by Amy Casey
“Welcome home,” I muttered to myself.
It was time to get to work.
Chapter 10
I expected to feel somewhat familiar upon returning to Nightthistle. After all, I’d been here before. I’d spent a week here just a couple of months back, in the midst of the Andy Carter case. And I’d liked it. I’d found myself, dare I say it, settled.
The only problem was, now I was back, Nightthistle felt very different.
The sky was thick with grey clouds. It was raining. And the rain wasn’t just falling lightly, either. It was pelting down hard and cold drops that actually stung to the skin.
I looked down at the town centre as I stood there at the spot I’d teleported inside Nightthistle, just like last time, and I wondered whether perhaps I’d got the wrong place. Whether it was possible this was some kind of alternate reality. Because it had to be, didn’t it? That was surely the only explanation for why it wasn’t all bright and day-glo anymore, instead of all dark and dreary.
But the longer I stood there, the more I began to realise that I hadn’t made a mistake at all. This was Nightthistle. It was different.
But the difference was all for one reason. And deep down, I knew exactly what that reason was.
My cousin’s murder.
I swallowed a lump in my throat as I looked across the town as it rested ahead of me. I saw the market stalls, where I’d seen the most magical contraptions. I saw the food stands, where I’d smelled spices and tasted foods unlike anything else I’d ever experienced. I saw the narrow alleyways that had been so bustling with life—coexisting with different species, all just getting along.
I saw it now and it was silent.
Empty.
It felt like the town of Nightthistle was dead.
I looked further into the distance and I saw the greyest cloud of all. It rested over my family home. I cleared my throat as I thought about the pain that must be going on in there right now. I’d always done a good job of distancing myself from the emotional trauma of the sleuthing I’d done. I’d focused more on the clue-hunting, the mystery solving.
But, whether I liked it or not, I knew there was no getting away from the reality of this situation. I was a part of this family, after all. Aunt Hilda. Thomas. Tara. Becky. They were going to be feeling the pain of Curtis’ death.
I was just going to have to buck up my ideas and be willing to look it in the eye. To face it, once and for all.
I looked at the empty town ahead and I knew I was going to have to make my way through it. But to be honest, I felt uneasy. Because there was barely anyone around. It wasn’t like the bustling busy-ness of old; it was empty, as if the whole town was on tenterhooks about what’d happened.
The circumstances of what had happened? I still didn’t know. I still didn’t totally understand.
And that put me at a disadvantage, I knew. Because by not knowing what I was walking into… I could be putting myself in danger.
But there was only one goal in mind right now. There was only one target in the distance, up ahead of me. And that target was the family home.
It might be an emotional journey. It might be a journey I was reluctant to take.
But it was a journey I had to take all the same.
So I sucked it up and began my walk down the slope and into the town.
I expected to feel better about myself and the situation when I got into town. I thought maybe the idea that Nightthistle looked a little miserable was just something like elevation bias, and that once I was down there, everything would be okay.
But that wasn’t the case.
I wished it was the case, but it really wasn’t.
I walked through the streets, past the quiet market stalls, past the boarded up windows. I saw a few people—werewolves, vampires, whatever; I couldn’t tell right now—look at me with side glances. Were they looking at me with suspicion because I was a newcomer? Or was it because they were just suspicious of everyone?
Or… even worse. Was it because I was Stella Storm?
The fairy had told me that I wasn’t allowed in because my family had been at the centre of a controversy. What if he was warning me for my own good after all?
Regardless, I kept my head down and kept on walking. And the further I walked, the closer I seemed to be getting to my family home. Which was a weird term of expression, really because I was getting closer to my family home. There was no “seem” about it.
Whatever. My mind wanders in weird places when I’m nervous.
I saw the edge of the market stall up ahead. I’d be off the main street soon, out of the main section of town and more in the open. That reassured me, somewhat. Because at least then I wasn’t under the radar. At least then, I’d have some kind of eyes on me.
I kept on going, just telling myself that everything was going to be okay, that all of this was going to be okay.
And then I heard a sound.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t a bang. It wasn’t anything like that.
Just a subtle rustling right over my shoulder.
My mouth went dry. I didn’t want to turn around. I didn’t want to look. I didn’t want to see the truth in all its unadulterated glory.
But I had to look.
I turned around and saw nobody was there.
I swallowed a lump in my throat. I was being irrational. And even if there was someone there, why was I so worried about them?
I just had to maintain my focus. I just had to get to the family home and keep on going. The sooner I got there, the sooner I could learn the circumstances of my cousin’s murder, and the sooner I could get to work on cracking the case.
I turned around and went to walk up the hill that led to the family home when I saw the group of three in front of me.
And the next thing I knew, one of them wrapped a sack over my head and I saw nothing but darkness.
Chapter 11
When I woke, I didn’t even realise I’d been out.
I just knew that I was in trouble.
