by Amy Casey
“We’re early anyway,” he said. “Be ready. Be on guard.”
“What for?”
He looked around at the surroundings, looked for any sign of movement. “For anything.”
They stood there a little while longer. The more time stretched on and the more time there was without movement, the more Harold started to feel like this was some kind of trap after all. They’d been foolish to come down here. Anybody could have sent that letter.
And the cliff edge.
Why would they want them down by the cliff edge?
Maybe it was to get rid of them.
Maybe it was to throw them away in one swift, easy swoop.
“I’m starting to think we should get out of here,” Harold started.
But he stopped.
He stopped, because when he turned around, he saw it.
Movement.
Movement heading right towards him, right towards his people.
He lifted out his bat-gun. Pretty straightforward—it fired a blast of highly aggressive bats. “Brace yourselves,” he said. “Looks like we have company.”
The vamps around him all raised their weapons. But the figures—because there was more than one, definitely more than one—kept on moving their way.
“Hey,” Harold said. “That’s close enough.”
But they didn’t stop.
And as they got closer, Harold realised something else.
“They’re Weres,” he muttered.
Urgency built inside. He started to charge his bat-gun up, ready it to fire. “Hey!” he shouted. “I told you. That’s close enough.”
“Are you talking to the Weres,” a voice said. “Or was that directed at us?”
Harold turned around.
And at that point, he saw something else.
A Syt. A Syt standing right there, hands raised, bundle of energy between its palms.
“What…”
But it wasn’t just Syts, either.
There were others. Witches. Wizards. Fairies. There were shifters. And it even looked like there was a troll half-breed here.
All of them congregated here.
All of them standing on this cliff edge.
Harold’s heart pumped. “What… what is this?”
One of the Weres shrugged. “You tell me.”
“If this is some kind of ploy to get rid of the vamps, it’s going to fail.”
“Who said we want to get rid of the vampires?” the Syt said.
“Oh shut it, baldie.”
The tension grew as the seconds passed by, as the uncertainty progressed. The more time passed, the more it felt like this was just a melting pot, bubbling away, getting ready to explode.
And one of them had to take action before something went down here.
So Harold stepped forward, bat-gun raised.
“Okay,” he said. “This is how it’s going to be. Whoever brought us here, you stand forward right this goddamned second. Because if you don’t, there’s going to be trouble. And let me make you a promise. The vamps will be the last ones standing if it comes to that.”
“Like hell they will,” one of the fairies said.
Harold frowned. “And what are you going to do about it? Throw your crotch-leaf at me?”
“I’ll—I’ll have you know, I’m a rather adept fighter.”
“Yeah, yeah. A pixie fighter.”
Madness spread across the face of the fairies. Harold knew it was sacrilege to refer to the fairies as “pixies,” but he didn’t care anymore. He wanted to get to the bottom of this. He wanted to know why he was here.
“Step out!” he said. “Show yourself. Because if you don’t… I’m not sure how much longer it’ll be before—”
“I brought you here.”
The voice came from ahead of Harold and the vamps; from behind where the rest of the species were.
And as the other species realised who it was, Harold heard gasps.
“Step aside,” he said, pushing through them, trying to get to them. “Go on. Move! Step aside. Step…”
He stopped, then.
He stopped when he saw her.
When he saw them both.
Stella Storm was standing there.
She was holding the shoulder of a paralysed-looking Sheriff Butcher.
“It’s time you learned the truth about your town,” she said. “And about what your sheriff wanted to do with it.”
Chapter 42
“I know you think I’m culpable in this. I know you don’t trust me. And I know I’m… kind of holding the sheriff hostage. But hear me out. Please.”
I stared at the angry, puzzled faces of the residents of Nightthistle in all their glory and I started to wonder whether I’d made the right call organising this meeting at all. To be honest, when I sent out the letters, I wasn’t expecting quite as big a response as this. Just figured a few people would come along, maybe a representative or two from each species, or perhaps even some species not bothering at all.
But it was clear now that more had come here than I’d imagined.
And that put the pressure on me.
It really put the bloody pressure on me.
“Why should we listen to you, witch?” Harold said.
I cleared my throat as the waves crashed against the cliffs ahead. “I want you to listen to me because there’s something you should know about the killings.”
“The killings that your family is responsible for?” one of the fairies called.
A few voices lifted in support. And at that moment, I realised that I might be uniting the town after all. Problem was, it looked like I was on the verge of uniting them against me than anything else.
“My family hasn’t killed anyone,” I said.
Laughter. Anger. A combination.
Okay so that perhaps wasn’t the smoothest way to break the news.
One of the weres took a few steps forward. He looked big, imposing, and very bloody mad. “And I’m guessing that’s ’cause your species can do no wrong, huh? I guess it’s because you’re the establishment, and everyone below you are the little ones. Is that right?”
