Hidden

by Victoria DeLuis

  “Well, that’s put me right off my dinner,” I said, and debated how to proceed. I imagined a blasting orb would impact the pwca in much the same way it would custard — sending gooey globs all over the street. Nobody wanted to deal with that kind of mess. I could fire an incendiary orb at the beast, but then I was left with the possibility of incinerating him. He was an arse, but I wasn’t ready to take that step, yet.

  Too late, I realised the blob was seeping into a drain and escaping. He disappeared with a great squelch as his body squished through the grate and into the sewers below. For a second, I wondered if there was any way I could follow him, but common sense caught up with me and I cursed my stupidity. I should have thrown everything I had at the creature, instead I’d underestimated its shape-shifting ability. There was no way I’d make that mistake again.

  Chapter Seven

  “There you are.” Thomas emerged as soon as I pulled into the parking lot at the bottom of Twmbarlwm: home to the Council.

  The Iron Age fort had served as the headquarters for all things supernatural for over three thousand years. Legend tells that the body of Bran the Blessed is buried beneath the cairn, ready and waiting to rise in the defence of Wales. Maybe, one day, he will rise, but the truth is that Joe, a giant like Bran, and an ancestor of the ancient chieftain, works tirelessly to protect the land. Celtic Druids held courts of justice on the summit of the hill, and over time, as those with magic have been forced into hiding, the courts have moved inside the hill. A magical doorway leads through an intricate tunnel system and into the heart of the Council. Its entrance is protected by magical swarms of wasps and bees who attack any human digging too deeply into the ground.

  Thomas took one look at my leg and ran over to examine it. “What happened?” he asked, unable to keep the concern from his voice, even though a cursory inspection confirmed I’d used magic to heal my leg.

  “It was nothing,” I said, cursing my lack of foresight in not changing clothes and my inability to repair my jeans, or even just remove the traces of blood with magic. Thomas would fret about this for days, and although I loved him dearly, I didn’t need him looking over my shoulder and guarding my every step.

  “Was he connected to Lee Page?” he asked after I’d finished detailing my encounter with the pwca. “Or was he there specifically for you? Could it have anything to do with the curse?”

  I stopped in my tracks. I hadn’t considered the possibility that the pwca wasn’t connected to Lee Page. He’d been watching his house, or so I thought. In reality, could he have been following me?

  I shrugged. “Who knows at this point?”

  We entered the magical doorway beneath the hill. Thick wooden beams supported the sides of the tunnel and girded the roof, reminiscent of an old coal mine. Unlike in a mine, however, where wires carry electricity throughout the tunnels and the buildup of methane is a constant worry, these tunnels used magic as their power source and as a means to purify the air.

  Our steps thudded on the dirt track beneath our feet as we trudged through the winding tunnel, warm and welcoming, despite the lack of any obvious heat source and the cold air outside. We reached a slope and followed it deeper underground until we stood before a large metal door that opened as soon as it sensed our presence. Displayed beneath the hill was a vast chamber: a pristine open room with the occasional cubicle surrounded by a glass wall. Every time I entered the chamber, I was struck by its similarities to the headquarters in Men in Black. Only if Will Smith were to come here, he wouldn’t find aliens walking on the ceilings or checking through passport control; he’d find a giant overseeing a bunch of coblynau — gnome-like creatures found in mines and quarries — running the magical world. Supernaturals who wouldn’t need a neuralyzer to make him forget.

  “You’d better report the pwca’s attack to Joe,” Thomas said as we walked through the vast chamber. “If there is supernatural involvement in Lee Page’s case, maybe Joe can give us some Council support, and if there’s not, maybe he can help us find out why you were attacked.”

  “I doubt if Joe knows more than we do at this point,” I said. “Nothing in Lee Page’s case suggests supernatural involvement. Maybe you’re right, maybe it is to do with the curse. Nana’s visitation certainly suggested something’s coming.” I sighed. “But, then again, it could simply be someone we’ve annoyed in the past.”

  “True,” Thomas said. “I wouldn’t put it past Darren Platt to hire someone to come after you.”

  Too right! I remembered the goblin businessman, who I once noted looked like the sort of man who’d have your body chopped into little pieces and dumped in the river if you just looked at him funny. My assessment of his character hadn’t changed with getting to know him better. Considering Thomas and I ensured the incarceration of his murderous daughter and charged Platt our promised finder’s fee in the process — he’d hired us to find her after all, and a completed contract should be honoured — to say we weren’t exactly his favourite people in the world would be an understatement.

  “Summer,” Joe’s booming voice called through the chamber as soon as he spotted me. Now, when an eleven-foot-tall giant calls your name across a room, you pay attention, especially when there’s a note of anger in his voice.

  I lifted my hand and waved. “Trouble?” I asked Thomas.

  “He was in a great mood when I left him five minutes ago,” he answered.

  With Thomas by my side, I made my way through the underground office and towards Joe, who stood with his chest thrust out, his hands on his hips, and, I swear, his nostrils flaring. For a brief second, I felt like Theseus advancing on the Minotaur.

  “Problems?” I asked when I was close enough I wouldn’t have to shout.

