by TJ Green
Caspian turned to them, his shoulders bowed. “There’s no point in searching for the vampires. They could be anywhere by now. Besides, they're too strong to tackle at night—by choice, anyway. I just hope they’re not searching for us.”
“You’re closer than we are,” El pointed out.
“I’m well protected. Don’t worry about me,” he reassured them. “I’ve got tricks up my sleeve and magic traps all over the house.” He looked at Avery, his glance too intense to be comfortable. “I feel we were lucky back there. If you hadn’t managed to set the oldest one on fire, Avery, I don’t think they’d have retreated.”
Avery shuddered. “No. It was close to ripping my throat out. Just promise me that we’ll stick to hunting them in the day.”
“I’ll call Jasper tomorrow,” he answered. “Let’s hope they’ve found something out about that house.”
“Are you coming to the House of Spirits on Saturday?” El asked him.
“Yes. And we better tell Genevieve in case she wants to come.”
“I can do that,” Avery said, trying to stifle a yawn. “And now I want to go home and sleep for a week. If I ever sleep easily again.”
17
“Please tell me you’ve found some good news out about that house,” Avery said to Dylan.
It was Friday morning, and Avery had risen late, exhausted by the fight the night before, and she hadn’t long been in the shop. For the millionth time, she thanked her lucky stars that Sally and Dan were so understanding.
Dylan leaned on the counter of Happenstance Books, his expression both pleased and perplexed. “Sort of.”
“What’s sort of mean?”
“It means,” he said, his voice weary, “that weird stuff has been associated with that house for a long time, well before Madame Charron, but there’s nothing concrete—although Jasper is looking into another couple of things today.”
“Bugger,” Avery said, groaning. She sighed, stretched, and winced. “Ouch.”
Dylan frowned. “Why are you ouching?”
Avery hadn’t told him what had happened the night before. She guessed now was as good a time as any. She lowered her voice as she described the battle, and Dylan’s eyes opened wider and wider with shock.
“You set it on fire?” he hissed. “Did you kill it?”
“I doubt it. It ran off, trailing flames, smoke, and the stench of burnt skin. Although, its breath stank like death, anyway.”
Dylan looked around to make sure no one was close by, and then glared at her. “You should have called. We’d have come.”
“I know you would have, but it was too dangerous. Only our magic got us through unscathed.”
“Not completely, Ms Ouchy. You know we’ve been training?”
“Yes, Cassie told me.”
She assessed Dylan’s frame. He was tall and lean, and although he’d always had an edge that Cassie hadn’t, he held himself with more conviction now, a threat lurking behind his eyes. She wondered if they all had that, a result of knowing about the paranormal world and the threats they faced.
“And so?” Dylan looked very annoyed, and Avery knew he was desperate to do more than just monitor paranormal activity.
“Dylan! It was very dangerous. They killed four people last night! Four! Their throats were ripped out and they were left on the road like litter.” Avery started to get angry, and wind whipped up around her, making Dylan step back. She took a deep breath and calmed down. “Sorry. I don’t want my friends to die. And besides, you might not have liked what you’d have seen. Bethany was there.”
Dylan’s shoulders dropped. “She’s hunting now?”
“She is a fully fledged vamp, and needs blood to survive. When we found her, she was crouched over her victim.”
“Bethany’s a killer.” Dylan slumped against the counter, his fight gone. “This is horrific. There’s no way back for her—er, it—is there?” He looked agonised. “Is she a she or an it?”
“She’s whatever you want to call her. And no, there isn’t.”
They were suddenly interrupted by Dan, who knew Dylan from Penryn University. “What’s up, Dylan?”
“Everything,” he said, shaking Dan’s hand. “Good to see you again. You know all about what’s happening, I presume?”
Dan nodded. “Need a drink? It’s my lunch soon. We can head to the pub.”
Dylan brightened. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
Avery smiled. That was just what they both needed. Dan made light of her magic, but she knew that underneath it all he must be worried by the supernatural weirdness that was going on. He and Dylan could support each other.
