by TJ Green
One spell made her pause, excited. A spell to bottle sunlight. That would be perfect—not only for them, but for the ghost-hunters, too. She marked the page, and started to list all those she thought would be useful.
She found another spell that detailed how to make a wooden stake. It specified the type of wood to use, suggesting that ash or hawthorn were the most effective. The stake she had from Rasmus was made of hawthorn. It sat across the table where she’d left it the night before after cleaning it and blessing it, banishing the negative energies. The newly turned vampire might not have bled, but nevertheless, the stake had been covered in gore, the point dented from where she’d driven it through the plastic tray beneath the body.
She turned back to her grimoire and found several spells that used garlic. One made a useful potion, and there were herb bundles that incorporated it and other protective plants. That was a brilliant idea. She could make Christmas wreaths for the all the doors and windows, or she could just bundle the plants together to make posies. And maybe she should see James for holy water. While she didn’t believe in the value of it, clearly a vampire did if the lore was to be trusted.
Avery had a hawthorn hedge at the rear of her garden, and plenty of holly and bay. All offered protection. She’d already brought in branches of holly to decorate the shop and her flat. If she visited Old Haven Church, she could cut some yew and oak, as well. And they’d need ash to make more stakes—the more the better. She picked up her cutting knife, grabbed some garden gloves, and headed outside.
The day was dark, the sky full of heavy grey clouds, and it was bitterly cold. Most of the garden was bare, as all of her summer flowers had died back, but the shrubs still struggled along, and there were bright berries in places. She’d only been working for an hour when she heard a shout, and looked around to see Newton marching towards her, looking furious.
Avery braced herself as she turned to face him, and dropped her cuttings of hawthorn into the wheelbarrow next to her.
He didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Are you responsible for that horror show in the Coroner’s building last night?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“You beheaded young, dead girls! Do you know what that will do to their parents?”
She squared her shoulders. “Better that than they become vampires! I presume you’ve noticed that one of the girls is missing?”
He paused. “That wasn’t you?” He looked around suspiciously, as if he would see the girl propped up in the corner somewhere.
“By the great Goddess, Newton!” Avery glared at him. “I’m not a bloody body snatcher! She turned last night and became a vampire!”
He looked apoplectic. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
Avery took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself down. Sometimes Newton was infuriating. “By the time we left the morgue—pursued by a vampire, by the way—it was very late. I presumed you wouldn’t want to be disturbed. I phoned early this morning, but it went straight to voicemail. Don’t you check your messages?”
He looked slightly chastened. “I was called into the morgue at six. I went by Briar’s house, actually, but she didn’t answer.” Interesting! Avery raised a quizzical eyebrow, but Newton rushed on. “I was worried. Is she okay?”
This should be fun. “She should be. She stayed at Caspian’s last night.”
Newton’s face darkened. “Caspian’s? Why?”
Avery explained what had happened at the morgue and on the way home. “It was probably a good idea to go with him, not only to have two of them in the car, but also to save Briar sleeping at home on her own.”
Newton nodded, and a calculating expression settled behind his eyes. “I could stay at hers for the next few days, or weeks, until this is over.”
Avery crossed her arms in front of her and glared at him. “What are you doing, Newton? Stop messing her about! You seemed to make it very clear a few months ago that whatever you two had going on was over, and now you seem to be hedging your bets! Either walk away and stay friends or actually commit to a relationship! You can’t have it both ways.”
“I am not trying to have it both ways!” he protested poorly.
“So what are you doing?”
He seemed to deflate, like a popped balloon. “She saved me, and I liked it.” His hands moved to the scar on his neck, caused by Suzanna’s blade on All Hallows’ Eve. Newton had been seconds from death, and only Briar’s magic had saved him. She hadn’t moved from his bedside for over 24 hours, and had been tending him for days afterwards, helping to reduce his scar and regain his strength. Up until then, Briar had been blisteringly impatient with him for months after the summer when he’d backed away, but now she’d calmed down, and Avery had the sense that she was waiting, again—for him.
“So do something! Ask her out, take her for dinner, or make it clear you’re just friends. Briar is hot! She doesn’t deserve to have to wait for you to make your mind up. I don’t even know why she is waiting! I bloody wouldn’t.” Avery’s exasperation came flooding out. “Hunter fancies her, and he’s still in touch! He may even be coming down over Christmas. I hope they get together.”
Newton looked like she’d slapped him. “He’s coming back?”
“He might be.”
Newton abruptly changed the subject. “Are you all meeting again for a debrief?”
“Yes, tonight, at my flat. You’re welcome to come. Just don’t be a dick.” She turned her back on him and went back to her cuttings, and she heard Newton leave. Men!
By the time she’d finished gathering wood from her garden, she was cold and hungry, and her cheeks were glowing. She staggered into the small kitchen behind the shop carrying an armful of branches, dumped them on the table, and went back for the rest.
Dan was waiting when she brought in the last load, and he handed her a cup of steaming hot chocolate. “You’ve been busy.”
“I’ll be making wreaths and posies. Lots of them. It will take me a few hours, but magic will help speed up the process. You can have a couple to put by your front and back door. By the end of the day I’ll have something basic for you to take home.”
