A Body Displaced (Lansin Island 2)

by Andrew Butcher

  An update on the story was released in the local paper. Some members of the band Ahedayke-Ago-Go!, which had performed at the hotel, were discovered to be in possession of illegal substances. Suspicion landed on them because witnesses reported that a band member and three other youths, between a pause in the performance, had disappeared from the hall around the time of the abduction—apparently to get high in the toilets.

  I wonder if Mr Hayworth is so proud of his son now, thought Nick, but he felt no better for it.

  Apart from that revelation, there were no other developments. A reporter came to Nick’s house one day, but unsure of how the police were handling the media, Nick refused to talk and let the pest wait until he gave up and left.

  He wanted so desperately to be proactive in finding Kerra, but struggled to think of ways to help. It was suffocating, feeling so useless. What he had managed to do was return to West Edge Country House a couple of times to check the surrounding area, trying to figure out where his girlfriend could have been taken.

  His investigations were not particularly enlightening.

  Mostly fields and old farmhouses made up the land closest to the hotel. East of it was Beade and north of it was Etherby, and also Willow. Because of nearby woodland and the picturesque views of Eradon Lake, there were holiday resorts northeast of the country house—caravan and lodge parks. The roads split off down many rural routes, and the only cameras Nick detected were in places with sudden drops in the speed limit. But these routes could easily be avoided. Whoever took Kerra could have used a vehicle to escape and then ended up anywhere on the island.

  Both times Nick had searched the area, he’d begun to worry and had left after a while. It would have done no good being reported by someone, or caught looking suspicious.

  And so he was no closer to finding Kerra.

  With Beltane approaching, he saw more and more locals dressed for the festival. Youths decorated their bodies and walked topless around town. Women braided their hair, weaving in ribbons and blossoms, and adorning themselves with flower bracelets; some got temporary tattoos of fire, flames, and Celtic symbols. Men wore antlers and garlands. Nick had even seen a group of guys painted completely green.

  Towards the end of the week, Tom told Nick he was going to visit their dad’s house and see if Tommy would be willing to talk. Then he planned on sleeping over at Michael’s because they were attending the Fire Festival on the weekend. ‘Will you be alright, Nick?’ he asked.

  ‘You don’t have to worry about me. I’m just waiting on an update from the police; I won’t do anything stupid.’ But even as he said it, Nick thought about the figure that had watched him in the snug the other night.

  ‘Okay. I’ll call you anyway and see how you’re getting on. If you find out anything more and you want to talk, then just let me know.’

  Nick smiled and let his brother get on his way.

  Since Kerra had been taken, Nick had realised just how much his friends and family cared. Fin called every day and visited as much as possible, a few old school friends had been in touch to offer support, Tom was always willing to talk and listen, and Nick’s dad had been in contact at least once a day. Back in his depression, it had been easy for him to feel lonely, but now it was obvious that he had only himself to blame: Everyone had been there for him, he had just never opened up to them.

  The only person of significance who hadn’t reached out to him since Kerra’s abduction was Tommy. Well … maybe I haven’t supported him enough either, after what he did to Aldrich.

  But Nick had tried. Both he and Tom had kept an eye on their brother at first, frequently asking how he was getting on, but Tommy had acted cooool about it, as if killing someone were no big deal. Nick thought it was because of their dad praising him for avenging their mother; maybe Tommy had latched on to that solace and didn’t want to let it go. After Christmas, though, when Tom announced his sexuality … he changed.

  Because of full-time work and Tommy’s attitude towards Tom, Nick naturally saw him less and less. On top of that, allowing Tom to move in made it seem as if Nick had chosen sides.

  Soon he would have to confront Tommy.

  At work on Friday, Mora took her lunch break at the same time as Nick, as she often did, and they went to Deirdre’s together. The café had gotten into the Beltane spirit: bright flowers abounded, branches entwined up the walls, and a large plaque of the Green Man hung by the window behind Mora.

  Mora was plainly soaking up the ambience. ‘This is my favourite time of year.’ She sighed happily. ‘I’ve been going for walks around Wood Park early every morning.’