“Boss?” Dan said, raising an eyebrow at Avery. “Now okay?”
“’Course it is. Take your time. And Dylan, we might be meeting tonight. I’m waiting to hear from Genevieve.”
“I’ll hang around, then, and let Cassie and Ben know.”
Avery watched them leave, wondering how she could advance their investigation and protect her friends. Her gaze drifted to the shelf under the counter where she’d stacked a few books in case she had a spare moment. She pulled out one called, Cornish Smugglers: Truth is Stranger than Fiction, and settled down to read, disturbed only by the occasional customer.
When she finally looked outside again, she was shocked to find snow was falling. No wonder it felt cold, and no wonder the shop was so quiet. Dan hurried past the window alone, and burst through the door, shivering. “God’s bollocks, it’s freezing out there.”
“No Dylan?” Avery asked.
“Nah, he’s gone to my place, actually. He’s a bit upset about Bethany.” Dan looked worried. “I’ve never seen him like this before.”
“He’s never had a mate’s cousin become a vampire before,” Avery pointed out with a sigh. She placed her book back beneath the counter, thinking she was no further forward than she’d been hours earlier. “I’m heading for lunch, and I’ll be back soon.”
***
During her break, Avery received two calls. The first one was from Briar, her voice heavy with tiredness. “You sound as shattered as I feel,” Avery said, putting the call on speaker as she pottered in her kitchen and made lunch.
“I dreamt of vampires last night,” she answered. “And every time I heard the slightest noise I woke up, convinced a vampire was at my window. I got up at five. It was pointless trying to sleep.”
“You should have stayed at Reuben’s.” Reuben had almost begged Briar to stay at his place with him and El, but she’d refused.
“I like my own bed, as lovely as Reuben’s place is. And it’s handy for work.” Briar lived within walking distance of her shop, in a lovely old cottage full of vintage charm. She hesitated for a moment. “And Newton called just after I got home.”
Avery fell silent for a moment. “Just a call?”
“He dropped by at about half past two.”
“In the morning? So it wasn’t just vampire dreams that kept you awake. How was he?”
“Shattered. Four deaths in one night. Everyone is depressed and frightened. And he’s angry. We need to stop this, Avery.”
“I know,” she said, feeling the weight of responsibility settle even more heavily on her shoulders. “Did he stay?”
“No. He was just checking that I was okay.”
Avery could hear the tightness in Briar’s voice, and was that regret she could hear? She softened her tone. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“That’s not true. He wouldn’t be around if he didn’t care about you,” Avery remonstrated.
“He’s conflicted.”
“Hunter isn’t.”
She started to protest. “Avery—”
Avery cut her off, very frustrated. She took it out on her toasted sandwich, slicing it in half with a vicious cut. “You know I’m right. You could be waiting forever, and as much as I like Newton, that’s exactly where he wants you—waiting and hoping while he works his shit out. Hunter is a t
hreat, and Newton’s trying to buy himself time. Don’t let him.” Briar was silent, so Avery continued. “You know I’m right.”
Briar groaned. “I know.”
“And as much as Hunter is a cocky Alpha, literally, he likes you—really likes you! Prepared to drive seven hours to see you-likes you. What does that say to you, Briar?”
“I know,” she repeated softly. “And I like him, too. But Newton’s stuck in my head, and I’m so annoyed with myself, because I know that what you’ve just said is right. I know it.” Her voice rose with frustration. “I’m an idiot. A hot, male shifter wants me, and what am I doing? Pining after someone who can’t move past the fact that I’m a witch. And I want what you have with Alex, and what El has with Reuben. I want someone to be there for me. To hold me when horrible things are happening, and to laugh with me when things are great.”
Avery could have whooped with joy. Finally, Briar was opening up. “Yes, girlfriend! What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Liar. What are you going to do?”
“Call Hunter?” she asked tentatively.
