White Haven Witches Box Set

by T J Green

  “By ‘them,’ you mean…”

  “Yes. Them.”

  “Wow. So they’re really here. Should we be worried?” he asked, sitting down next to her as if for a long story.

  “I don’t know. Yes, probably? There are a lot of them.” She rubbed her face, as if hoping to rub all of her worries away.

  He exhaled forcefully. “Okay. I admit to not taking this as seriously as I should. Now, I’m a little bit freaked.”

  “I don’t wish to alarm you, but join the club. We’re a bit freaked, too.”

  He stared at her. “Not exactly reassuring. Is this in any way linked to the weird deaths in churches?”

  “No. Completely unrelated.”

  “Great. Nephilim and Mermaids, operating independently, both deadly.” He raised his eyebrow. “Anything else you want to share?”

  “Avoid The Badger’s Hat for now. Well, The Badger’s Set, to be precise.”

  “Good tip. Thanks. You didn’t mention this earlier, because?”

  “I was trying to think of a solution before I freaked you out. Too late!”

  “Ha!” he laughed dryly. “You know what? I’m going back to work now, and then I’m going to give up on socialising until all this is over. But I will update my pastry quota. Sugar always helps.”

  “Pastries on me,” Avery said, grateful for a distraction. “I’ll go now. Give me five minutes.”

  She was on her way back from the shop, laden with twice as many pastries as normal, and two mochas for that extra sugary blast, when her phone rang. It was Oswald. She juggled her bags and phone, and tried to keep her tone even as she answered. “Hi, Oswald.”

  Oswald kept it brief. “Tonight at eight, at mine.”

  “Can I bring the other witches?”

  “I suppose so. But not that Newton man.”

  And then he rang off.

  ***

  “When I grow up, I want to live in a castle,” Alex said, looking up at Crag’s End admiringly.

  “Idiot. It’s not a castle,” Avery said, looking at him with affection. He always looked so hot, and tonight was no exception. He’d dragged his hair back into a half man-bun, and all she wanted to do was nuzzle his neck.

  “It’s pretty bloody close,” he answered, unaware of her lustful thoughts.

  “It’s all right,” Reuben said, trying to look underwhelmed. “I prefer my manor house.”

  “Bragger,” El said, narrowing her eyes.

  Reuben grinned. “I know. You can stay anytime.”

  “Only if I get my own wing,” she shot back.

  “Depends how well you behave.”

  Briar laughed at all of them, and led the way to Oswald’s huge wooden front door. Newton knew about their appointment and was annoyed he couldn’t come. Avery still had no idea if Briar and Newton had any type of relationship beyond friendship, and if they had, Briar wasn’t telling.

  It was a few moments before Oswald answered the door, and when he did, he slipped outside to join them on the covered porch, as if within the house Ulysses would have heard every word. Talk about paranoid. His sharp eyes appraised them, and Avery introduced him to Alex, Briar, and El, who he hadn’t met before.

  He licked his lips nervously. “I would like to point out before I introduce you to Ulysses that he doesn’t generally like to talk about his parentage. But, he does acknowledge that many witches are aware of it. It is up to him to introduce the subject, and he often never will. You are lucky this evening. Now, follow me.”

  He turned and led the way inside, leaving the others to turn and look at each other with stunned expressions, before they hurried after Oswald.

  Oswald led the way through a maze of ground floor corridors, panelled with oak, and herringbone wood floors, before finally leading them into a room on the side of the house overlooking an abundant rose garden. It was a sitting room, with elegant, velvet-covered armchairs in rich blues and greens, and a large peacock-blue chesterfield sofa that Avery immediately coveted. The walls were covered in pale blue Chinoiserie wallpaper and decorative lamps were dotted on side tables. It was utterly charming, and very Oswald.

  Charmed as she was by the space, Avery’s attention was quickly drawn to the man standing in the window with his back to them. It was dusk out, and the room was full of shadows, so that even when he turned at their arrival, it was hard to see his features immediately. One thing was apparent—he was huge. His shoulders were broad, and his arms and thighs were powerful.