Big trouble.
All around me, darkness. I couldn’t tell whether I still had the sack over my head or whether the room I was in was just dark. Thinking about it, I couldn’t tell what’d happened when I’d been ambushed in the street. Just that I thought I heard something, looked over my shoulder and the next thing I knew… well, when I looked back ahead, there were three people in front of me.
I didn’t get to see their faces. Didn’t get to make them out very clearly. I didn’t even get to react with magic.
I just got to wake up here in darkness wondering what the hell had happened—and what the hell was going to happen next.
I blinked a few times, tried to get a sense of whether I still had a bloody sack on my head or whether it was dark. I couldn’t feel any material up against me, so I could only assume there was darkness all around. I tried to move my hands, but they were bound behind me with some kind of cuffs. I really was stuffed.
I held my breath, took a few deep breaths. I could taste blood in my mouth, which I wasn’t sure where it came from. There was a sore on the inside of my cheek, though, so I could only assume I’d bit my lip in the struggle or something.
When I should be trying to get away, I found my mind wandering back home to Goosridge. My Dad. My friends. My pets. All of them back home, worrying about me. I wished I was back there. I wished I could turn back time and not come here. I’d underestimated just how serious this situation was.
And now I was trapped.
Alone.
And…
No. I couldn’t let my current situation defeat me. If I was one thing, it was strong. And I was going to use that strength if it was the last damned thing I did.
I just hoped it wasn’t the last damned thing I did.
I held my breath. Tensed my fists. I thought of all the possibilities—breaking out of here. Snapping through my cuffs. Lighting the room up.
But my mind felt like it was swirling. I felt… unfocused. Lik
e every bit of magic and every spell I tried to look closely at was just out of reach, somehow.
I focused harder, more intensely. I gritted my teeth. I had the power to change my situation. So why was nothing happening?
I muttered magical words under my breath. I said mantras that I knew worked.
But the more I said them, the less attached I became with my thoughts.
The more I said them, the more I drifted further and further away.
Panic set in. Because this wasn’t how things were supposed to be. If I could rely on one thing lately, it was my abilities. And they weren’t working right now, right when I needed them most. I’d trained myself up in the last couple of months. Taught myself spells that didn’t require truth serums, things like that. But still no luck.
And what was I without my abilities, really?
I was just an ordinary person.
An ordinary, vulnerable person who was trapped.
“No,” I said.
Because this time, I said it louder. This time, I said it more self-assuredly. Because it wasn’t true. It wasn’t the truth I wanted to believe.
The Andy Carter case. My powers had failed me so many times during that case. But I’d learned something key, back then. Something important.
I had solved that case without needing my abilities.
Sure, they’d come in handy. I wouldn’t have fancied my chances without them.
But they’d only aided my investigation.
So I wasn’t just going to let my dodgy powers consign me to whatever fate lay ahead. Not now. Not ever.
So I started to do something else.
I lifted my hands up, from the back. I got them really high up, so high that my shoulders were hurting. I’d done a little gymnastics as a kid. I was confident in my ability to twist them around and over my head back then.
But then I wasn’t bloody Tom Cruise anymore. I wasn’t as flexible as I once was. Blame it on the pastries.
But I could try.
I had to try.
I winced as I got my arms further. And when they were as high as I could get them, I knew it was now or never.
I bit down on my lip. Took a few calming breaths.
Went to push them over the top of the pole I was bound to.
Then I bottled it.
“Nope,” I said. “No, no, no. No way. Not a chance. Not. A. Chance.”
I stood there, hope drifting away. Because I was foolish to believe I could just gymnast my way out of this—whatever this was. I was trapped here. I didn’t know who by. I didn’t know why. I could guess it was something to do with the murders, but really and truly, I didn’t totally understand.
I felt that longing to be back home settling in once again. And I knew I was foolish to entertain it. Getting caught up in thought was never a good thing, never a good idea. Especially ruminating on things I couldn’t control.
But what was I supposed to do, really?
What was I actually supposed to do?
I felt myself getting emotional at the thoughts of the lovely Hex Hot Choc we’d just perfected at Witchy Delights recently. Just the thought of it made me want to curl up into a ball of luxury delight.
But right now, my mouth was dry and I’d kill for some water.
I’d kill for anything.
But I was stuck.
And then another thought dawned on me. What if I was stuck here? What if nobody was coming for me? What if I was destined to spend the rest of my life in this awful excuse of an existence?
Bloody hell. I longed for the days of prancing around Goosridge chasing after ghosts.
I took a deep breath. Sighed.
And that’s when a light flicked on.
My eyes burned. My heart raced, right away.
Because when that light flicked on, I saw a figure.
He was tall. Dark-haired. Slim.
And he was standing over me.
And behind him… two more figures.
“Hello, Stella,” the man said, his voice soft. “I’m Harold. And this is my family. I believe your family has a lot to answer for.”
