by Amy Casey
Thomas shook his head. He’d gone completely pale. “Impossible. The Weres and the Vamps, they’ve never really got along. They stay out of each other’s way for a reason.”
“Thomas, someone murdered Curtis. This isn’t any ordinary killing. I think we’ve established that all rules are off the table at this stage.”
He covered his face with his hands. I got the sense that this was a big deal. But I also got the feeling that there was still something amiss here. Like somebody wasn’t being entirely truthful.
Or perhaps that was just my craving to investigate rearing its head all over again. Perhaps it was just that urge inside me, refusing to back down, refusing to give in.
“There’s going to be an uprising,” Thomas said. “When people learn what has happened… Stella, Nightthistle isn’t the place you’re going to want to be when the truth comes out.”
I felt a wave of unease wash over me the way Thomas said those words. “I’ll be here for whatever I have to be here for.” It was about the only thing I could think to say.
“What are we supposed to do next?” Thomas asked.
I looked at the knife. “Nobody can know we were here.”
“But Theo already knows damn well we were here, thanks to your heavy-handedness.”
“I just… We need to get the police around here. We need to get them here as quickly as possible. Is there like a 999 or something?”
Thomas narrowed his eyes. “A 999?”
“Like, emergency services or something?”
“Oh. There’s a spell equivalent.”
“Right. Course there is.”
Thomas didn’t say anything else. And I wondered whether he was waiting for my word, or something.
“Well?” I said.
“Well what?”
“Do you want to call the police or what?”
“I just… Stella, I’m worried about what’ll happen if this gets out.”
I stepped up to Thomas. “And I’m worried what’ll happen if it doesn’t.”
He sighed. Nodded.
And then he closed his eyes, said a few words, and a spark of red and blue light flashed momentarily above him. “They’re on their way.”
“Who are?”
It wasn’t me who spoke. Definitely wasn’t me.
But when I turned around, I saw exactly who it was.
Bernard was standing at the door. He didn’t have that friendliness to his demeanour anymore. He looked narrow-eyed. Mean.
Bags under his eyes.
Chains around his neck.
“What’s happening here?” he said. And I realised then that whatever invisibility we’d been relying on was well and truly gone. We were exposed now. He could look right into our eyes.
“It’s over, Bernard,” I said.
He frowned some more. His family appeared behind him. “What's over? What are you doing in my house? And what are you talking about?”
I opened my mouth, went to respond. And if everything had gone the way I’d wanted to go, things would’ve kept calm and measured before the police got here.
But this was an emotional situation.
In the procedure of investigation, it was easy to lose sight of that.
But I soon remembered it when I saw Thomas stepping past me, eyes bloodshot, hands raised.
“Thomas?” I said.
“You did it, didn’t you?” Thomas said.
Bernard looked even more puzzled. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You covered for Bertie The Were. You gave him the weapon. You helped kill my brother, didn’t you?”
“Thomas!” I shouted.
But it was already too late.
Thomas was throwing himself at Bernard.
Bernard stepped back, lifted a hand and landed a punch on Thomas’ face.
And as they all scrapped, all I could do was watch as the sirens got closer, as the police got nearer.
And when Harold, Bernard’s son, threw himself at me, I did the only thing I could.
I stepped to one side.
Watched him crash against the boarded-up window, cracking it to pieces.
I looked out of that window. Then I looked back at Thomas. He was fighting away, trying to get to Bernard. But it looked like he was getting his arse kicked.
I looked at the cabinet. Then I looked back outside. The police were here. They’d be in here soon.
And I really didn’t want to be around for the repercussions.
I really didn’t want to land myself in prison. Not while there were still questions to be answered.
I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Thomas.”
And then I turned around and I hovered my way out of the window.
I was leaving Bernard and his family’s home behind.
But as the police raced towards the door, I knew things were only just getting started.
Chapter 27
The next hour felt like an eternity.
I lay in bed back at the Mudthorpe family home. Outside, I could hear a thunderstorm raging away. Every now and then, I swore I heard voices in the distance; people walking up the driveway. But then my mind settled down again—for a brief moment, anyway.
Because I couldn’t stop thinking about what’d just gone down in Bernard’s household.
And I couldn’t stop thinking about what might’ve happened to Thomas.
I remembered the last time I’d seen him. Remembered turning around, seeing him brawling away with Bernard and the rest of the family. He looked like he was struggling.
And I knew I should’ve stayed and helped him. I knew I should’ve stood my ground and got his back. I was the one who’d gone upstairs, after all. He was under no obligation to follow me.
I’d been stupid. I’d led Thomas into that mess.
And then I’d bailed on it when he needed me most.
I got up from the bed, paced around the room. Aunt Hilda hadn’t heard me. Well, she might’ve done, but she hadn’t made a deal of my return. I imagined telling her the news; the news about what Thomas and I had gone to do, what I’d talked him into.