  Joe turned and walked through his office door without saying a word. Thomas and I followed, while a nearby coblynau eyed me with something akin to pity through the glass wall. Joe might have been in a good mood five minutes ago, but he clearly wasn’t now.

  “What have you been playing at?” he asked as soon as he sat in his oversized stone chair.

  I blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve just had a report in from Caerphilly. Seems as though someone was throwing magic around.” Joe slapped hands the size of my forearms down on his desk and fixed me with a stern look. “I had to send someone out to do damage control. You know how I hate to meddle with humans.”

  “And instantly you pin the trouble on me,” I snapped before issuing a few more colourful words. My fists clenched in my lap and I ground my teeth together as I received a long lecture on allowing humans to gain a glimpse of the magical world.

  “If you are quite finished. I would have you know that I was very careful.” I shook my head frustrated. So much for getting help from Joe. He was more likely to turf us out and forbid us from investigating further. “Did the report also advise you why I used magic?” I asked.

  “There is no why,” Joe said. “The point is you were seen, and now I have to meddle with the memory of some poor human or make them appear crazy for having been the one that saw you.”

  “You’re being a bit harsh,” Thomas said as he held my hand a squeezed. “Summer was attacked by a pwca. You know any magic she used was retaliatory.”

  Joe narrowed his eyes at me. “You were attacked?” he asked with a faint note of concern in his voice.

  I nodded.

  “And you’re sure it was a pwca?”

  I raised my eyebrows at that and Joe held up his hands and waved away my look.

  “Silly question,” he said. “Where’s the creature now?”

  “It turned to gloop and slid down the drain into the sewer system.”

  “Lovely,” Thomas said.

  “It really wasn’t. I think I’ll be sticking to solid food for the next week or two.”

  Thomas smiled. “No ice-cream, then.”

  “No need to take it too far,” I said, smiling. “I’ll just lay off the mash potato and soup. Maybe jelly. That sort of t
hing.”

  Joe snorted, rose from his chair, and left the room for a moment. “Right,” he said as soon as he came back. “I’ve confirmed there was no word of a pwca in the report.”

  I moved to protest, but Joe raised his hand to silence me. “I’m not saying I doubt one was there, just that one definitely wasn’t reported.”

  “And?” Thomas asked.

  “And that leaves me with a number of questions,” Joe said. “Like, why you were attacked and why the report conveniently left that piece of information out? Not to mention, how it’s connected to your bloody human murder.”

  “We don’t know that it is?” I said.

  “We had wondered if Mr Platt sent someone after Summer,” Thomas added.

  Joe stared at me for a long moment before screwing up his nose and shaking his head. “It’s too soon for Platt to act. I’ve no doubt he’ll try something at some point, but he’ll wait until he thinks you’ve long forgotten he might be coming. Then strike.”

  “Cheers,” I said. “Something to look forward to, then.”

  “It’s always good to have an enemy to keep you on your toes,” Joe said with a straight face. “I think the pwca’s attack is more likely connected to your human case.”

  “But there’s nothing to suggest Lee Page’s murder is connected to the supernatural world in any way,” I told him.

  “Until now. I was about ready to forbid your involvement.” Joe blew out his breath and shook his head. “Not that it would have done any good, but I sure as hell would have made your life miserable if you’d continued with your investigation.”

  “Cheers,” I said again, much to Thomas’ amusement.

  “The only reason I can see for leaving the pwca out of the report is to land you in hot water,” Joe said.

  “Who made the report?” Thomas asked.

  “Anonymous call to the tip line.”

  “Any way to trace it?”

  Joe shook his head. “We keep these things watertight to ensure the anonymity and, of course, the cooperation of those who help us.”

  “So, anyone who knew about the tip line could have made the report,” Thomas said. “It could even have been the pwca himself.”

  “Could well have been,” Joe agreed.

  I sighed. “There is another possibility we haven’t mentioned yet.”

  “That being?” Joe asked.

  “Nana visited me while I was working a spell last night. She told me Mam would need my help soon and that curses can be broken.”

  Joe looked around his office as though avoiding my gaze.

  “What do you know about Nana’s curse,” I asked, remembering his long association with my family. “The one that killed her.”

  Joe frowned and clasped his hand over his mouth. There was no mistaking the conflicting thoughts circulating in his mind when he softly shook his head.

  “Come on, Joe,” I said by way of encouragement. “You knew Nana for a long time. She’d want you to tell me.”

  “As far as I’m aware, there was never any curse against your nan,” Joe said after a while.

  I blinked at him for a second, not sure I understood what he was saying.

  Thomas arched an eyebrow and squeezed my hand tighter. “But there was a curse,” he said, ever perceptive.

  “Aye, there was a curse.”

  I leaned forward and perched on the edge of my chair. “If it wasn’t Nana’s, then how far back did it go? How many generations of my family have had to carry the curse?” My mind reeled; this was bigger than I’d imagined. A centuries old curse could prove impossible to locate or fight.

  “I don’t know the details,” Joe added. “But you need to move forwards in time to find the origin, not backwards.”

  I paused to consider his words, but they didn’t make sense.