Chapter 12
Okay. I don’t like to be judgemental. I don’t like to stereotype. I don’t believe it’s a positive way for the world to move forward, and I especially don’t think it’s very progressive.
But if I were a judgemental person, I’d say these three people standing over me right now looked pretty damn mean.
And if I were a stereotyper, I’d say they were a pretty damn mean looking bunch of vampires.
So yeah. Now all that judgemental stereotyping is out of the way, we can get on with how much I was pissing my pants at that moment, right?
I looked into the mean, dark eyes of Harold as he towered over me. He was dressed all in black—rather cliched, I noted. The two men either side of him looked similar to him—not stereotyping again, just an observation—although they were shorter and far less menacing.
It was then that I noted the room I was in more closely, too. It was dreary for one. Looked like some kind of whitewashed outdoor garage or something like that.
I thought about opening my mouth and screaming. My abilities were moot. There must be something they’d done to me to render my abilities pointless, I dunno.
But then I figured shouting out loud wasn’t going to get me anywhere really. Not with a mean crew like this.
And then I remembered just how empty the streets of Nightthistle had been anyway, and I wondered whether there’d be much use.
No. I had to work with what I had. And what I had was my immense wit and charm, as well as my fabulous people skills.
So I took a deep breath and looked up at Harold with puppy-dog eyes.
“Please. I don’t—”
“Don’t puppy-eye me,” Harold said. “You might think you have good people skills, Stella Storm. But do you have good vampire skills? I guess not.”
Shit.
“Look,” I said, snapping out of my attempts to make these vampires sympathise with me. “I heard news about—about what happened to my cousin, and I came here for my family.”
“You came here to cause trouble,” Harold said, stepping closer to me, his figure all the more imposing. “Isn’t that right?”
“I didn’t come to cause any trouble,” I said.
But Harold didn’t seem like he was straying off his current path. “You came here to… to destabilise things even further, isn’t that right?”
“Frankly, I don’t know what you’re talking about. But the fact you’ve bundled me up here is starting to make me think it was you who killed my cousin after all.”
Something happened, then. A shift, right across Harold’s face—and his family’s faces. “How… how dare you accuse us of such treachery.”
“Well, you sort of bundled me from the streets and pinned me up in a dark room. Now you’re doing the whole staring down at me with menace, thing. Which would be a lot more effective if you were taller, to be honest. I mean, I get you’re using shadow and light to look more intimidating, and it’s definitely working but… I’ll stop talking now.”
Harold looked bewildered. So too did his family.
“You made an accusation. A very serious accusation against my kind.”
“Then prove me wrong.”
“We would never break the truce, Harold said. We respect the peace agreement. We would never put that in jeopardy. We are born respecting it. We are raised respecting it. For you to even suggest we’d do such a thing is scandalous.”
“Unlike your family,” one of the others muttered.
I narrowed my eyes as they all looked down at me, disgust on their faces.
“My family broke the peace treaty? What’re you talking about?”
The family member who hadn’t spoken yet stepped forward and pulled down his black trousers.
Harold’s eyes widened. “Theo, you really don’t have to—”
“She’ll see it. She’ll see exactly what her family did to me
.”
“But—”
By then, Theo already had his trousers down. He was leaning over, pointing at his markedly pale backside.
On it, I could see a rather large, rather nasty bruise, which contrasted pretty well with his bright green underpants.
“Your family did this,” he said, jabbing at the bruise as Harold and his other brother looked on. I’d always wondered if vampires could blush. I was finding out the answer to that right now.
“Did what?” I asked.
“They kicked my ass. All because of what happened to Curtis. All because they blame us. We’re supposed to respect each other. We’re all supposed to respect the treaty. And we’d have worked with your family. We’d have helped them.”
“But they judged us,” Harold cut in. “They retaliated. They blame us. They blame us to the point the police are even investigating us on suspicion of Curtis’ murder. So now… well, now it’s time we set things straight.”
Harold stepped forward then, and he grabbed me by the back of my head. He crouched down opposite me as his family looked on. And in the glint of the light, I saw his teeth, sparkling white.
And sharp.
Very sharp.
“Can’t—can’t we talk this through?” I asked.
“The time for talking is over. The time for setting things straight is now.”
And then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a rather vicious, angry looking little bat.
“Is—is there any chance we could postpone the time for setting things straight a little while longer? And could we preferably set things straight without the presence of angry winged animals?”
Harold smiled. Looked right at me with those dead eyes. “You’re a smart woman, Stella Storm. Smarter than the rest of your family. But they are your family. And we have new rules now the treaty has been broken. New rules of our own.”
“Like Dua Lipa,” Theo said, pointing at his backside still.
Harold turned around. His other brother turned around. Even I glared at Theo at this moment.
“The song,” Theo said, looking a little sheepish. “New Rules, right?”
“Theo?” Harold said.