  Nick usually enjoyed this season too. ‘It’s nice.’

  Across the table, Mora reached out her hand and put it on top of his. ‘I don’t know if I could hold it together the way you’re managing to.’ She squinted, creasing her skin. ‘You’ve been through a lot, and you don’t deserve what’s happened to you.’ She always knew the words to make him emotional, but he controlled himself, avoiding a reply and giving a slow shrug.

  He believed Mora could hold it together if it were her, because she’d apparently had a difficult life herself. What she’d endured, Nick didn’t know, because his manager was reticent about personal matters, but Janet had hinted before that Mora’s extended family were handed more than their share of bad luck. Also, Mora had once had a long-term partner who was no longer around.

  ‘I have an idea, Nicolas.’ Mora’s face brightened. ‘You should come to our maypole dance at Wood Park. My coven are participating, and our Ritual Leader is going to be the May Queen.’

  He’d met the Ritual Leader of Mora’s coven before; she was an … interesting woman. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

  ‘Oh, come on, I think you’ll enjoy yourself. And I’d love to have the company.’

  With a short laugh, he said, ‘Your entire coven will be there, including Janet.’

  Mora guffawed in her unashamed way. Everyone in the café turned to look at her, except one man with black hair, who was sitting alone. ‘Yeah, that’s true. But I would still love to have you there. The other coven members … they’re more excitable about these celebrations than I am. It would be nice to have someone less’—she paused to find the right word—‘attached there … like you.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll come along.’ He shrugged. He normally attended the Fire Festival every year, but it felt wrong this time around. It was a massive event, similar to the Edinburgh Beltane Fire Festival, and thousands of people attended, whether local or visiting the island. Being influenced by Celtic, Irish, and ancient Gaelic traditions, it didn’t appeal to all Pagans, but it did charm the general public with its modern elements and array of entertainment: acrobatics, dance, fire manipulation, theatre, art film, and music.

  There was also a lot of nudity.

  Many smaller celebrations took place across Lansin Island as well, some more Wiccan-based, and others Neopagan and varying greatly, reflecting the diversity of traditions held across Neopaganism.

  ‘Excellent.’ Mora grinned. ‘If you want to come early and help us set up, then would you be able to give me a lift?’ she asked sweetly.

  ‘Oh, I see why you invited me …’ Nick pulled a suspicious face.

  ‘Nicolas. You know that’s not the reason.’ Mora’s expression was serious. ‘But it would be a great help. I have loads of items I need to take with me, and Janet’s already promised to drive other members of our coven, so there’s no room for me.’

  ‘Just threaten to sack her if she doesn’t take you.’

  Mora choked on her tea in amusement, then laughed loud and infectiously. The stares from other patrons made Nick momentarily uncomfortable, although everybody who looked seemed amused too. When Mora calmed down, she shook her head, smiling. ‘Nicolas! You are terrible.’

  ‘I was only joking. Of course I’ll give you a lift, and I might as well help set up.’

  ‘I know you were joking …’ Mora sighed, then gave her eyes to Nick. ‘You know Ja
net is really distraught that she can’t talk to you.’

  Nick compressed his lips.

  ‘She’s always been fond of you, Nicolas, but she and’—Mora paused and seemed reluctant to continue—‘Kerra’s parents have been friends a long time. David has been extremely unfair, putting her in a hard place.’

  ‘I don’t blame her at all, Mora,’ he said honestly. ‘I’m not even that angry at Kerra’s dad. When Mum went missing, I wanted to blame someone ... anyone. Everybody I saw I suspected of being guilty somehow. And all that suspicion was also on me and my family. A lot of things were said and done that I’m sure everyone regrets.’

  Mora appeared thoughtful.

  A man stood up to leave Deirdre’s, and on his way he accidentally bumped into Mora’s shoulder. ‘Ah, sorry.’ He laughed both apologetically and energetically.

  ‘Ooooh … ’ Mora struggled to balance the cup of tea in her hand, its contents tilting back and forth. ‘No harm done,’ she replied, laughing more boisterously than he did. She looked up at the man with dark hair and smiled. Then her expression turned quizzical.