I thought about telling her what I’d found. The knife in Bernard’s cabinet. The blood on it. And the Were fur right beside it.
And then I thought about what might happen to Thomas. I thought about what would happen if he ended up dead. All this talk of war and I hadn’t really taken it seriously, not so far.
But I was beginning to realise just how easy it was for a war to start.
All it took were a few pieces of the puzzle conveniently in the right place and then bam.
I walked over to the window, looked outside. The clouds were so thick and low that I couldn’t even see the town of Nightthistle in the distance. I wanted to peel those clouds apart and look right through them. Because I wanted to know.
And yet, at the same time, I wanted to stay sheltered from whatever had happened; from whatever the truth was.
Because I dreaded to think what looking that truth in the eye might mean.
“You’re up late.”
I spun around. Saw Tara standing there. “Jesus. You scared me.”
“Jesus didn’t,” Tara said. “I did.”
She walked over to the window, stopped by my side. And I wondered whether she knew something. Whether she sensed something.
“You and my brother went out tonight.”
“We didn’t.”
“Don’t bullshit me. You did. I’m not stupid. I thought about following but I figured I’d leave you to sort out whatever mess you were getting yourself into.”
I looked down at the floor. There was no point lying, no point trying to get around this.
“The problem is, I heard two sets of footsteps leave. I only heard one return. So what’s going on? Where’s Thomas?”
I saw the way Tara was looking at me; saw the anger in her eyes. She’d never warmed to me, and I hadn’t particularly warmed to her, either.
I thought about how I could
answer. Did I give her the honest answer? Did I give her the truth? I’d seen she was a loose canon already. Did I really want to risk upsetting that?
“He’s…”
“He’s in trouble, isn’t he?”
“Tara—”
She squared up to me then. Grabbed me by the throat.
“If anything’s happened to my brother… it’s on you. And believe me. I don’t mess around. Not like Thomas.”
I felt like my spine was getting close to cracking.
And then it stopped.
It stopped because there was a knock on the door.
Tara looked at me. I looked back at her. The wait went on.
“I should get that,” I said.
“No,” Tara said. “No, I don’t think you should.”
I went to leave the room, to follow her.
But she waved her hands and tripped me up on some invisible magic rope right away.
She rushed down the stairs. I struggled to get back to my feet, struggled to get to the door first. Because if anything had happened to Thomas, I couldn’t let the police be the first to break the news. I had to explain. She had to know the truth.
“Tara,” I called, as I raced out the room. “Don’t do this. Please. There’s—there’s things you need to know.”
But when I reached the top of the stairs, my heart sunk.
The door was already open.
Sheriff Butcher was standing there.
He had a pained expression on his face.
An expression I knew all too well.
Tara looked back up at me. I saw she had gone pale. Not the anger I’d expected. Nothing else.
Just… pale.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve—”
“We are going to need to question you on your whereabouts, Stella,” Butcher said.
“Thomas. Is he… is he…”
“He’s okay. But the same can’t be said for Bernard.”
I frowned. Almost stumbled down the stairs. “What?”
Sheriff Butcher cleared his throat. Then he looked back up at me, fear in his eyes. “Bernard is dead, Stella. Your cousin killed him.”
Chapter 28
So my return to the station was pretty awkward, mostly because I hadn’t been expecting Bernard to be the one who had been killed.
It was early morning. I wanted to sleep more than anything, mostly because I hadn’t slept at all last night. My adventure to Bernard’s vampy home with Thomas seemed like an eternity ago.
But the hardest part about it all was that I hadn’t seen Thomas since.
Because he had been arrested on suspicion of killing Bernard.
Sheriff Butcher sat down opposite me. He slid over a coffee, which smelled of fruits I hadn’t ever encountered. He raised his eyebrows. “Getting a bit too familiar, me questioning you, isn’t it?”
I sensed joviality to his words. But underneath them, I wondered if there was a genuine frustration there. A genuine fear and worry that I was finding myself caught up in this sort of mess far too often.
“Yeah,” I said. “And to be honest, I’m not entirely sure why I’m here.”
Sheriff Butcher sighed. “Stella… I respect you. I respect your family. You are one of my kind, after all. You don’t have to lie with me. I know you went to Bernard’s place. And I know you must’ve seen what went down.”
I looked down at the table. There was no point arguing, no point denying. “He can’t have killed Bernard.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Look,” I said, leaning across the table. “I didn’t witness whatever went down because I wanted to get out of there. I’d… I’d found something. Something in the cabinet.”
“In the cabinet?”
My stomach sank. “There was a blade. And with that blade, a clump of fur.”
Sheriff Butcher just looked on at me, blankly.
“Didn’t you see it? You must’ve seen it in there when you went inside.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But there was nothing like that when I got there. Have you seen something I should know about? Something important?”
I fell back into my chair. The very reason I’d fled Bernard’s home in the first place in hope that the police would find it, and now it was gone. “I left because I wanted to leave you to it. I wanted to leave you to find it. And to stop them.”
