by Aline Riva
And his ribs still ached.
He slid down the covers and looked down at bruising that he ran a cautious hand over – that was real, it was deep and painful and he was lucky no ribs had been broken. It was on his mind again, that thought that a ghost might have done this. Then he remembered braking sharply in the road, and wondered if Sarah had been right about the seatbelt – the bruising was in the right place for it, and maybe at the time the pain wouldn't have registered because he had been in shock over what he had seen...
But that man at his beside had been too real to be dismissed as a dream. He knew it even though the possibilities that opened up were too impossible to think about. He didn't know if ghosts were real, but that man, like those others he had seen in the field, had not been of this time and place, and he had called him cunning man...
Why?
He laid on his back, took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he looked up at the ceiling and thought how safe everything seemed in daylight, and then he thought some more on why he had been addressed as cunning man.
Was the ghost of Thornton Ravencroft haunting him?
But he knew what he had seen in the field on the day it rained and the storm came and Sarah couldn't see it – he had seen himself in Edwardian clothing, battered and bleeding as he was dragged to the field behind the place where the old manor house used to stand... And Sarah had said, she had a dream that he was the cunning man, what did that mean, that he used to be Thornton? Was he supposed to start believing in reincarnation now? He wasn't even sure where he stood on the theory of ghosts...
He heard Sarah call up to him and ask if he wanted breakfast. He smiled and felt warm in his heart as he thought of her, then he called back to say he would be down soon. Then he got up and went into the bathroom and took a long, hot shower that did little to take out the pain of the bruising to his ribcage.
By the time he was dressed and making his way down the stairs, he heard a knock at the door and saw Sarah had got there first. She opened up the door and warmly greeted Kyle, who smiled to her and then looked past her as he entered the house.
“Zack!” he said, “I've got something you might be interested in,” and he waved some old paperwork in his hand, “Old tenancy agreements – for this cottage back in the days before it became freehold. You might want to take a look at this.”
“I might indeed,” Zack agreed, and then as the two men walked off together in the direction of the kitchen, Sarah smiled as she shook her head: Zack wasn't interested in a mystery? Of course he was, she had just seen that interest spark in his eyes as soon as he had seen those old documents...
Minutes later, the two men were at the kitchen table and the papers were spread out. Sarah stood over by the window and watched in amusement as the man who had said he wanted nothing to do with a mystery became intrigued by every word Kyle spoke as he related his tale:
“These are the old tenancy agreements – the one relating to Thornton's father, and the one signed by Thornton after his father's death. They are identical, check them through.”
Zack took up the paperwork and looked through it. Some of the phrasing was old, but he understood it and worked his way through old wording very well, missing nothing as he inspected the documents.
“Okay, so father and son both had identical tenancy agreements. I take it there's something else?”
“There is,” Kyle said to him, and handed him a third document.
Sarah came over to the table and pulled out a chair and sat down, watching as Zack read intently through the paperwork.
“Can it be true that you're actually getting into a mystery?” she teased.
“Possibly...” he murmured, and he frowned as he read through the paperwork a second time, then he looked up from it and his eyes reflected surprise as he looked across the table at Kyle.
“This is very suspicious.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Kyle replied.
“What's suspicious?” Sarah asked, “Come on, out with it - I'm the one who gets into the strange and unexplained, I need to hear this!”
Kyle and Zack exchanged a glance, and Zack took up the explanation:
“It's like this,” he said, glancing once more at the paperwork, ”Lord Frederick Brackenby let this cottage stand empty for one month after Thornton disappeared. Then he rents it out again, this time to a local woman, a widow with two children who runs the local sewing shop. And this time it's not a standard contract – there's a whole new set of conditions to the lease and I don't see why he would impose all these rules on a widowed seamstress who wouldn't be able to carry out alterations anyway – plus she would have needed permission from the owner and that wouldn't have been granted...I don't see why he did this unless he wanted to be absolutely certain nothing was moved.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Kyle added, “And I have my theories.”
“What are these conditions he set out?” Sarah asked.
Zack set the paperwork down on the table.
“Basically, when she moved in, she had to agree that no stone would be turned, no brick moved, no path altered, no wall taken down, not even a change of doors or windows. In other words, nothing structural at this cottage was allowed to be touched – ever.”
“And there was no mention of any of this while the cottage was in the Ravencroft family,” Kyle said.
She looked from Kyle to Zack.
“Are you suggesting he put those clauses in to hide something, like a body?”
“Maybe,” Zack replied, “There must have been a reason to keep the place as it was – and it stayed unchanged and she lived out the rest of her life here and died in 1941. By then Frederick was dead and his son put the place up for sale. That's when it left the Brackenby family but a few years later it became a listed building, so nothing was ever changed here anyway.”
Zack had fallen silent as he thought about the vision he had seen of the man who bore his face, being dragged across the field beaten and bloodied.