  The guy nodded pleasantly before leaving.

  ‘I recognise that man from somewhere.’

  Nick raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh?’ He twisted, but was too late to catch sight of him.

  ‘Ah!’ she chirped, ‘I know. He came into the store a few weeks ago, I believe. He spoke with Michael.’

  That’s it! … The important thing someone had said recently. Michael had told him a man came into Creaky Crystals asking for him. After being given Nick’s name, the man said he’d find Nick on ‘Facebook or something.’ But nobody fitting the man’s description had been in contact since then. Black hair, pale skin …

  Something else stood out to him now: This conversation with Michael had taken place just before the planned weekend away with Kerra.

  Was it him? Nick had started to believe the curly-haired guy must have taken his girlfriend, and that something supernatural was involved … but who was this man with black hair? Why did he ask after Nick but then not contact him directly? And why was he here in the café today?

  It would have been too suspicious to pursue the man now, and Nick didn’t want to worry Mora.

  They discussed plans for May 1st until their lunch breaks were over.

  Back at work, the incident at the café played in his mind. He tried to recall the face of the man who’d bumped into Mora, but he hadn’t gotten a good look. He would probably recognise the guy if he saw him again, but there was no way he could describe him now.

  As work dragged on, Lucy approached him. ‘Oi, Mister Blister.’

  ‘Is that me?’

  ‘Well, I’m not talking to the dragon statue behind you, am I?’

  Nick turned and gave a sympathetic look to the figurine for sale. Lucy giggled.

  ‘Okay …’ said Nick, ‘but why Mister Blister?’

  ‘Blister rhymes with mister. Obviously.’ She frowned at him as if he were slow to understand. ‘And I wanted to call you Mister.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘Precisely!’ She nodded. ‘Anyway, how are you getting on?’

  Nick knew what she was really asking, and it was nice to have someone speak so casually about Kerra’s disappearance. Most people pussyfooted around the subject, and that annoyed him. Lucy had been awkward when she first found out, on the day David Evans accosted him; but, after a long and candid talk, she seemed to develop the attitude of ‘Shit happens, but let’s deal with it.’

  ‘There’s been no word from the police,’ said Nick. ‘But I’m hopeful.’

  ‘Yeah. You keep that hope. Something will show up soon. It has to.’

  He smiled at her. ‘How’s your writing coming along?’ She’d explained to him before that she was an aspiring author, which was why she worked part time. Nick was kind of jealous that she was younger than him and already knew her aspirations in life.

  ‘Yeah … I’m deffo getting there, and as long as my parents let me bum off them for as long as possible, then I’ll keep at it.’

  ‘Cool. I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘So many ideas come to me, though, and I’m like, Boom! That’s a bestseller! but I’m so wrapped up in the fantasy epic I’m writing, I can’t set aside the effort my other ideas deserve.’ She blended a huff and shrill squeal. Over the top. ‘I wish there were twenty of me; I would rock the literary world.’

  ‘Well, you’ve certainly got confidence.’ He laughed sheepishly. ‘Twenty Kooky Lucys … that would certainly be interesting.’

  ‘Why, thank you, young man.’ She bowed, displaying the brown roots in her bleach-blonde hair. ‘Anyway, what is it you want to do with your life? Career-wise.’

  Nick delivered a miserable conversation killer. ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Oh.’ She stared through her black-rimmed glasses, her posture uncomfortable to look at. ‘Well, you’re an exciting individual, aren’t you? Don’t go changing the world any time soon!’ She moved away quickly as if his apathy were contagious.

  For the remainder of the shift, Nick mulled over his troubles, trying to find links between himself, the curly-haired man, the guy with black hair, and Kerra. All it resulted in was a splitting headache.

  There was a moment when Janet asked him to serve a customer he hadn’t realised was waiting, and she spoke to him in her usual friendly way, as if there was no divide … but then Nick saw something click in her mind. After that, she treated him like a stranger again.

