll shout if I need you, though.”

  “Cheers, Sally,” Avery said, giving her a hug before following Alex upstairs.

  “Bloody hell, I’m starving!” Alex declared, weaving through Avery’s messy flat to the kitchen. He looked around, bemused, as he stepped over books and magazines, and paused to fuss over the cats as they wound around his ankles, almost tripping him up. “Have you got any food in the fridge?”

  “Of course! It’s just cleaning I’m not very good at,” she said sheepishly. She switched on the TV and found the local lunchtime news. While Alex foraged through the fridge, she started to tidy, keeping an eye on the newscast. The headline item was the shattered glass window at Harecombe, but other than the short video, all it suggested was that the window had been accidentally broken, and no one was hurt. A representative from the business, who Avery didn’t recognise, reassured the news team that it was purely accidental. Avery snorted. Their actions would have only increased tensions between them, but at least they had tried.

  Just as the news item finished, her phone rang, and she looked at the caller and groaned. “Hi Newton,” she said with a raised voice, attracting Alex’s attention. He looked around and mouthed, Oops.

  “What the bloody hell have you been doing?” Newton raged from the phone.

  “Whatever do you mean?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

  “You know exactly what I bloody mean. Briar eventually told me your plans, and we’ve just watched the news. What the hell have you done?”

  “You’re still at Briar’s?” she asked, avoiding his question.

  “Yes I bloody am, covered in demon burns. What have you done?”

  She winced. “We went to discuss terms.”

  “Terms of bloody what?”

  “Newton. Please stop swearing,” she said, knowing it would infuriate him further. “We went to discuss the grimoire, let him know about Alicia, and then he set a dragon on us.”

  “A bloody what?”

  “A dragon. A small one, the size of a bird of prey—which is actually quite large, as birds go. But not dragons. I believe they are normally bigger.”

  “Is this a joke?” he shouted.

  “Unfortunately not. Sebastian Faversham is a mean bastard with a lot of power, and didn’t like being told Alicia was dead. He made a dragon out of a phone. It was very impressive, if unexpected,” she said, pacing across the room with nervous energy. “Alex fended it off and broke the window.”

  “You could have been bloody killed! Why didn’t you ask me to come?”

  “Unofficial witch business, you know that. You can’t risk being involved, Newton.”

  He fell silent for a second. “You still should have told me.”

  “No, better you didn’t know at all. Are you feeling okay this morning?”

  He grunted. “A bit better. Briar knows her stuff.”

  “Yes, she does. Are you off sick?”

  “Yes, I have no choice.”

  “Good. Stay there. Hopefully there’ll be no repercussions. We kept your name out of things, but keep your head down for a few days. How’s Briar?”

  “She’s fine. Hang on, she wants a word.”

  Avery heard shuffling as the phone was handed over, and then she heard Briar. “Avery, this is getting worse. Can’t we stop this thing with the Favershams?”

  “We tried, Briar, he didn’t want to listen. There’s more going on than we realise.”

  “Were you and Alex hurt?” she asked, sounding worried.

  “No. Please don’t worry, just keep investigating your grimoire, and protect yourself. Keep Newton there for now, too.”

  As she hung up, she wondered how El and Reuben were, and while Alex was busy in the kitchen, Avery rang El. She answered quickly. “Hi, Avery.”

  “Hey, El. How are you two?”

  “We’re okay, just working through some stuff.” She lowered her voice. “Reuben’s really down. I’ve never seen him like this. I can’t leave him.”

  “Have you managed to sort your shop out?”

  “Yeah, Zoe’s got it covered.” Avery presumed Zoe was the immaculate guardian of the shop.

  “Well, I’ve got news for you.” She filled El in on their encounter and passed on the same advice she’d given to Briar; keep quiet for a few days and gather strength.

  Avery didn’t actually say what she really felt, which was that they’d entered a new stage of war with the Favershams. Although she and Alex had laughed about it at the pub, she had a feeling things were about to get a lot worse.

  By the time she’d finished on the phone, Alex had finished cooking, and he brought in two plates, each loaded with a thick bacon and egg sandwich on crusty bread, and they headed upstairs to the attic room.

  Avery had a large bite and sighed with pleasure. As she chewed, she rearranged some of the research on the wooden table, while Alex stood in front of the map, also chewing and thinking.

  He pointed at the map. “What are the pins for?”

