by TJ Green
As if he’d sensed her annoyance, he stepped back and looked around once more. “This is an occult shop.”
“Sort of,” she admitted. “We’re a book shop that sells some occult things, but we have a wide range of all kinds of books.”
He swept his hand up and around. “But the incense, tarot cards, divinatory equipment, and witchcraft items all suggest the occult. Not common objects for a book shop.”
“I’m not a common book shop owner.”
“No, you’re not.” He frowned. “Remind me why Ben wanted you to see my house again? And that big blond man you arrived with? Reuben, was it?”
Shit. What had Ben said she was? A consultant, that was it.
“I have an interest in the occult, as you’ve noticed.” She gestured around vaguely. “Ben knows this. He, Cassie, and Dylan often visit, and Ben wanted my opinion on the witch-bottle found under the hearth. I suggested a site visit might be useful.” She smiled, trying to be as charming as possible. “Thank you for agreeing.”
“And what did you think of my house?”
“It’s fascinating. I think its name references its history. What do you think?”
His lips were tight with annoyance. “It’s the most likely explanation, I agree. But the spirits of the house are keeping their secrets very close.”
What a strange admission. “Do you speak to spirits? Are you a medium?”
He blinked as if he’d said too much. “No, not really. I meant as in, I can’t find out much about Madame Charron and whether she was real or a fake.”
“But you employed Ben. What are you hoping he will find?”
“Something that proves Madame Charron was authentic.” He looked excited, fervent almost. “I’m so tired of fakes, and now with Charlotte experiencing strange dreams, we hoped it might indicate something was awakening… That she might be there in the house, waiting to speak to us. But so far, things are proving elusive.”
Avery persisted. “And is that good or bad? Most people don’t want ghosts in their house.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I like old houses because of their ghosts, so no, it doesn’t bother me. Anyway, I must go. My wife will be waiting for me. Please speak to your manager and let me know how much you want for those books. It’s very important. I suspect there may be personal items in those books that could be relevant to my research.” He held out a business card. “Call me as soon as you can.”
Avery went to take the card from his hand, but his hand closed over hers with a vice-like grip. “Don’t let me down, Avery.”
She resisted the urge to blast him through the window, and instead settled for a mild magical current that made him release her hand immediately. His eyes opened wide with shock.
“Must be static electricity,” Avery explained blandly. “I’ll be in touch.”
He narrowed his eyes at her and then turned and left the shop, leaving the bells jingling in his wake. Wanker.
Avery hurried to the door and locked it. She checked that the bundle of herbs and wood above it was intact, and uttered another protection spell on top, and then she lit a sage bundle and walked around her shop, cleansing it of Rupert’s very negative energies. Meeting him again confirmed her earlier suspicions. He was odd—dangerous, even. She could sense it. Was he a necromancer? Necromancers raised spirits with the intention of controlling them. Surely he would have been able to raise the spirits in the house easily if that were so. Maybe there was another level of protection on the house that was stopping that. And how did this connect to vampires? Were they wrong? Were the house and the arrival of the vampires completely unconnected? She needed to speak to Sally.
Sally answered the phone after half a dozen rings. She could barely hear her above the shrieks in the background. Sally’s kids were either in deep distress or having the best fun ever, and she couldn’t quite work out which. “Is everything all right, Sally?”
“Oh, God. It’s mayhem here. The kids are so excited. I wish I’d stayed at work. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine. Look, I have a quick question. You bought some books from a house sale a few weeks back, a house in West Haven. It turns out they’re from the House of Spirits, the one Ben is investigating. Do you remember what books we bought?”
The sound dulled as Sally obviously moved rooms. “I do vaguely remember, but check the online inventory for August, maybe September. I’d have noted it there. I don’t think there was anything that I thought you’d be particularly interested in. You know I flag them for you if I do.”
“Thanks, Sally, you’re a star. Remind me what file the inventory’s in again?”
As Sally talked her through the electronic filing system, Avery headed to the back room and sat at the computer. When she found it she rang off, leaving Sally to her chaotic household, and then started to scroll through the list. Sally had grouped the books together under general fiction, and then detective novels, thrillers, and romance. A lot of romance. Avery presumed that Felicity had developed prolific reading habits after living alone for years. Sally didn’t name the titles for these, just added the numbers. After these were the arcane and occult books, of which there were about a dozen in total. Sally did add the titles and authors for these, because they were of interest to Avery. She recognised a couple, especially Mysteries of the Occult, the book with the witch-mark on it; the book that was now in her flat. She printed the list off and headed back to the shelves in the shop. It was fully dark outside now, and the only light in the shop came from the coloured Christmas lights that were strung up around the shelves. Of the books they had purchased, only four were left, five including the one upstairs. The others must have been sold, Avery thought.
There were three books on witchcraft, one on runes, and another on divination. The missing books were of a similar mixture. Avery decided to pull all of the ones she still had and take them up to her flat. Alex was coming around later, but not for hours. That would allow her time to research.