More cheers in support. And when I looked down at Sheriff Butcher, I saw a small smile stretch across his face. Like this chaos was what he wanted now he knew I’d toppled him. If he couldn’t have things his way, he’d watch Nightthistle fall.
So it was time to begin the plan before it went balls up.
I reached into my pocket and lifted out some truth serum.
I heard gasps. Groans. Whispers of confusion and of discontent.
“I want you to hear the truth,” I said. “But I want you to hear it from the man himself.”
I looked at Sheriff Butcher, said the words.
And then I threw the serum into his face.
I waited. Waited as the voices from the crowd stopped. It felt like they were giving me the benefit of the doubt to some degree. Mostly because I had to be confident if I was using truth serum. I just had to be, didn’t I?
I watched as Sheriff Butcher’s eyes brightened. Waited for the truth to kick in. And when I was sure enough time had elapsed that he was under my spell, I said the words to him.
“You’ll tell the truth. And nothing but the truth.”
“Of course.”
I frowned. Lucid. A little too confident for my liking.
“You are behind my cousin’s killing, behind Hegathi’s killing, behind Bernard’s killing and the arrests and this whole mess. Aren’t you?”
He looked at me, very calmly.
Then he looked at the crowd. “No,” he said. “Stella is.”
I turned to the crowd, then. Saw their eyes widen. Heard their gasps.
And when I looked back at Sheriff Butcher, I saw he was smiling at me; goading me, as if I was a fool for even thinking the truth serum would work on him.
“That’s enough,” Curtis said. “She’s making fools of us here. It’s time for it to end.”
“No, please—
”
“Enough. No more talking. No more nonsense. She’s—”
“Sheriff Butcher killed my cousin to provoke a war between the species. He wanted the vampires to react. He wanted the witches to react in return. He made Hegathi frame the Weres and the vamps just to stir the pot even more. And then he killed her when the truth was coming out.”
The crowd stepped towards me, their pace picking up. Time was running out.
“I saw it. Hegathi showed me. I saw it, and he admitted it to me. He wants to make Nightthistle the way it was. He wants a return to the old world. Why don’t you see what I’m telling you? Why don’t you see what he wants, and this is what he wants you to do?”
The crowd grew closer.
They were so close now that they surrounded me.
And I was scared. Of course I was scared.
But I looked up into the sky, and I saw it in my mind.
The faceless figure.
The source of strength.
I charged myself up. Charged my abilities way beyond the level that felt safe.
Then, under my breath, I whispered: “Show them.”
And with a huge burst of energy, I fired at the crowd around me.
Everything went silent. Everything went still. And as I stood there, I wondered if I’d done something terrible; if I’d killed everyone, cementing Sheriff Butcher’s twisted legacy once and for all.
But when I looked back at the crowd, I saw they were still alive.
Very much alive.
They were looking at me with tearful eyes. With confused eyes.
Curtis stepped towards me.
I lifted a hand, but I was tired. My magic was spent.
But he did something unexpected.
He took my hand.
“You… you showed us.”
I frowned. “I showed you what?”
“What happened,” he said. “We… we owe you an apology.”
And then he looked at Sheriff Butcher and his face turned.
“You go,” he said, the anger of the crowd building up. “Get out of here.”
I looked down at Sheriff Butcher. Saw the fear in his eyes. “What about him?”
The crowd drew closer. But they weren’t looking at me anymore. They were looking at Butcher.
“We’ll deal with him,” he said.
I wanted to stay. I wanted to protect Butcher. I didn’t want this scene to descend into chaos.
But I thought about Sheriff Butcher and whether he deserved a second chance.
“You were right about one thing,” I said to him, as the mob approached. “I’m not from around here. So it isn’t up to me to decide what justice you deserve.”
I turned around. Walked away.
I didn’t stick around to hear what happened to Sheriff Butcher.
I was just glad this whole mess was over.
Chapter 43
I sat around the dinner table and prepared to break the news.
It was early evening. The sun was shining over Nightthistle again after so many days of darkness. The house had a warmth to it now, replacing that coldness that had run so deeply through it throughout the case. It felt like recovery was beginning. Not just for my family, but for the whole of Nightthistle, too.
The beginning of a new era; a new truce.
I looked around the table. Aunt Hilda. Thomas. Tara. Becky. All of them were tucking into their delicious smelling food. And for the first time, Curtis’ chair had been removed from the table. The first sign of healing. The first sign of moving forward.
Things had moved pretty quickly after the revelation that Sheriff Butcher was behind the killings and the chaos. Thomas had been released. A full apology was issued from the police department. And I was formally pardoned and excused, my imprisonment essentially delegitimised.
As for Sheriff Butcher… nobody knew what’d happened to him. Only that he hadn’t been seen in or around town ever since that fateful night four days ago. And if he was still alive out there somewhere, he wasn’t returning to Nightthistle anytime soon.
But as I ate the delicious plate of pie, there was a question on my mind. A question that needed answering.
And after all I’d been through, I figured it was time for answers.
