Denial

by R. M. Walker

  “Where are you going?” Nate demanded.

  “To see the other cave. Aren’t you coming?” Drew asked with surprise and carried on walking, his hand still on Lily’s elbow. “Where was I? Oh, yes, this man burst into the church, out of breath and excited to announce that a ship had gone down on the reefs. Of course, everyone immediately rose, eager to get down there. The poor vicar clamoured for their attention, finally managing to get them to settle down and listen.”

  “I suppose being a vicar, he was against it,” Lily said. She picked her way over the sand and dislodged his hold on her deliberately to put a distance between them. Matt stepped into the gap that Lily had created and gripped her hand. She tightened her hold on him, glad that he’d done it and that Nate wasn’t causing a scene.

  “Well, you would think that, wouldn’t you?” Drew said with a laugh. “But when he’d got their attention, he begged them to wait long enough for him to take off his cassock. Then they would all have a fair start.”

  “Did they?” Lily laughed, imagining the scene easily in her head.

  “Yes, I was told they did, as he was a respected vicar. His sermon, apparently, had been on avarice as well. A case of do as I say, not as I do, I dare say.”

  She laughed. Matt’s eyebrows were drawn into a deep frown as he looked ahead of him.

  “There was another time—not here, but further up the coast—when the excisemen raided the village, and the local reverend was found to have four casks of brandy in his possession,” Drew carried on happily.

  “What happened to him?” she asked as they came to the entrance of the larger cave.

  “He spent a couple of hours in jail and was then released due to his status and apparent repentance. He was moved along a parish, and to all intents and purposes, carried on with his extracurricular activities. Of course, before industrialisation, smuggling was the only option for the incredibly poor people of these shores.”

  “Lily tells us you’re researching for a book.” Nate came to stand in front of him, his hands in his pockets, seemingly relaxed and curious. But Lily was beginning to read them well and saw the hard edge to his eyes.

  “Yes, I’ll get what I can done now, but it’s on hold a bit until Mr Peters is better able to return to teaching,” Drew said and walked around him to enter the cave. “I suppose all these caves are nothing new to you, having grown up here. But to us, it’s all new and exciting, isn’t it, Lily?”

  “Yes, it is.” She had to admit that, and he was fascinating to listen to.

  “Not being offensive,” Jake said. “But surely everything that can be written has been written. What do you hope to achieve that hasn’t been done already?”

  Drew remained quiet for a few seconds as he fumbled for his torch again. He switched it on and looked back at Lily, a bright smile on his face.

  “There can never be enough books on a subject,” he said and indicated the back of the cave with his hand. “Come see the shelves, Lily. Imagine them filled with brandy casks, tobacco, and silks in waterproof barrels packed in with straw. Men, women, and children so desperately poor that they would be willing to risk life and limb to smuggle inland. If they were caught, they would end up on the gallows or possibly deported to Australia. They were never burnt, though,” he said, picking his way over the pebble-strewn sand. “If convicted of heresy, high treason, petty treason, or coining, then men were hanged, drawn, and quartered. But because that involved nudity that would offend the crowd, they burnt them instead. Right up till the Treason Act of 1790.”

  “Burnt them?” Lily moved closer to Matt. A funny feeling itched at the base of her neck.

  “Yes. Of course, in Scotland they burnt witches at the stake,” he called back over his shoulder. “But in England, only a few were burnt for witchcraft; the rest were hanged. Usually before they burnt them, they would strangle the women. But there are documented cases where some women were burnt alive. They’d stand them in tar barrels then place faggots around them. They were either chained or shackled to a stake, and then the faggots were set fire to. Horrible way to go if you haven’t been strangled first. The flames and smoke would take quite a while to reach the head, so it would have been a terribly painful way to die. However, the strangulation wasn’t human decency; it was because the screams of the poor women were too loud for some of the folk to put up with.”

  His words drilled into her head, conjuring up images of being tied to a stake. But they weren’t images; they were memories. She could feel the agony of blistering skin creeping up her legs slowly. The awful smell of her own burning flesh filled her nose. Rain pounded on her skin, and then there was nothing but merciful blackness.

  ~*~*~*~

  She went down before any of them realised what was happening. Matt dropped beside her. Nate and the twins came up quickly, but Drew got to her before them. He went to his knees on her other side, pushing the rocks away from her head.

  “Check there are no rocks she can hurt herself on,” he ordered, his eyes on where Lily was jerking. She abruptly went still and seemed to melt into the sand.

  “Give her room,” Drew snapped as the twins and Nate tried to get closer to her. “She’s going to come around in a moment, but you have to give her room.” He dragged his jacket off and carefully lifted her head and placed it underneath.

  “We’ve got this!” Nate told him. “We’ve dealt with this before.”

  “Wonderful, then you know to give her room. Let her come around at her own time, and try not to turn this into a pissing contest,” he said dryly, not moving from beside her.

  “Seriously, we’ve got this,” Nate said. “It would be best if you go now.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Drew snapped at him angrily. “I don’t know what your problem with me is, but I can tell you now, get over it! Your friend has suffered a tonic-clonic epileptic fit, and you’re worried about... Actually, what is your problem with me? You’re insolent around me every time I see you.”