  “I’v
e marked the original houses of our families at the time of the hanging, but of course there’s only Gil’s and El’s so far.” She knew she should say ‘Reuben’s’ now, but still couldn’t get out of the habit.

  “Now that we have the old records, the other addresses will be in there, won’t they?” He turned to the table and rummaged through the trial transcripts.

  Avery walked over to the map. “I have an address for Helena, but I think it was her mother’s house that she lived in when she was young. She lived in a different one once she was married.” She picked up a pin and marked the tiny cottage she had visited the other day.

  Alex flicked through the book they had stolen from the Courtney Library. “The Ashworths, Briar’s family, are listed as having lived on South Street. I wonder if that still exists?”

  “It sounds familiar.” Avery said, trying to find it on the map, before pulling her phone out of her pocket to Google it. As soon as the image popped up, she remembered it. “Yeah, it’s at the top of the town, heading onto the moors. It’s steep, if I remember correctly, and old, so it must be the same one.”

  “I wonder if the numbers are the same?” Alex mused. “It says number 51.”

  Avery punched the number in and watched the street view materialise. “Well, it’s certainly 16th century. Decent size, too.”

  “Which is what you’d expect for a merchant.” Alex marked it on the map with a red pin. “It’s almost directly above El’s Hawk House along the coast, and it’s opposite to Helena’s mother’s.”

  “And diagonally opposite Gil’s,” Avery noticed.

  Alex looked at her, puzzled. “Strangely symmetrical, don’t you think?”

  “Yes actually, but it must be a coincidence.”

  “Okay, I’m going to check my family’s.”

  Alex turned his attention back to the book as Avery continued to study the map. She took another bite of her sandwich and then grunted as she remembered something else in Anne’s papers. She rummaged through the pile on the table and pulled out an old map of White Haven. She pinned that up and noted the differences between the new and the old. The main shape of the town was the same, and the centre of the town was virtually unchanged, its tight network of streets straggling down to the harbour and along the beach, and inland up into the small valley which narrowed as it followed the curve of the hills down to the coast. The edges of the town were populated with new buildings, houses built in the 19th century.

  Avery then picked up Samuel’s book and flicked through it, finding a rough map of the town in the 16th century. It was far smaller, but the centre of the town still had the same shape. Layers on layers of history, Avery mused, and its secrets were lost in the foundations and the tide of humanity that had been born, lived, and died here. Until now.

  Alex’s exclamation disturbed her reverie. “Found it. Parsonage Road. Does that still exist?”

  She Googled it quickly, and found it up higher in the centre of the town, close to the Parish Church of St Peters. “Of course, the old church at the top of the town,” she said, pointing out the road on the map.

  “It’s almost dead centre between the Ashworth’s place and Helena’s,” Alex said, marking it with another pin. He grabbed a pencil and drew a faint line between the four on the outside, and then stopped, puzzled. “No, that’s not right—what would Parsonage Road link with?”

  A thought struck Avery and she groaned, incredulous. “It couldn’t be, could it?”

  “What?” Alex asked, frowning at her.

  She took the pencil from him, and drew a pentacle, linking all five buildings together. “What do you think?”

  “Bloody hell. That works. And it aligns to the elements on the compass—each family’s strength, each house marking the points. What’s in the centre?” he asked, scrutinising the map.

  Avery put her head next to his as they scanned the map. “The Church of All Souls. It’s been there for centuries.”

  “The heart of the town, if not the true centre,” Alex noted. It was too high to be the exact centre of town.

  They both looked at each other, stunned. Avery elaborated. “The spirit of the town, locked within the centre of the pentacle. A place of power. Briar’s spell—the grounding.”

  “A place where you would lock a spirit and a demon?”

  “It has to be!” Avery exclaimed. “And where something else may be locked, too.”

  16

  Alex paced the room while Avery again examined the map that appeared on the book they’d stolen from the Witch Museum. She lit a witch light, closed the blinds to block out the sunshine from the bright afternoon, and stared at the fine white markings that must be tantalisingly close.

  “Come on, Alex, we need to be logical about possible hiding places for Helena’s grimoire. We need an old building, something that’s likely to have passages underneath, someplace accessible to her.”