  “Ulysses,” Oswald said. “Thank you again, good friend, for coming. Here are the White Haven witches.”

  As Oswald introduced them one by one, they all met in the middle of the room, and Avery felt her hand squashed by Ulysses’s enormous one. The lamplight threw his face into relief, and she saw the most startling pair of emerald eyes, deep set into a long face, and overcast by a heavy brow and magnificently wild eyebrows. His hair was similarly wild, falling down his back in straggling waves, and his expression was fierce.

  Avery smiled nervously, her confidence faltering. By the Goddess. He looks like Aquaman, but in his fifties. And he’s terrifying.

  If Alex or the others had any such fears, they hid them well, but other than muted greetings no one said anything.

  Oswald ushered them into seats before bringing over a tray of drinks and glasses. There were cut glass decanters of sherry, whiskey, and port, and Oswald politely filled everyone a glass before pouring himself a sherry and sitting down next to Ulysses, looking like a dwarf in comparison.

  Ulysses cradled his whiskey while staring at them suspiciously. As yet, he hadn’t said a word.

  “Welcome, all,” Oswald said. “Before Ulysses tells us about himself, perhaps you could all explain a little about yourselves and your particular problem?”

  Oh my God. This is like some hellish chat show or work icebreaker.

  “I’ll start,” Avery said, seeing everyone’s slightly baffled expressions, and she told Ulysses about her shop and her family, and about the hidden grimoires, and then Alex carried on, until eventually they had all introduced themselves, downed their drinks, and were still looking at Ulysses’s sullen expression. Avery started to wonder if he was mute.

  Oswald smiled encouragingly, topped off their drinks, and then said, “Ulysses and I have known each other for many years. He is the only other witch in Mevagissey. His magic is a mix of earth and water—and by that I don’t mean the water element itself, of which you young Reuben are a novice, but the magic of the deep oceans, the underwater abyss, and Llyr himself.”

  Ulysses nodded and finally spoke, all the while looking down into his glass. “Thank you, Oswald. You are very kind, as usual.”

  Ulysses’s voice was not what Avery was expecting. She’d presumed it would be cracked and broken, a barely used rasping thing, but instead it was deep and rich, like hot chocolate, and utterly beguiling. And actually, she reflected briefly, if he were the child of a Mermaid, it would be. Their voices carried the powers of seduction.

  He looked up at them finally, and she tried not to blink and shy away from his bright green eyes. “I don’t like to talk about my past, my mother, because it’s very painful for me. Even now.” His lips cracked a thin smile. “You may feel it’s ridiculous, given my age.”

  “Not at all,” Briar said kindly. “The scars of our past can linger a long time.”

  Ulysses’s shoulders dropped a fraction and his smile softened. “What Oswald is not telling you is that he found me, as a child, on the beaches beyond Mevagissey, when he was very young himself. He knew immediately what I was, because of my eyes, and these.”

  He spread his hands wide, and whatever glamour he was using disappeared, revealing the webbed fingers of the Mermaid, and the slightly green tinge to the skin. Within seconds his glamour returned, and he looked human again.

  He continued, “A storm had raged for days, and my father had taken advantage of it. He brought me ashore, desperate that I should avoid the life that he had.” He look
ed around. “You are confused, I can tell. I still haven’t got any better at telling this story.”

  “Perhaps,” Oswald said gently, “you should start with your father.”