Once she’d fed the cats, turned the lights on, and made the place cosy, she spread the books out on her attic table and threw a couple of witch lights above her, and then started to methodically examine them.
An hour later, she’d still only found one witch-mark, the original one on the first book. The witchcraft books contained simple spells, nothing that you couldn’t find in many books on the craft, or at least variations on themes. The book on runes was more interesting. There were notes along some of the pages in scrawling script, and the pages about runic divination were heavily marked, which was curious.
She was so absorbed that when her phone rang in the silent flat, all outside noise muted by the snow, she jumped, startling the cats who slept beside her. It was Sally.
“I’ve just remembered something,” she started breathlessly. The noise behind her was still deafening. “I found a book that wasn’t a book in that collection.”
“What? I don’t know what you mean.” Avery said, puzzled.
“You know, a fake book. The spine looks like a book, the cover looks like one, but actually, it’s a box. I found it and put it aside for you.”
Avery’s heart started to race with excitement. “Where?”
“I’m not sure. I think it was under the kitchen cabinet with the biscuits. I wanted to make sure it didn’t get mixed up with the other books and I think you were busy hunting Mermaids at the time. I’m really sorry.”
“No, it’s fine,” Avery said, getting ready for witch-flight. “Was there anything in it?”
“A little pouch of something. I didn’t look. I left it for you.”
“Great, thanks, see you tomorrow.” Avery hurriedly ended the call, and within seconds she was down in the kitchen. She ferreted in the kitchen cupboard, pulling biscuits and teabags out of the way, and then she saw it. A book that was a box.
At the same time that she pulled it free, her protection spell on the building started to toll like a bell, and a deep reverberation ran through Avery’s body. Some
one had triggered her protection spell.
Within seconds, she threw the book back under the cupboard. Now she could concentrate.
She pushed out her magical awareness, trying to feel where the threat was coming from. If it was the windows, it could be a vampire, but immediately she found it. Someone was trying to get in through the back door.
Avery knew her protection spells by heart, and as the reverberation grew stronger, she added to the strength of her spell, uttering the words with power and conviction.
She hadn’t got time to be afraid. Instead, she was furious.
She turned the lights off with another whispered spell, plunging her flat and shop into darkness, and simultaneously cast a shadow spell and cloaked herself. She opened the door to the small hall that led to the rear entrance. The external door had small panes of milky white glass in the top half, but nothing was discernible through them at all as it was pitch black outside, and her security light hadn’t come on.
She stood still, listening intently. The door handle rattled slightly, and she smiled. She ran back into the kitchen and grabbed a handful of chamomile teabags. They weren’t as effective as the bundle of chamomile in her attic, but they would do. She ripped them open and threw them in the air, whispering a spell that sent the chamomile spinning in a gentle vortex towards the door. Avery whispered the final incantation meant to lull and confuse, and the chamomile vanished through the door to the other side. There was a muted cry outside and the handle stopped moving, and then she heard footsteps retreating down the alley behind her house.
She raced through the shop to the front window, hoping to see someone emerge onto the street, but it was snowing heavily again, blurring everything into swirls of white and muting all sound. With a sinking heart she realised she had no idea who her attacker was, but she strongly suspected it was Rupert. He was annoyingly persistent, and clearly naïve as to her powers, but was he a threat?
Only time would tell.
18
Avery spelled the Christmas lights back on, and walked back to the small kitchen to retrieve the box disguised as a book.
She checked to make sure everything was locked and her wards were in place and then headed upstairs. She walked instead of using witch-flight, needing the security of seeing her home intact rather than heading straight to the attic. The Christmas tree glowed with light in the corner of the living room, and her jumble of scarves, throws, cushions, and books made the place look warm and chaotic, but nothing seemed out of place. Reassured, she carried on to the attic, stoked the fire, and placed the box on the worn wooden table.
It was quite obvious that it was a box, but if she’d looked at the spine in the midst of a row of books, it wouldn’t have stood out at all. The title was the Esoteric Mysteries of Divination, and the box was made of wood covered in thick paper, but when Avery lifted the lid, she found the interior was lined with black velvet. A cloth of soft white linen was folded at the bottom, and a pouch of black silk lay in the centre. She held her hand over the box, feeling for any magic, but instead she felt a presence. It was faint, but it was there.
She picked up the pouch and pulled out an old, well-used pack of tarot cards, and then unfolded the square of white linen, thinking that it would likely be for reading the cards on. These must have belonged to Madame Charron.
Just as she was wondering why they were in a box disguised as a book, she heard the door open below as Alex arrived. He shouted hello, and within a minute arrived in the attic, covered in a fine sprinkling of snow. He stood behind her, wrapped his arms about her waist, and nuzzled into her neck. “You smell delicious.”
She leaned into him. “Thank you. You smell of snow.”
“That’s because it’s snowing, smarty pants.” He dropped his head on her shoulder. “What have you got there?”
“Tarot cards.”