  “You’re talking about her mam,” Thomas said, and as he did, realisation hit me like a sledgehammer.

  “Mam was cursed,” I shouted. A million questions swam through my head. Why would Mam be cursed? How did Mam’s curse kill Nana? How could she keep all this from me? Then, I became suddenly aware of the massive burden my mother carried. She blamed herself for everything. That’s why she could never face me, why she could never share her secrets.

  Chapter Eight

  The drive from Twmbarlwm to Cardiff was made in silence. As usual, relating to the curse, I had more questions than answers. Joe had been adamant that he didn’t know the details, and although I suspected he held something back, I had to take him at his word, for now. Maybe Thomas was right, a visit to Mam was needed, but first we needed to solve Lee Page’s murder. Although, we hadn’t connected his human murder to the supernatural world as yet, Joe felt, with the attack of the pwca, it was definitely an angle we needed to explore.

  We decided to go on to The Gem Club and see what Lee’s work colleagues had to say for themselves, but when we’d arrived, it was four in the afternoon and only the cleaning staff were inside. They didn’t have any knowledge of the night staff and suggested we come back when the club opened at nine-thirty.

  As we drove through the twisting lanes back to the cottage, I soaked in the power of the trees, allowing them to clear my head and replenish my soul.

  “Smells like snow,” Thomas said as soon as he got out of the car.

  I breathed in the cold air. Dove-grey clouds hung low in the sky. The wind slapped at my face like frozen tendrils from the North; a change in direction from the easterly wind of the last few days.

  “Yep,” I agreed and thanked our foresight in trading in our reliable Ford Focus for a hybrid 4 x 4. I’m not sure how the old car would have fared in the country lanes with snow on the ground. We could have been cut off for weeks.

  Our stomachs led us to the kitchen and with the gloopy image of the pwca set firmly in my mind, I set to work making a simple bruschetta with tomatoes, garlic, and feta cheese for tea.

  “Okay, what do we know?” I asked as I sat opposite Thomas and handed him his food.

  “Not a lot,” he said between mouthfuls. “We know Lee was fighting.”

  “We also know he was hiding whatever he was doing from his mum and getting paid good money to do it,” I added before biting into my bruschetta with a satisfying crunch.

  “He has been quiet on social media for the last few months, which fits in with the timeline of his increased finances. You think there’s a connection with his job at The Gem Room?”

  “I think it’s the place to start looking. From what we know, everything changed while he was working there, so even if it’s just a case of a patron stealing him away to work somewhere else, someone at the club might know something.”

  “Well, we’ve got about three and a half hours before the club opens, so I think we need to address something at home first.”

  “The curse,” I said, nodding, even though I didn’t think I had the stomach to try and find more out today.

  “No, not the curse,” Thomas said. “The Christmas decorations.”

  I laughed. “The Christmas decorations?”

  “Yep.” Thomas stood, rinsed his empty plate in the sink and placed it in the dishwasher. “I know we have this curse hanging over our heads and a murderer to find, but we also have our own lives to live.”

  I sighed and Thomas sat beside me and held my hand. “When we lived in Cardiff, we would have had the decorations up at the beginning of December. Now, I know we’ve had workmen here and there’s been a lot on your mind, but Christmas is three days away and I can’t help but think you’re putting off decorating the cottage.” Thomas smiled at me and raised an eyebrow. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” he said.

  “It’s silly.” I shook my head.

  “Nothing is silly when it comes to your feelings.” Thomas smiled. “Confusing, muddled, unhinged, impractical... exasperating at times, but never silly.”

  I tapped him on the arm in rebuke and laughed. “Unhinged?” I queried.

  “Definitely. You’re as mad a
s a hatter ninety-eight percent of the time. It’s one of your endearing qualities. Now, tell me what’s up with the decorations.”

  I took a deep breath. “It’s just, the last time I celebrated Christmas here was when I was little. I’d just received my tattoos, something Mam had argued I was too young for, but Nan convinced her that most human girls had their ears pierced at around the age of seven, and the tattoos were a necessary part of my growing up.”

  “You were tattooed at the age of seven! You’ve never mentioned that before.”

  “Never thought much about it. They’re a part of who I am now. I guess it was never important how old I was when I got them. Nan created a blue ink from the leaves of a woad tree, then she and Mam made the designs and fused them with their magic. You can’t imagine how excited I was to get them.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve seen you excited often enough, and I know what they mean to you, so I think I can guess.”

  I laughed. “You’re probably right.”

  “How does this connect to the Christmas decorations?” Thomas asked.

  “When I think about putting a tree in the corner or hanging garlands from the ceiling, I see Mam and Nana that last Christmas. Mam got a little tipsy on port and lemonade and almost burnt dinner. Nan and I had a great laugh at her expense. It was a fabulous day. The best. It feels a little weird to be celebrating Christmas in the cottage without them, that’s all.”

  Thomas reached across and gave me a great big hug. “And as you think of your Nana and your Mam laughing and smiling, what do you think they’d say to you if you were sitting around being glum and not wanting to celebrate?”

  I smiled and pictured their stern faces in my mind. “They’d tell me to stop moping, put a smile on my face, and get my arse into gear.”