“With conviction, please.”
Briar’s voice got stronger. “I’m going to call Hunter and ask him if he wants to visit earlier, maybe stay over Christmas.”
“Yes!” Avery shouted, startling Circe, who was cleaning herself with great thoroughness on the floor. “He’ll be down by tomorrow.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s almost one already.”
“Next round’s on you if I’m right—which I am. You will owe me a drink.”
“He might say no.”
Avery snorted. “Bollocks he will. He’ll break land-speed records to get here.”
“He might. He does call a lot.” Avery could hear a smile creep into Briar’s voice.
“Oh, you are so going to get lucky this Christmas.”
“Avery!”
“Once we get rid of the vampires, of course.”
“You know, I didn’t actually ring to talk about this at all,” Briar said.
“You so did. But what else is on your mind?”
“Have you heard from Genevieve? I wondered if we might be meeting with the coven tonight?”
“No, not yet, but I’ll let you know. If anything it would make more sense to meet tomorrow, when we’re at the house.”
“Good point. All right, I’ll leave you to it. Speak soon.”
“And ring Hunter now!” Avery shouted quickly before Briar hung up. Then she’d gone, leaving Avery hopping with excitement about Briar’s love life.
She immediately rang Alex, and he answered quickly, the noise of the pub in the background. “Hi, gorgeous. Are you okay?”
“I just wanted to hear your voice, and tell you I love you.”
His voice was warm and velvety, even down the phone. “I love you, too. What’s brought this on?”
“I’m lucky, that’s all. I wanted you to know.”
“You are lucky, I am awesome,” he teased. “But what else?”
“Briar’s inviting Hunter down today.”
He laughed. “I knew it, you gossip. Good for Briar. Any news from Gen?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay. I better go—it’s insane here. See you tonight at yours?”
“Please.”
He rang off, and within seconds, Genevieve phoned.
“You’ve been busy,” she said brusquely. “I’ve been trying to get through for the last ten minutes.”
“Just chatting to Briar,” she explained, trying not to be annoyed. She did have a life outside of vampires.
“Jasper has some more leads to chase up, so he wants to see us tomorrow. I told him to meet us at the House of Spirits. Ten o’clock okay? Ben assures me that Rupert and Charlotte will have left by then.”
“Sure,” Avery said, pleased that her Friday night would be uninterrupted.
“Fine. Tomorrow then,” Genevieve answered, and hung up.
Before Avery did anything else, she texted Dylan in case he wanted to leave Dan’s place and go home, and told him they’d meet tomorrow instead, and then she turned the TV on, watching it absently as she finished her sandwich that was almost cold. The news was on, and it was filled with reports on the four brutal murders. Sarah Rutherford, the news reporter who had been in White Haven over Samhain, was on the broadcast, managing to look simultaneously Christmassy and grim all at the same time. She wore a bright red coat and deep red lipstick that highlighted her blonde hair and pale skin, and she stood on the main street in Harecombe, with shoppers hurrying past her. She talked with sorrow about the deaths and how the police had no leads, but she also speculated that the attacks looked as if they were caused by an animal, and said there would be a press conference later.
Avery turned the TV off. Although the news had depressed her, it also spurred her on. She had research to do.
***
By late afternoon, Avery had read everything she could about smuggling on the Cornish south coast.
She knew the names of the pubs that were known to store smuggled brandy and gin, as well as silk, muslin, china, and tea. Some of those pubs in Harecombe still existed now. The ships that anchored off the coast usually came in carrying coal, with casks of brandy and gin hidden in the hold. There was no mention of hidden passages, though. Maybe they should try to investigate some of those pubs after they’d been to the House of Spirits the next day. Or maybe try to access the sewers. The vampires could be sheltering down there. In fact, she mused, there was a strong possibility the passages and the sewers now intersected.