  I hope things go back to normal when I find Kerra, he thought, and got on with the day.

  That evening, he invited Fin over. On each recent visit, his best friend had encouraged him to bring on more visions.

  Unfortunately, Nick had had zero success so far; he had not attained a single glimpse of the future since the one of Kerra limping towards him with arms outstretched. It was frustrating. When he had proved his ability to Fin, he’d managed to foresee multiple things without much effort. Now he reckoned the pressure was getting to him.

  He missed his girlfriend so much that he didn’t want to think about her. Maybe that’s what’s stopping it from working. How can I expect to see results when I’m directing a vision at something I’m blocking out?

  ‘You can do this, buddy!’ Fin urged him on, and pumped a fist in the air like a hooligan.

  ‘Not when you’re distracting me like that, I can’t.’

  Fin laughed. ‘Sorry, man. Thought I’d try a different approach.’

  ‘Thanks, but I’m trying a different approach anyway. I just need to focus.’

  They were in the snug again, and Fin casually ate a cold slice of pizza from a delivery he’d ordered in earlier.

  Eyes closed, Nick did his thing. Imagining the tree, the roots, the entwining … but this time he added emotion. He let his heart sadden in thought of Kerra, and then let his ability dive into that pain and use it for divination purposes. The vision took him.

  His body felt young and small. He had no control, only watching through eyes. Where am I? The view turned. He saw little beds—not ones he’d ever owned, but the plain sort found in a hotel or apartment. Thin sheets.

  High-pitched bickering came from the right. His eyes turned, and there he found Tom and Tommy, only boys, both wearing Manchester United football shirts.

  Tommy’s arms were wrapped around a football. ‘You’re being the goalie!’ he shouted at Tom.

  ‘I was goalie last time,’ Tom protested.

  ‘You were rubbish, so you’ve got to be goalie again.’

  Tom crossed his arms, sulking, and then turned to the eyes Nick was looking out of. ‘Nick … I was goalie last time, weren’t I? It’s his turn, isn’t it?’ The twins had shorts and trainers on below their football shirts, ready to go outside and play.

  Go outside where? thought Nick’s adult awareness. Where am I?

  ‘I don’t care,’ Nick heard his own boyish voice. It hadn’t broken. ‘I’m playing a game.’ Looking down and awa
y from the twins, he saw a Nintendo Game Boy Color in his hands, Pokémon Gold playing on its screen.

  ‘Ha-ha! You’re goalie!’ he heard Tommy yell, then saw both brothers scurry past and out of the room.

  The memorable music of the Pokémon game played away while Nick watched his own little thumbs press the buttons. The character walked vertically, horizontally, vertically, through patches of virtual grass until there was a change in music, then flashing and swirling and a battle. Adult Nick was aware of his younger self’s immersion in the game.

  But then footsteps entered the room. ‘Nicolas?’

  He peered up from the screen. Mum? thought Adult Nick. ‘Mum?’ said Boy Nick.

  Her hair was long and chocolaty, a bit poofy, and rested on her shoulders. The style was outdated, like her clothes; she wore light wash jeans, pulled up high, into which she’d tucked a baggy white blouse. Her brown eyes gazed at Nick. ‘Why don’t you play football with your brothers?’ Sadness welled in Nick’s older awareness at hearing her voice again.

  ‘I’m playing a game,’ he said petulantly. ‘I’m in a battle now.’

  ‘Can you save it?’

  ‘No, Mum. You don’t know anything. You can’t save in a fight.’

  ‘Okay. Well, how about after the fight? Save it, and then come outside and play.’

  ‘Why? I don’t even like football …’ Jesus, I was a brat, thought Adult Nick.

  ‘I’ve convinced your dad to play. We’ll put him in goal, and I might even have a go!’

  The thought of that amused Boy Nick. ‘Maybe after this fight then ...’

  His mum ruffled his hair. ‘We’ll see who can score the most goals, hey?’ She grinned before walking off.

  When he looked back down, the battery ran out on the handheld game console … and Adult Nick’s vision ran out too.