  “You hit on her, and she’s half your age!” Nate spat, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

  “I...” Confusion showed on Drew’s face. “I haven’t hit on her. When have I hit on her? What on earth are you on about?”

  “In the opticians!” Nate snapped, pushing his glasses up. Josh put a hand on his shoulder that Drew didn’t miss.

  “I didn’t...”

  “You offered to take her for coffee,” Nate reminded him, and the confusion melted into disbelief then humour.

  “Idiots, I knew who she was. I knew she was my neighbour. I wasn’t hitting on her!” Drew shook his head and knelt back onto his feet, his hands on his knees.

  “You called her beautiful,” Jake pointed out, staying close to Nate and Josh, but he kept his eyes on Lily.

  “Don’t you think she is?” he asked. “I’m a history professor, not dead. Although most of my students might not agree with the dead part.”

  “You can’t go around calling college girls beautiful and asking them for coffee, man. It’s not appropriate,” Josh said.

  Drew held up his hands briefly in a sign of surrender before placing them back on his knees. “Okay, I see your point. You don’t know me from Adam, and it might have come across badly. It wasn’t my intention to worry you. And I did worry you, didn’t I?” He looked directly at Nate then at Matt. “Did I make Lily uncomfortable too?”

  “No, you didn’t.” A croak was their answer, and they all looked down at where Lily was white as a sheet, awake again. She struggled to get to her feet, and Matt jumped up and helped her up.

  “I think I’m gonna be sick.” She twisted from his hold and lurched towards the shoreline, bending at the waist and bringing up everything she’d eaten. Matt swore and went after her quickly.

  “He cares for her a lot,” Drew said, and got to his feet in one movement. “And so do all of you. That much is clear. None of you have anything to worry about from me.” He bent down to pick up his things
. “But he might have something to worry about with you three.”

  He turned and walked away to the rocks that led back to Porthaven. “Make sure she gets some water to rehydrate,” he called over his shoulder and climbed up, not looking back again.

  “Fucking bastard!” Nate grunted, kicking at the sand. “And just what the hell was that?” He turned to throw his hand out towards Lily.

  “Don’t take it out on her! She can’t help it,” Josh snapped.

  “I’m not taking it out on her!” he snapped back, thrusting a hand through his hair. “But that’s twice in less than twenty-four hours. I’m not walking on eggshells with her anymore. We get her back to Matt’s, let her change, and then we are taking her to Jonas.”

  “Agreed, but you need to calm the fuck down,” Jake said, seeing Matt leading Lily back to them. “If she sees you like this, she’s going to think you’re angry with her.”

  “Maybe I am,” Nate said then huffed his breath out, pushing both hands into his hair. “No, no, I’m not angry with her. I just wish she was easier.”

  “She’d have to be a boy to be easier to deal with,” Jake pointed out. “She’s a girl. They’re weird like that. We just have to go with the flow.”

  “Tell me about it.” Nate snorted, shaking his head.

  Lily came to a stop beside them. Her face was white and her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Nate stepped forwards and drew her into a hug. She latched onto him, and the tears flowed. The others gathered around her, touching her. Nothing was said. They just held her.

  ~*~*~*~

  Drew watched as they crowded around her, stroking and comforting her. He’d seen her go straight into Nate’s arms, and it’d made fury lash through him that he’d had to stamp on firmly before he did something he would regret.

  He saw the lay of the land now, and it didn’t please him. Nate was the leader, an upstart that would need taking down a peg or two, but it was the relationship that worried him. He’d assumed Matt was the boyfriend, but it just went to show how little good assuming did. They were all head over heels for her, and he was beginning to think it went the other way as well.

  He knew she was staying with them at the manor because Lynda had gone to London. He didn’t like her being there with them at all, so he’d done something about it. Or at least he’d tried. The first night he’d got into her room, he’d hoped to scare her enough to send her back home and away from them. But she’d stuck it out and had even gone into their room for the rest of the night. He’d let his anger get to him, and he’d destroyed the room in a fit of fury. He’d tried again last night; he’d set himself up in his living room again. He’d drawn out his sigils in chalk on the wooden floorboards under the rug.

  Sitting in a perfect circle of symbols, he’d been able to project a part of his psyche—his shadow-self—through the night and into her room, even being able to convince her that it was one of the boys with her. Until she turned around and found no one there. He hadn’t banked on how strong her resistance to him was, but it pleased him greatly. She’d managed to fight his hold on her, and he’d had to dig deep to stay there long enough to get her back onto the bed. But performing the spell two nights in a row had sapped his energy so much that when he’d tried to leave, he’d been unable to avoid the electricity in the new alarm system.

  When he finally came around back in his cottage, he’d been covered in blood. It had run from his eyes, nose, and ears. And his plan hadn’t even worked. He’d tried hard to convince her they couldn’t be trusted, yet here she was, still running around with them. It made him spitting mad, but there was no way he was going to lose her now. Especially not to a group of hormonal, grunting teenage boys.