Avery thought back to the summer when they were still searching for their missing grimoires. Gil and Reuben had found a smugglers’ passage beneath their glasshouse and had hoped their grimoire was hidden there. The passage had led to caves and then out to Gull Island off White Haven coast; it was the cave that Gil had died in, when they were attacked by Caspian. The fight had eventually led to Faversham Central, their nickname for Sebastian’s house, where Helena had killed Sebastian and they had reclaimed Reuben’s grimoire.
After all of that, they were almost friends with Caspian now. He had saved El from Suzanna’s curse and taught Avery how to use witch flight, and offered Briar shelter at his house. She wasn’t sure if she should feel regret for all of their actions, or ashamed for making a truce, or whether it was a good thing they were now working together. And Caspian had made a pass at her, but that was something she wasn’t going to think about, at all.
The sounds of jazz lulled her thoughts, and she drifted over to the window of the shop to look at the street. It was almost dark, and the snow had stopped, leaving a light covering over the road and footpath that reflected the Christmas lights. The shop was quiet, and she’d sent Sally and Dan home for the day. She should be looking forward to Christmas, but all she could think about was vampires, necromancers, and mediums.
Avery sat behind the counter again and opened another book, wondering if it was too early to close the shop up, when the door chimes jingled. She looked up in surprise, and then felt a stone settle in her stomach. It was Rupert from the House of Spirits. He wore a short jacket over a jumper and dark jeans, and his shaved head was bare. In the light she could see faint pock marks on his skin, old acne scars.
Avery forced a smile. “Hi, Rupert. What a surprise to see you here!”
For a moment he didn’t answer, instead pausing at the entrance of the shop to glance around, his hooded eyes taking everything in. It was a cool gaze that assessed and judged, and Avery became acutely aware that they were alone.
He turned to her finally, and headed to the counter. “Avery, isn’t it? Good to see you again. Where is everyone? Your customers, I mean.”
“I think the snow has kept them home, but my shop assistant’s out back, cataloguing books,” she said, lying. “I’m surprised you’re here.” She glanced at the windows and the snow beyond.
“Oh, the main roads are not too bad,” he said, fix
ing her with an uncomfortable stare. “Besides, I really wanted to see you today. I went to see Jean, who sold us the house. She tells me she sold the books from my house to your shop. I’d like them back, please.”
Avery was completely flummoxed. She’d been meaning to ask Sally all week about the book with the witch-mark in it, and where it had come from, but with everything that had happened, she’d completely forgotten. In fact, she’d even forgotten to examine the book again.
“I’m sorry, Rupert. I have no idea which books are yours. From what I understand, you said they were sold months ago. I’d have to ask Sally, my manager. And besides, we bought them in good faith.”
“I’ll rephrase it,” he said, still pinning her under his gaze. “I’ll buy them off you.”
“But as I said, I don’t know which ones are yours. I’ll have to check with my manager, and she’s not here right now.”
“I thought you said she’s out the back?” He glanced across the room toward the door to the back room, as if he might march over and find out for himself.
“I said my assistant was in the back room, not Sally.”
“Can you call her?” He stood immobile and implacable, and it infuriated Avery.
Who the hell did he think he was?
“No, I’m afraid not. She’s finished for the day.” Avery refused to be intimidated. “And besides, we buy lots of books. She might remember the purchase, but she won’t remember the inventory. Fortunately, she keeps excellent records, and we can check them tomorrow. But of course, it’s likely we’ll have sold some.”
He narrowed his eyes, annoyed. “Do you keep records of who would have bought my books?”
“No, there’s no reason to.” And they’re not your books. In fact, for all she knew, the book with the witch-mark wasn’t from his collection.
He leaned over the counter, intruding on her personal space, and watched her silently for another moment. Avery stared right back. If he took one more step, he’d find himself the victim of a very unpleasant hex.
As if he’d sensed her annoyance, he stepped back and looked around once more. “This is an occult shop.”
“Sort of,” she admitted. “We’re a book shop that sells some occult things, but we have a wide range of all kinds of books.”