“Maybe he wasn't killed here,” he said, and then his side ached and he recalled the shadowy figure by his bed, and his blood ran cold as he fell silent again, knowing nothing was more solid proof of all he was afraid of and couldn't explain than the livid bruising from the blow that had almost broken his ribs.
“I'm hoping he wasn't killed at all,” Kyle added, and his eyes darkened with sorrow,”I would hate to think that my ancestor has blood on his hands, but by all accounts Frederick was a real bastard. And given the times he lived in I can't see him being anything less than filled with rage at the thought that his only daughter was courting the local weirdo. He wouldn't have respected or feared Thornton the way the locals did. And he could have easily arranged for him to disappear. If he did kill him, I don't care about protecting my family name. I think it matters more to give Thornton a decent burial, its the right thing to do.”
Suddenly, the thought of solving the mystery of the vanishing warlock wasn't such a fun idea any more. Sarah gave a shiver as she looked to Zack and then to Kyle.
“You think he was killed and the body was buried somewhere here, in the cottage or out in the garden?”
“I would prefer to think Frederick paid him to leave quietly and never return,” Kyle replied, “But knowing my family history as I do, I doubt it would have been that simple.”
“I'm going to make some tea,” Sarah said, “Who wants some?”
“Yes please,” Zack said as he picked up the paperwork and studied it again.
“Thanks, Sarah,” added Kyle, and then she left the two men to talk over their theories, put the kettle on and left it it to heat up, walking out through the open back door and standing alone on the patio, where the modern table and chairs looked out of place on the old stones that were laid in a spiralling pattern all the way up to the paved pathway that ran up the middle of the garden.
She looked up at the thatched roof, then at the old stone walls, then at the cobbled stones beneath her feet, then to the path that ran
to the back of the garden, and then she thought of every room in the cottage, every wall, every cavity in every wall, and then she thought of the floorboards, those very old boards, and wondered what could lie beneath them. Then despite the warmth of the day and the heady scent of the flowers in the garden, nothing could take the edge off the chill that ran through her blood as her mind dwelt on a single thought:
This house was old, just like the land it stood on, and nothing had been changed here for over a hundred years. That body could be hidden anywhere...
Chapter 4
Sarah struggled to shake off the chilly feeling that covered her flesh as she spent the rest of the afternoon watching Zack and Kyle bond like old buddies as they poured over the documents and discussed theories. Then Kyle had a phone call from his wife and checked his watch and told her he would be back soon. By now several hours had passed by, and while she was glad to see Zack making another friend, she couldn't forget the mystery that bound them together – a mystery she had once laughed about, that suddenly didn't seem so funny any more as she thought of old bones mouldering somewhere cold and dark.
After Kyle left, she forced a smile as she tried to brush off thoughts of hidden bones and tried to focus on the fact that Zack seemed so much happier since striking up his friendship with Kyle.
“I think the three of us do need to get together to work on solving this mystery,” Zack told her as they went out to the garden and took a seat at the patio table, and as he passed her a glass of lemonade and smiled, she smiled back at him and wished she could brush off the icy chill that lingered so heavily about her.
“Do you really think there's a body buried here?” she asked him.
He shrugged.
“I have no idea. Like Kyle said, there's a remote chance he could have paid Thornton to start a new life somewhere else. Maybe that happens to be true. I hope that's what it turns out to be. We'll get to the bottom of it.”
“Finally, I have you onboard,” she said, “And Kyle too. I think that makes us a classic gang of three investigators!”
And he raised his glass and so did she and the glasses clinked together as ice cubes rattled. She sipped from her glass and looked across the table at him, and it was then Sarah began to think about her dreams of Thornton.
“I wonder why I dreamed about Thornton being you.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe you fancy me.”
He caught the look of surprise on her face, and quickly backed down from that remark, adding, “That was a joke.”
“I had a dream I was Lillith Brackenby,” she said to him, “I was seeing through her eyes. In the dream Lillith went to visit Thornton to get a nerve tonic for her mother. I wonder if Kyle would know if Frederick's wife ever used Thornton's potions?”
He looked at her intently as he recalled his own visions – clearly, hers were a world away from his terrible nightmares...
“If she did and we can prove it, what does that suggest? That we're seeing the past? How can that happen?”
She looked down into the glass as lemonade fizzed and bubbles danced and ice cracked sharply.
“I don't know,” she said quietly, “Maybe their ghosts are still here...or maybe...I know it sounds crazy but maybe, if reincarnation exists, just maybe, you really were Thornton Ravencroft.”
“And you were Lillith Brackenby?” he said in surprise, and she met his gaze and looked away as she laughed, and now it was her turn to be the one who was blushing.
“What would be so bad about that?” she said.
“Nothing,” he replied, “But it would explain why we get on so well together.”
“You get on well with your new best mate too. The way you and Kyle just fitted together, you were like brothers.”