  He snarled as he saw them rocking her now, soothing her, telling her all sorts of nonsense. Probably telling her not to worry about her fits, that they would be there for her, keep her safe. It should be him down there, getting her to tell him everything she’d seen, everything she’d experienced. It should be him to offer her comfort and refuge, not them!

  He’d been doubtful of them at first. He’d even considered that they were magical in some way, but he was inclined to think her questions in the car had been academic. Something to take her mind off her argument. When he’d got into the manor the first time, he’d looked around before going into Lily. There was nothing in the manor to indicate magic: no iron anywhere, no charms, no mandrake, nothing. There were no protection spells or wards to keep harm out. He’d been certain they were harmless; or as harmless as lust-riddled idiots could be.

  He hadn’t expected her to fit like that in front of him. He’d managed to get into her head long enough to see a little bit of what she was experiencing. She must have started reading some of the books he’d given her to have those kinds of images in her head. But it didn’t matter, it’d made it easier for him to see how her magic was presenting now she was nearly eighteen. There was no difference, they still appeared as they always had, as seizures to the outside world. It was fortunate though; he didn’t want those morons thinking there was something different about her.

  He watched them move apart from her, their hands still touching her as she was handed a cloth to wipe her face. He backed off before they saw him watching.

  He’d known there was animosity there, but he hadn’t known why. When they’d told him, he’d been surprised at the laughable idea. But Lily had clearly said that he hadn’t made her uncomfortable and that was all he needed. If he was careful, he might even be able to use it as a wedge between them. Creep them out when she wasn’t aware, play the trusted professor teacher to her, while making them doubt his motives. If she didn’t see his play and they did, they’d push her about it, and it might set off alarm bells that they were too overprotective of her. However, on the other hand, it could go horribly wrong and push her away from him even more.

  He jumped back down onto the sands of Porthaven and headed towards the harbour. He debated waiting for them, following them to see where they’d go. But he was in a foul mood now, and the Blue Pig was calling to him. He headed over, avoiding the rows of people soaking up the last of the summer sun. Children were making far too much noise as they played in the surf. He hated it down here; hated the constant noise of the sea, hated the complete absence of magical energy. He wanted to take Lily and go home. And that was exactly what he would do. No one—not Lynda, Nate, Matt, nor those stupid twins—would stop him.

  Part Two

  Scared

  She sat on the edge of the sofa with her legs crossed at the knee. Her foot swung back and forth nervously. She was glad that they hadn’t demanded on the beach to know what had happened, because she would have told them. It’d frightened and confused her enough to tell them and damn the consequences. But bringing her home had given her enough time to realise that if she’d been frightened then, telling them now would be ten times worse. So, she’d spent the last five minutes trying to convince them that she didn’t remember what happened. She was lying to them and that made her feel guilty, but self-preservation was stronger than guilt.

  Nate wasn’t backing down though, and Lily was getting desperate. She wanted to forget it ever happened and move on but that wasn’t happening. She tried to convince herself she was just a highly imaginative person. It was so close to the nightmare she’d had after finding out what they were. But it hadn’t been a dream this time. It had been... What? Another hallucination? She’d felt the agony. Smelt the smoke. Seizures didn’t do that, and neither did hallucinations. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face the alternative, though.

  Surely it was ridiculous. If she was honest, the idea of fairies should be ridiculous, but where was she now? In a relationship with four fairies. She couldn’t help the snort that left her nose. If Nate could hear her calling him a fairy, he’d be so annoyed. And he was already working up to a level of annoyance that she’d yet to witness from him.

  “You can’t remember? Or you won’t remember?” Nate demanded, catchi
ng her attention again as he paced. The twins were sitting on the table, the sides of their thumbs in their mouths as they looked between her and Nate, concern clear in their body language. Matt was sitting on the bottom step of the spiral staircase, tracking Nate’s progress back and forth across the small room.

  “I probably overreacted to all that gory talk,” she mumbled, unable to look at him or any of them.

  “If I live to be a hundred, I will never understand your level of denial!” He thrust a hand into his hair, sending it all over the place. “This is twice in less than twenty-four hours.”

  “Well, there has been a lot going on,” she said, and it sounded pathetic even to her.

  “Lily!” He threw his hands in the air. “You had a fit in college when Matt touched you, you fitted when you saw the waterwheel at the mill, you made flowers grow from nothing, you hugged a tree, and then you fitted when my mother touched you, and again when Drew started to go on about burning witches at the stake. When are you going to—”

  “It wasn’t Matt that made me fit. I was stressed from moving! And I probably overheard someone saying about the kids at the mill and it got mixed up in my head,” she cut him off. “I didn’t make the flowers grow, they did.” She pointed at the twins, who didn’t even blink. “I have never hugged a tree in my life. Too much sun and a vivid imagination probably made me faint today!”

  “Un-fucking-believable!” Nate stopped in front of her, putting his hands on his hips. “You, Lilith, are unbelievable. Who the fuck are you trying to lie to more, us or yourself?”