  “Churches. There are four in White Haven. Old Haven Church where the Jackson’s mausoleum is. And where there’ll be a crypt. Then there’s the Parish Church of St Peter’s…”

  “And the Church of All Souls in the centre of the pentagram,” Avery said, finishing his sentence. “All will have crypts, all are old. The fourth is that Methodist church, but that’s far too new.”

  “True. Then there are a lot of old, 16th century houses, but how likely are they to have tunnels beneath them?’

  “And to have been accessible?” Avery added.

  Alex continued to list buildings. “The old pubs along the harbour front and the centre of town. They have a big smuggling history, lots of tunnels there, probably.”

  “What if it’s under Helena’s family house, the point of Air on the pentagram?”

  Alex rolled his eyes as the suggestions grew. “Where’s the house she shared with her husband? It might be under there. In fact, the map may not be showing passages at all. It could even be a floor plan of a house, with the grimoire hidden in the walls.”

  “Or an attic.”

  “Elspeth’s was hidden in the grounds of her house, Reuben’s in the mausoleum—again, their property.”

  “But what about yours and Briar’s? Who knows where they were originally hidden.”

  “There’s the aquarium, that’s an old building, recently converted, right by the sea wall.”

  “Or, of course, the Witch Museum.”

  “Or White Haven Museum?”

  “I didn’t even think of that.” Avery said, annoyed with herself. It was another stone-built house that was on a street sitting along the harbour, with a commanding view over the sea. It had been gifted to the town by the family who owned it, and was now owned by the National Trust.

  “But, what link would Helena have to it?” Alex pointed out.

  “Excellent, very logical. Let’s rule that out.”

  Alex was already looking for Helena’s second address. “Penny Lane, that was Helena’s house with her husband,” he said, looking up. “That must be the one leading off the high street.”

  “It is. It’s a lovely old street actually,” Avery said, remembering its mellow stone and half-timbered buildings.

  “Let’s try to imagine Helena’s thoughts. The five witches—or witch families—have just performed a big spell, one that mustn’t be undone, the Witchfinder’s coming, and you need to hide your book. Where would you go?”

  “I would avoid my house, it would feel too obvious. I’d also probably avoid my mother’s house, too,” she said, thinking of the tiny cottage she’d stopped in front of the other day. She searched through the papers on the table and consulted her family tree to check dates. “Helena’s mother had already died by then anyway, that’s why I didn’t see her name in the trials—at least she was spared that horror.”

  Alex frowned. “We’re missing something.”

  Avery smacked her head with her palm. “We’re forgetting the Newtons! Is it worth finding where he lived?”

  Alex shrugged, “We can, but why would she hide it with the Ju
stice of the Peace?”

  “I would have thought it’s the perfect place to hide it. Who would think to look there?”

  “Fair enough, that does have a certain logic.” He consulted the letters that had been sent to Newton by Thaddeus Faversham, scanning them quickly. “Also Penny Lane! Next door to Helena’s!” He looked up at her, his pupils large in the muted light. “They were neighbours—he’d have known her well.”

  “No wonder he felt so annoyed when he couldn’t save her. Do you think he knew she really was a witch? But knew she was trustworthy, too?”

  “Maybe,” he shrugged, unconvinced. “They may have had cellars that could be linked. He would never have known what she had concealed. It’s worth checking. Those buildings are shops now, right?”

  Avery consulted Google Maps again and then laughed. “Of course they are! I’m so stupid.”

  “What?”

  “Both Helena’s house and Newton’s are now one building.” She looked at him expectantly, as if he should know.

  “So? What building? A big shop?”

  “It’s a restaurant, quite a flash one—Penny Lane Bistro.”

  Alex grinned. “Public access! Great! What you up to this evening?”

  “What I’m up to every evening—looking for this bloody grimoire.”

  “May I take you out for dinner?”

  Avery laughed. “Really? You don’t want to sneak in after they’re closed?”

  “Of course I want to sneak in after they’re closed, but we can check it out officially first.”

  “It’s expensive!”

  “So?” He frowned, crossed his arms, and leaned back against the table. “You don’t want to be seen in public with me?”

  Avery huffed at Alex’s annoyed expression. Was he serious? “I’m seen with you all the time! Are you crazy?”

  “As friends. This is a date.”

  “A date—like a proper, wine-and-dine date?”

  “So you’ll sleep with me, but not go out to dinner with me?”

  Now she knew he had to be winding her up. “I had a pint with you today! Besides, I wasn’t sure how serious the whole sleeping together thing was.”