  Ulysses nodded. “My father was a witch, and had lived here in Mevagissey with his family, as had generations before him. This was a long time ago. Back in the 1700s. As they do, from time to time, a Mermaid came here searching for a mate, and my father went willingly. He told me he was curious, and of course, my mother was enchanting. But life was not as he expected. The Mermaids’ magic will change a man, allowing him to breathe beneath the sea. He grows webbed hands, his legs become a tail, and he develops gills. But even so, the seas are dark and cold. They had many children, and I was their youngest.” He paused a second, the memories clearly painful for him. “For some reason, my mother rejected me. I was too human. I don’t know why—” he spread his hands wide, “some quirk of genetics. My mother tolerated me for a few years, but as I grew older, I became more humanlike and she decided to kill me. My father interceded, bringing me to shore in the storm. My own natural magic allowed my body to change once I reached the shore—my tail disappeared and I could walk the land. But I was otherwise lost.”

  Oswald jumped in, continuing with his part of the tale. “The day after the storm, I was on the beach—storms always throw up the best things that are useful for magic. When I found him, he was naked, hungry, and covered in seaweed. I knew immediately what he was. There was no sign of his father or mother, and even though I waited with him all day—terrified, I may add—as you well know, Mermaids are not to be trifled with, no one appeared. In the end, I brought him here. My family has lived here for many years, and it is very private. I have essentially been his father since then.”

  “It was here that I learned to master my magic,” Ulysses explained, his expression haunted and vulnerable. “My father’s and my mother’s, and learned to live with humans. My father refused to stay, bringing me only to the shore, promising me it was for my own safety, and then he returned to the deep. He was to tell my mother I had died in the storm. As far as I know, he lives there still. Life is long in the depths. I still dream of it.”

  He fell silent, and Oswald watched him for a second. “So, as you can see, Ulysses is one of a kind. I named him after the great adventurer who battled the seas to finally return home. It seemed fitting.”

  “And you have never seen another Mermaid since?” Briar asked.

  “Never. Until I sensed them the other day in Mevagissey. I confess, I have avoided them. I would see through their magic immediately, and they through mine, even though I cloak myself well. I do not wish to invite conflict.” Ulysses’s expression was grim. “Because make no mistake, if they knew of me, they would wish me dead, and I would have to fight for my life.”

  “I have figured out a way to monitor them,” Oswald said, “but we are convinced there are only a couple here, and at the moment, they watch and wait.”

  “Unfortunately, there are far more in White Haven,” Avery said. “At least a dozen.”

  “How do you know?” Ulysses asked.

  “I found a very old spell in my grimoire. It has allowed us to unveil their glamour, and we had an encounter in a club. They know that we know they’re here, but we have no idea what to do next. And they know it.” Avery appealed to Oswald and Ulysses. “They’re strong, and we’re in trouble. It would be awesome if there’s anything you can tell us to try to fight them. Of course, we don’t expect you to get involved.”

  Alex placed his glass on the table. “I am curious as to why they want our magic if their own is so powerful. The Mermaid told Avery that all magic was desirable, but I don’t buy it.”

  Ulysses laughed, and it transformed his face. “Of course they desire our magic. Llyr is greedy, and despite his own power, he has always resented the magic of earth and his brother, Don, the Brother of Light. Llyr made his Daughters specifically so that they should need a man of earth to mate with and breed—something to perpetually taunt his brother with. So, when magic is so freely available as it is over White Haven right now—” he shrugged. “It’s like Mardi Gras.”

  El nodded. “She said magic was falling like rain, covering everything and everyone.”

  “How do we get rid of them?” Reuben asked.

  “They are born of water, so that element is like air to them. The air itself does not really trouble them too much, and fire they quench easily. But dry earth—that is a different matter. It is heavy, it suffocates, it saturates water, and could bury them. Of course, powerful blasts of energy will always be effective.”

  “Well, short of an earthquake, what are we supposed to do?” Briar asked, wide-eyed. “I can rupture the earth, but not on such a scale, and besides, it would be catastrophic for everyone around, not just the Mermaids. We can’t just wait for them to take what they want and hope they don’t come back. Five fishermen have already gone missing.”

  “And will never return,” Ulysses said seriously, his eyes filled with regret.

  “You have a mix of both magic,” Alex said. “Does that give you any special abilities?”