“But when you left—assuming that is what happened—something very different occurred, didn’t it?”
I shook my head. “I’m not lying when I say I wouldn’t know about that.”
“Thomas used the breaker spell on Bernard. Do you know what the breaker spell is?”
“I can take a wild guess.”
“It’s forbidden. Very forbidden. The hardest of hard magic. It’s forbidden mostly because it doesn’t just pose a danger to the subject of the attention, but to a whole wider sphere too. It draws energy from other witches and wizards like us. And that can pose a real threat.”
I shook my head. “Thomas… Thomas cares about his family. He wouldn’t put them in danger. Not like this.”
Sheriff Butcher leaned back, didn’t say a thing. But I could see the look on his face.
“Go on,” I said.
“What?”
“There’s something, isn’t there? Something about him I don’t know.”
Sheriff Butcher sighed. “I don’t want to spread rumours. I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news. But Thomas isn’t the clean-cut cousin you want to believe he is.”
“He told me he tried to kill someone once.”
“Tried to? Well, isn’t he selective in his storytelling?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Wait. You’re saying he did kill someone?”
“It was self-defence, he says. Just like I’m sure whatever happened here was self-defence.”
“It had to be. Bernard had him pinned down. The whole family had him pinned down.”
“And I can understand it. He’s mad. We’re all mad about what happened. But this… Stella, I have to warn you about something.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what was coming next. But I figured I didn’t really have a choice. “I’m kind of used to hearing these warnings by now.”
“The vampires. They’re… they’re going to want revenge. Serious revenge. And I… I mean, I don’t know what did or didn’t happen in that house, exactly. But what I do know is that you are a part of the Mudthorpe family. And even worse: you were there.”
I gulped. “You’re saying I’m a target.”
“I’m saying I’m not sure how much I can protect you. But I’ll do what I can. And that includes offering you something.”
He reached into his pocket and slid an envelope across the table.
“What is this?”
“It’s a ticket.”
“A ticket?”
“A ticket back home.”
I looked up at him, stopped opening the envelope.
“You can walk away from this,” he said. “You’re not from this world. You shouldn’t be getting caught up in other people’s battles.”
“But they’re my family.”
“And they have lived here for years. They’ve grown up here. They know how this world works. But you are different. You are new here. And whether you want to accept it or not, that makes you weaker. So go back home. Go back to whatever life you’re living in that funny little town you told me about. Go back to your talking cat—”
“Dog.”
“Dog. Whatever. That’s your home. That’s your place. Not here, with all this nonsense.”
I sighed. Looked down at the envelope. It was tempting; it really was.
But at the same time, I knew there was something going on here. And once I’d sunk my teeth into something like this, I wasn’t one to let go.
“Thank you,” I said, sliding the envelope back across the table. “Truly. I mean that. But you’re wrong when you say my place is back in Goosridge. My place i
s here. My place is being here to help you get to the bottom of whatever’s happening. My place is by my family’s side.”
Sheriff Butcher half-smiled and nodded, defeated. “I wish you hadn’t said that. Alas, I can understand. You remind me of my daughter, you know. So focused. So determined. Never stops going, even when the odds are against her.”
“Your daughter sounds like someone I’d like.”
“She would be,” he said. “She isn’t with us anymore.”
“Oh. I’m… I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s a long story and a long time ago. But anyway. I’m sure you’ll want to get back home.”
He stood up, and I did too.
“Your cousin. You understand we can’t let him go. Don’t you?”
As much as I wanted to argue for Thomas, I saw Sheriff Butcher’s predicament. So I nodded. “You’re just doing your job.”
I walked with him towards the door of the police station.
And as I went to step outside, he stopped me.
“Stella, be careful,” he said.
“I… I’ll do my best.”
“Vampires,” he said. “They get their revenge. Always.”
I nodded when he said that. Tried to keep calm, keep composed.
But as I walked away from the station, I couldn’t deny that a strong feeling ran through me.
A feeling of dread.
A feeling that the war hadn’t even started.
But it was about to.
Chapter 29
I wanted to go out and explore Nightthistle. I wanted to see the sights, to get a feel for the bars and the pubs. I even wanted to go to the coffee shops and bakeries and scout out my colleagues, so to speak. Might even learn a recipe or two to take back home with me.
But then again… the more time passed, the more I started to come to terms with the reality that I probably wasn’t going back home again at all.
Even though Sheriff Butcher had practically offered me a ticket out of here.
Literally offered me a ticket out of here.
I sat at the kitchen table opposite Aunt Hilda. She hadn’t said much since Thomas’ arrest, and hadn’t commented on the situation. Tara and Becky had gone out to somewhere they believed “safer” than here. I didn’t know where, but I was glad they were gone. I knew what Tara’s temper was like. I knew she wasn’t exactly happy with me for going to the vampire household with Thomas at all.