He laughed. “Er, yes, I can see that. Where did you get them from?” He released her and picked up one of the cards. “These are nice. Unusual. And I feel a little bit of magic in them.”
“Me, too, although I thought it was more of a presence than magic.”
Alex placed the cards down, and slipped his jacket off. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, and he headed to the fire to warm his hands. “Where did you find them?”
“It’s a long story.” She told him about how Rupert had visited, prompting her to call Sally.
Alex’s hair was pulled back into a half-ponytail, but he released it and ran his hands through it. “So, they’re from the House of Spirits?”
“Yes. They must be Madame Charron’s. But I can’t decide why they were tucked away in this box.”
“Maybe for safety,” he suggested.
Avery looked at them, frowning. “This case just gets weirder and weirder.”
“Case? You sound like a detective,” he said, laughing. “Do you think Rupert knows these exist?”
“I doubt it, but even if he did, how would they help him? And what the hell have these got to do with vampires?”
“God damn blood sucking vampires,” he exclaimed, quoting the 1980s film, Lost Boys. “I must admit, I’ve never worried about walking through White Haven before, but I did tonight. Every sound made me think one was behind me. I hate feeling like that. Your protection charms feel stronger tonight. Is it because of the vamps?”
“No.” Avery didn’t really want to tell him about the attack, she knew he’d worry, but equally, she couldn’t lie. “I think Rupert hung around and tried to break into the shop when it was closed.”
“What?” He’d been absently gazing into the fire, but now his head whipped around to look at her. “Why didn’t you phone?”
“There was no time. Besides, I dealt with it.”
She described what had happened, and suddenly felt vulnerable all over again. She’d never felt scared in her home before, but recent events had changed that. She felt a rush of gratitude that Alex was here. He was solid, reassuring, and as a bonus, a very sexy presence. He was watching her, his hands on his head, which lifted his t-shirt, revealing a sliver of toned stomach, and her own stomach flipped in response.
“In the future, call me. I don’t care how busy the pub is, you’re more important.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He crossed the room swiftly, pulling her close. “I mean it.” He kissed her, and warmth and desire flooded through her until he grabbed her hand and pulled her to the bedroom. “The cards can wait.”
***
A long time later, and after food, Alex and Avery returned to the deck of cards.
“They’re just a regular pack,” Alex said, examining them and the white linen cloth. “Maybe they weren’t hidden, and were just put on the bookshelf for safekeeping.”
“Maybe. I think this is a dead end.” Avery picked up the book with the witch-mark. “I’ve double-checked this. There are no other marks in it, or the other books. There’s nothing special about them at all.”
“Have you checked the box under a witch light?”
Avery looked at him, eyes wide. “No.”
He threw a light up above them and turned the lamps off. Within seconds, a series of runes appeared on the inside of the box. “Abracadabra! It’s a message.”
“Bollocks! Why didn’t I think of that?”
He smirked. “Because I’m awesome.” He picked up the box, squinting at the rune script. “You got a rune book handy?”
Avery had already opened the book of runes from the House of Spirits. “Voila! And a pen and paper.”
For the next few minutes they worked through the runes, translating each one for a letter until they had deciphered everything.
The centre of the mysteries is beneath the full moon.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Alex said. “What the hell’s it mean?”
Avery grabbed the pack and shuffled through it impatiently. “Maybe it’s the Major Arcana card!” She found the card called The Moon and examined it under the witch light, but th
ere was nothing on it. “Damn it. Why would she leave some random message written in runes in a box?” She looked at the books on the table. “The marked book is called The Mysteries of the Occult.” She picked it up again, quoting the line. “‘The centre of the mysteries is beneath—’”
She broke off and flicked through the book until she reached the centre.
“And?” Alex asked, leaning over her shoulder.
“The middle of this book falls in the middle of a chapter about demonology, and using demons as spirit guides.”
“Really?” he said, tickling her ear with his breath. “Using a demon as a spirit guide sounds very risky.”
“And it would take a lot of power,” Avery said, lifting the book to eye level. “There’s only one name on this page—Verrine.” Avery twisted in Alex’s arms, turning to look at him. “Okay, this is what I think this means. Madame Charron may have been running scams for ordinary people, but I think she also had a gift. She really could summons spirits, and liked to experiment with using spirit guides. I think at one point, and maybe lots of times, who knows, she used this demon as a guide. Maybe she delved too deep and found something she didn’t want to? Maybe that’s why she had to stop her business. Perhaps she woke a vampire?”
Alex frowned as he thought. “It sounds crazy. Do vampires even have spirits to wake?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. But if you’re roaming the spirit world, talking with demons, you’re risking all sorts. Demons are there to tempt and trick.”
“You’re presuming it was an accident. She might have done it deliberately. She could be evil to the core.”
“But why retire and lock yourself away? Perhaps she had to control whatever she’d unleashed. Maybe it scared her so much that she could never be a medium again, real or fake.”
“Hopefully we’ll find something out tomorrow.”
***