“Thornton didn't have a brother. Or a best friend. He was a very lonely man.”
She stared at him, and he looked back at her in surprise.
“I don't know how I knew that.”
“Same here,” she said, “I keep feeling things about him as if I knew him. And I felt the same way when I first met you – like I knew you well. And I've been right about you, too. It's like I've known you for years.”
For a moment they looked at each other and said nothing, and as he looked at her, Zack felt a tug inside his heart and he knew he had been holding back far too much. Sarah was honest, she was an open book and if he didn't tell her about all he had seen and experienced now, there would never be another time to own up to it and leave their friendship intact...
“I've...” he paused, setting his glass aside for fear of knocking it over as his hand shook slightly, “I've had things happen too,” he admitted, “Dreams, visions, I'm not sure what to call it. I didn't brake for a fox when we stopped in the road yesterday. I saw the sky cloud over black and rain was falling and there were men in the field dragging this man who looked like me, he was battered, he was in a real state. And all of those men were in Edwardian clothing. Then I stopped the car and you yelled at me and it faded away.”
That chill that had been present ever since she had thought about the buried bones was back as she shivered again despite the heat of the afternoon.
“Thank goodness for me yelling, then,” she said, “Now tell me about the bruise. Tell me how you really got it, because I'm sure if it was the seatbelt you would have been in pain at the time.”
He gave a heavy sigh.
“This is freaky, it's horrible and I don't want to scare you.”
“There could be a body buried anywhere in this cottage,” she reminded him, “It's too late not to unsettle me, Zack! Tell me what happened.”
“There was a man standing in shadow next to my bed.. He called me cunning man and said I was going to die. He reached for me and I fought back, he hit me and dragged me out of the bed – that's when you came in and the light came on and there was nothing there. Either this is supernatural or I'm losing my mind. Therefore, right now, I'd really appreciate you telling me it was a ghost.” He looked into her eyes, and she saw fear flicker in his gaze.
“Ghosts can cause physical harm,” she replied, “There's lots of documented cases of that happening. But if you were seeing the past – and it was your past – maybe you relived that moment. I don't know if the bruise happened when he hit you in the past or if it happened when you fell – but maybe if you're right about being Thornton, perhaps you coming back here somehow makes the past come back to life, just for the shortest moments. I know what I saw and felt in my dream was very real. I wouldn't try and deny that, because its the truth.”
“What did you feel?” he asked, and she sipped from the lemonade and looked down the garden, watched the butterflies flitting about the flowers in a summer dance, and didn't look back to meet his gaze as she gave her reply.
“She loved him. Lillith really loved Thornton. She used to visit him and watch him working as he made up his potions. I think he had books on magic but most of his brews were made up with alcohol. People thought they were magical and believed in his reputation. He didn't have a bad bone in his body, but there was something about him...he would have known how to harm an enemy if he had to, because he knew old and powerful secrets.”
Then she turned her head and met his gaze.
“See? I know all of this and I don't know how I know it. But when we find out more, its all going to be accurate. I know because I saw through her eyes.”
She sounded very sure of all she had said, and the more he thought about his own visions, the more convinced he felt that she was right.
“I wish my dreams...visions, whatever they are, were more like yours,” he replied, “Mine are terrifying.”
She reached across the table, and the touch of her hand felt so warm and familiar it was like her hand belonged in his.
“I'll stay with you again tonight,” she said, “Maybe if we sleep in the same room we might have more dreams – and you might get better ones.”
“You don't have to do that,” he said quickly
, but felt reluctant to pull his hand away from a grip that felt so right.
“I want to,” she replied.
He gave her hand a squeeze and nodded.
“Okay,” he said, “That might be worth trying. Let's hope we don't both end up with nightmares.”
Much later, after the heat of the day had cooled and dusk had given way to nightfall, the lamp was on next to the bed as Zack made himself comfortable and pulled up the covers and looked to Sarah, who stood there in a t shirt that reached her thighs.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
He sounded tense. She smiled.
“My worst concern is you might snore and I'll get no sleep!”
“I won't!”
She laughed softly, and then felt slightly bad for laughing when he looked so very tense.
“I'll just get into bed and you can turn out the light,” she said, and then she turned back the covers and got into bed, and he moved over slightly, then she looked at him and wanted to laugh but realised that would only make him feel worse because he really looked uneasy to see her in his bed.
“Just go to sleep,” she said.
“I don't want to turn out the light,” he admitted.
As he met her gaze, her expression softened.
“Just turn it out. I'm here, I'm next to you – and I'm not going to sleep yet, so if you start dreaming I can wake you, and I'll soon let you know if that ghost was real or not because if I can see him too, and if he's solid as life to me, I'm grabbing him and that means there was no ghost it was an intruder - and then we can forget about the reincarnation stuff.”
Her words had done little to settle his rattled nerves.
“And intruder? You think someone broke in here to frighten me?” Zack exclaimed.