He looked worried. “This is just a precaution. Right?”
She started sorting through her cuttings, not meeting his eyes. “Right.”
“I bet you haven’t heard the news.”
Her head shot up. “No. What’s happened?”
“A young man has been reported missing. He was last seen outside a night club in Truro, and his jacket has been found in an alleyway behind it.”
Avery closed her eyes briefly, as if she could block out the news. “Crap.”
“Didn’t Newton say anything? He was here earlier.”
She shook her head thoughtfully. “No, he didn’t, but maybe he didn’t know.” She rubbed her face, exasperated and overwhelmed by what they faced.
“This isn’t going to go away, is it?” he asked, sadly.
“No. It’s only just beginning.”
***
As soon as Avery had finished her hot chocolate, she headed to Old Haven Church.
As usual it was deserted, which gave it a haunting beauty. Frost lay thick on the ground, and clung to the branches and decaying vegetation, and as she crunched along the path to the wood behind the cemetery where they had encountered the Wild Hunt, she found her gaze drifting to the mausoleum where Gil lay. So much had changed since he died. She wasn’t sure Gil would have liked the changes at all, but he would have enjoyed being part of the coven.
She plunged under the trees and made her way to the clearing and the huge, old yew tree in the centre. There was nothing left to remind her of that terrifying Samhain. The space had been cleansed of the ritual blood magic, and once again it was a peaceful place, the silence broken only by the occasional bird song.
And there was something else. A flickering movement on the edge of her peripheral vision caused her to whirl around, hands raised, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Shadow
stepped out from behind the trees, as if out of thin air.
“Shadow! You scared the crap out of me. What are you doing here?”
Shadow gave a slow, calculating smile that chilled Avery’s blood. “I always come here, human. It’s where I arrived, and where I keep trying to return to the Summerlands.”
Avery kept her distance, taking a pace backwards, and summoning her magic. Shadow was dressed all in black: skinny jeans, black boots, and a fitted leather jacket. Where had she got them from? Not her problem. “But you can’t return, you know that. The doorway is closed.”
“Maybe I should try some blood magic.”
Was that a threat? “You’ll fail.” Shadow stepped forward again, and Avery raised her hands. “Take one more step and I’ll freeze your faery blood until you explode into shards of ice.”
Shadow gave a hollow laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Take one more step and you will.”
She held her hands up in surrender. “Sorry. It was a joke. I was wondering what you’d do if I threatened you, and now I know.”
Avery narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think you understand the word joke. Besides, you asked for our help. I won’t be much help if I’m dead.”
“True. Does that mean you’ve found something to help me?”
“Not yet. I’ve been a little side-tracked.” Understatement of the year.
“With what?”
“A small matter of the undead.”
“The undead? Spirits or night-walkers?”
“Vampires.”
“What’s that?”
“They were once human, but now suck human blood to survive. They are fast and deadly.”
Shadow walked towards Avery, her threatening posture gone. “So, what are you doing here?”
“I’m collecting supplies to make a spell,” Avery said warily, still not trusting Shadow.
“I’m no threat to you. Maybe I can help?”
“I can manage just fine on my own. I just need some branches of the yew, oak, and rowan, and then I’ll be gone.”
Shadow pulled a long, thin knife out of the scabbard on her belt. “I can help. I will feel useful.” She nodded behind her to where a couple of oak trees stood. “I’ll get some oak.” She ran over to the tree and began to climb it nimbly and effortlessly, and Avery turned to the yew.
The sooner I do this the better. She laid her hand upon the yew’s trunk and blessed it, asking to take only what she needed. She worked quickly, until she had a small pile of skinny branches covered in tiny needles at her feet, and then found the rowan tree and did the same, cutting some branches that still had a cluster of bright red berries on them.
She’d just finished when Shadow reappeared with her arms full of cuttings, and a swath of mistletoe on top. “What do you need these for?”
“Protection. All of these plants have special properties.”
Shadow shrugged. “I’m not a healer. I’m a hunter, a treasure seeker. Are you hunting this creature?”
Avery nodded, wondering where Shadow was heading. “Yes, we need to stop it as soon as we can.”
Shadow flashed a huge smile. “Good. I can help.”
12
Avery’s open-plan living area was full of people. The White Haven Coven was there, the three ghost-hunters, Newton, and Caspian had arrived last with a bottle of wine, as if attending a meeting to decide how to hunt vampires was something he often did on an evening after work. They were seated on the sofa and chairs, around the dining table, and others were standing and talking.
Avery had gone back to work for a few hours after meeting Shadow in the wood, mulling on her offer, but it was something she wanted to discuss with everyone else, and she’d told her that she would be in touch. She’d spent most of the afternoon in her attic making wreaths and posies for protection, and sent Sally and Dan home with two each, and then started to prepare food for everyone—platters of cheese, ham, fresh bread, olives, pickles, and a tray of mince pies.
By the time the other witches started to arrive she felt exhausted. Alex greeted her with a kiss. “Busy?”