“My mum,” I said. “It’s… It’s about time I discovered the truth about her, isn’t it?”
Thomas looked at Aunt Hilda, and she glared back at him.
And then they both looked over at me, regret on their faces.
“Stella,” Thomas said. “I’m sorry, but—”
“What he wants to say is that he lied to you,” Tara said. “There. I said it. Your mum’s not alive. At least… at least not in the form you’d like to think.”
I frowned. “The form I like to think? This is what I don’t get. What I don’t understand. Is she gone or is she alive?”
Thomas swallowed a lump in his throat. “She isn’t alive per se. But sometimes… sometimes her presence returns. It’s like she’s looking for you. Like she’s… she’s trapped, somehow. And she wants to reach out to you. She wants to say goodbye.”
I felt my throat wobbling. Felt myself welling up. “You could’ve just told me,” I said.
“We could,” Aunt Hilda said. “But we figured you’d be more likely to stick around if you just believed.”
I didn’t know how to feel about this revelation. Partly betrayed. But also understanding. Because these people were my family, after all.
“You may have seen her form already,” Thomas said. “The dead can appear in various unexpected ways. But when she visited me… I’ll never remember the look she had. I’d say on her face but… but Stella, this is hard to say, but she didn’t have one.”
My jaw dropped. And inadvertently, my spoon dropped out of my mouth, splashing soup everywhere. “Wait. What?”
Aunt Hilda rolled her eyes. “Flipping heck, Thomas. Look what you’ve gone and done now. Traumatised the poor girl with your horror stories.”
“Without a face?” I said. “You—you said she had no face?”
Thomas shrugged. “That’s how she looked. Don’t mean to scare you. Just how it is.”
I felt a smile stretch across my face, then. Felt myself gasping.
“What?” Tara said. “What’s got you so cheery?”
I thought about the faceless figure. The way I’d seen it in times of need. That feeling I got from it; that warmth. And I understood. I finally understood. “I think I’ve already seen her,” I said.
I ate the rest of my food. I small-talked about the weather and about the upcoming fair. And also about Curtis’ final send-off—how he was being sent out to sea. I wanted to be here for all of that. I wanted to remain.
But at the same time…
“So now there’s a position as sheriff available,” Thomas said. “I figured it’d be a good chance to extend my offer to you once more.”
I smiled. “I think it’s about time somebody else gave it a crack as sheriff.”
Thomas sighed. “Anyone in mind?”
I thought of the weres. Thought of the Syts. I thought about all the vampires and all the wonderful species in Nightthistle. “Someone who knows this town. Someone who cares about everyone in it. And someone who will defend the new truce, no matter what.”
I stood up when I finished my meal. And I walked over to Thomas, hugged him.
“You’re not leaving already, are you?”
I smiled at him. “I’m afraid so, cuz.”
“Come back. Visit. There’s so much more of this world for you to explore.”
I nodded. But honestly, it was a polite nod. Because I felt I’d seen more than enough of this world.
I walked over to Becky. Held her hand, nodded at her. And for a moment, I thought she was going to speak. But she said more in her expression than words ever could.
Good luck. I’ll miss you. Stay safe.
I went over to Tara, then. Saw her cold, hard expression.
“Well,” she sai
d, not making eye contact. “I guess we’ll finally have a bit more space here again.”
Then she glanced at me. Held eye contact for just a second.
And then her resolve broke.
“Oh come here and give me a bloody hug.”
I laughed. Both of us laughed. We hugged for a few seconds before Tara pushed me back.
“Okay, okay. That’s more than enough.”
I went to Aunt Hilda, then, and I saw a genuine sadness on her face.
“You’ll be okay, won’t you?”
She looked up at me. Smiled. “I’d love you to stay, Stella. But… but I know you’ll look out for your dad. And I know you’ll look out for the people of Nightthistle, too, when the time is right for you to protect them once again.”
I nodded. Hugged her. Then I walked over to the dining room doorway, tears threatening to pour down my cheeks.
“Stay safe,” Aunt Hilda said.
I nodded. Smiled.
Then I looked at the part of the table where Curtis used to sit.
And before I could turn into a blubbering mess, I stepped out of the kitchen, and I left.
It was time to say goodbye to Nightthistle.
It was time to say goodbye to this world.
It was time to go home.
Chapter 44
Sheriff Butcher opened his eyes and had no recollection of where he was—or what the odd sensation crippling his forehead came from.
It was bright above him. Not that illusory brightness that he sometimes experienced back in Nightthistle; another kind of brightness. It felt like it was lighter than anything he’d seen before.
As he blinked his dry eyes, he realised it was just because he’d been out for a while. But not just that—he was wet. His eyes had been covered in salt. He could taste salt on his lips, too. But why? Why did he taste salt?
He squinted, blinked a few more times. And it didn’t take the sheriff long to realise exactly why he could taste salt.
The salt came from the water that he must’ve been in. Which meant he must have been in the sea.