  Ulysses met his eyes briefly and looked away. “I can swim longer and deeper than any of you could.” He dropped his glamour again, lifted his hair, and showed them the gills on either side of his neck. “And I have power over the oceans, but not as much as they have.”

  Avery looked at the others, and their faces reflected her own disappointment and frustration. She turned back to Ulysses. “Thanks for your time, and for sharing your past. I know it wasn’t easy. Based on what we now know, we’ll just have to try and figure something out.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you wanted more. But one final thing. They have one moon cycle only to live on land, and then they must return to the sea, so they will choose their mates soon—your time is running out.”

  22

  “Genevieve,” Avery said, feeling very frustrated. “Surely there’s something the Council can do to help us? Men are at risk!”

  Genevieve’s voice rang out clear and direct over the phone, and Avery held it slightly away from her ear as she paced the room. “No, Avery. I have consulted the covens on this, and although they were happy to admit White Haven to the Council, they feel that this is your problem and that you must deal with it.”

  “Are you kidding me? Thirteen covens—the magic we could wield together would be huge. I thought that’s what witches did? Band together in times of need.”

  “While some are sympathetic to your plight, many are fearful that becoming involved would invite disaster to their own communities. It seems that only White Haven is subject to this invasion.”

  “And Mevagissey,” she injected.

  “Small only, and probably because it is so close to you. No other communities are at risk from Mermaids. And now that the threat of the Nephilim has also gone, many witches wish to keep a low profile.”

  “The Nephilim are quiet for now. It does not mean they have gone for good.”

  “May I remind you, Avery, that your magic has caused this. You caused this. You insisted on releasing the binding, and now you are paying the consequences.”

  “But we had no idea what the consequences would be!” Avery shouted. “None! And that is your fault for excluding us for so long!”

  There was a brief silence, but if Avery expected a change of heart, she was sadly mistaken, because Genevieve ploughed on, regardless. “I’m sorry, Avery, but that is our final decision. If individuals choose to assist you that is different, but there will be no official convening of the covens.”

  Avery was tempted to scream abuse down the phone, but she resisted. “In that case, we shall manage without you and I won’t bother you again.”

  “Wait,” she said, quickly. “We still wish to include you. The celebration of Lughnasadh is approaching, and we are planning to observe that together. It is something we should like you to participate in.”

  Lughnasadh was one of the big
fire festival celebrations, and fell on the first full moon closest to the first of August. It celebrated the start of the harvest, and was a time for giving thanks for plenty, and celebrating the turn of the seasons.

  I cannot believe she has the nerve to invite us to this.

  This time, Avery decided to celebrate her temper. “Genevieve, go screw yourself.” She threw the phone onto the chair in the corner and looked at Alex, who raised an expressive eyebrow.

  “Trouble?”

  They had returned from Oswald’s only an hour or so ago, and Alex was lying in her bed, his hair loose and his chest bare, reading a thriller novel. Medea had curled up on the end of the bed, and Circe was purring contentedly in the crook of Alex’s arm.

  “That bitch has refused to help us in any way.”

  “I gathered that,” he smirked. “Is this our penance?”

  “It seems so. That, that … Utter cow!” She continued to pace, desperate to blast something, anything, and when Helena manifested in the doorway, she yelled, “Not now!” and slammed the door in her face with a powerful gust of wind.

  “Come and sit down,” Alex said calmly, patting the bed beside him.

  As fantastic as he looked, the last thing Avery wanted to do was sit down. He had shaved before bed, and now had a very swashbuckling, piratical goatee that added to the wicked glint in his eye.

  “I’m too annoyed! Do you know that after refusing to help us, she had the nerve to invite us to Lughnasadh celebrations?”

  “Ah! That’s what incensed you. And fair enough, too. Clearly, we won’t be joining them?”

  She had a sudden attack of guilt. “That was terrible of me. What if the others want to go? Do you?”

  “No. I’d rather us do our own thing. And I’m sure the others would, too.”