“Too busy. Especially after last night. How have you been?”
He headed into the kitchen to deposit a six-pack of beer, and she followed him. “Exhausted and depressed.” He popped a cap and took a long swig of beer before he spoke. “A bloody vampire! I keep trying to tell myself I imagined last night, but then I remember how that sword felt, and well, it makes me feel sick.”
Avery tried to reassure him. “You did what you had to do. What we couldn’t.”
“But I feel like a monster.”
“You’re not the monster.”
“I know, but—” He shrugged, unusually despondent.
“You’re sleep-deprived and tired. Come and eat,” she said, leading him back to her dining room table that groaned with food. “You’ll feel better.”
The news was on the TV, and Reuben stood watching it, absently eating. “That vamp must have gone hunting as soon as you threw it off our tail, Avery.”
“You think the vampire’s behind the missing man, then?”
“In Truro? Last night? Sure. The timing’s right.”
Newton nodded. He was still in his suit, but he’d pulled his tie off and opened the top button of his shirt. “I agree. I mean, I have no proof, but you did deprive him of two victims.”
“We had to,” Avery said, feeling guilty.
“I know. It would have probably done it anyway if what your coven says is true.” He sipped his beer, half an eye on the TV. “Is he making some kind of undead army?”
“It takes more than two to make an army,” Reuben pointed out.
Newton sighed. “I think there have been more victims.”
They all looked confused, and Briar paused mid-bite to ask, “More disappearances?”
He nodded. “My colleagues have been investigating some for weeks. All adults, nothing suspicious, other than they have just gone!”
“Doesn’t that automatically raise questions?”
“People go missing all the time, for all sorts of reasons. Often they’re alive, but are hiding from domestic abuse, parental abuse, or are using drugs, or there’s trafficking at play. It’s huge. You have no idea. But these particular disappearances are clustered together,” he admitted.
Alex exchanged a worried glance with Avery and asked, “If the disappearances are linked, why would the vampire overtly kill some, while others have just disappeared?”
Newton sighed. “Maybe he’s stronger now, and wants to scare people. Vampire psychology is not my thing. Cassie? Isn’t that your area of study?”
“Not exactly,” she answered, dead-pan. “But killers thrive on power, and the more they get away with the more confident they get. I’m not sure if that’s a useful comparison, but it’s all I’ve got.” She shrugged apologetically.
“Hold on!” Ben said, holding his hand up. “Before we all start speculating, can you recap us on everything that happened last night? All we’ve been hearing are terrifying snippets. Remember, some of us weren’t there.”
“Thankfully,” Cassie added, her face grim.
Dylan agreed. “From what I’ve heard so far, I’m wondering if we should drop this job.”
Ben looked shocked. “No way! This will be the biggest thing we’ve done—for money, at least!”
“My life is worth more than money.” Dylan was annoyed, and it sounded like their conversation was the continuation of an earlier argument. “Remember, my mate’s cousin was one of those girls.”
The six witches glanced at each other, a warning in their eyes. Shit! Avery had forgotten that. They were going to have to tell him that she was the one who’d turned.
Alex sat heavily in one of the chairs next to the table. “Actually, we really need your links to this house. We think this is all connected. Everyone settle in, we have a lot to share.”
For the next fifteen minutes, Avery, Caspian, and Reuben updated them on the m
eeting with the coven, and then the other witches joined in and shared what had happened at the morgue.
Dylan looked at them all, stunned. “Are you seriously telling me that dead Bethany escaped the morgue?”
“I’m afraid so,” Briar said. She was sitting next to him on the sofa, and she squeezed his arm in sympathy.
He flinched. “Are you sure it’s her?”
“Very sure,” Alex answered. “We’d just identified which freezer she was in.”
Dylan fell against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. “This is a nightmare. Beth is a vampire.”
Ben looked sceptical. “Seriously?”
“I’ve never met one before,” Reuben answered sarcastically, “but yes, I think so. I don’t know anything else that causes people to rise from the dead.”
“It could be a zombie,” Cassie said, as if that might be better.
Reuben was emphatic. “It’s not a zombie. It had big canines, perfect for sucking your blood!”
Cassie shifted uncomfortably in her seat on the sofa, glancing at the others in a way that made Avery think they knew something they hadn’t yet shared. “And you still think it’s linked to the house we’re investigating?”
El nodded. “It seems too much of a coincidence. But maybe we’re wrong. What have you found out?” she prompted.
Dylan exhaled, opened his eyes and sat up. “Lots of weird shit. I’ll start at the beginning. The House of Spirits was built in the early nineteenth century, but was bought by Madame Charron, as she became known, in the late 1920s. Her real name was Evelyn Crookshank. Her husband had died in 1923 by suicide, after his experiences in World War One, leaving her with a daughter, Felicity. She’d have been about two at the time. Suicide was pretty common, unfortunately, for war veterans. At about the same time there was a resurgence in interest in the spirit world and mediums. There’s lots of research about it. People speculate that it stemmed from a need to contact their loved ones, and charlatans took advantage of that. It seems Evelyn became interested in spiritualism just after his death, and in a short time became a medium.”
