by TJ Green
The next morning, the journey to West Haven was slow. The roads were covered in snow, and although the main streets had been cleared and gritted, the smaller side roads were less accessible. Alex and Avery had opted to travel together in Alex’s Alfa Romeo Spider, because Briar informed her that Hunter had arrived that morning, and Reuben and El were picking them up.
“I knew he’d come,” Avery said, excited. “Apparently, he arrived at about ten last night, after an epic trip on icy roads. That’s dedication.”
Alex grinned at her before turning his attention back to the road. “You’re such a matchmaker.”
“I want Briar to be happy, and I think Hunter will do that. Newton will certainly not. And Caspian just texted. He’ll meet us at the House of Spirits, too.”
“Full house, then. Let’s hope Rupert really has gone away for the day, or this will be one big, fat waste of a trip.”
Alex and Avery arrived at the same time as Eve, and she greeted them with a grimace. Her long, dark dreads were wrapped up under a thick wool scarf, and her eclectic clothes were bright against the snow. “I wish I was seeing you guys under better circumstances.”
“Me, too,” Avery said, hugging her. “No Nate?”
“Not today, but he’ll help when needed.”
Ben ushered them inside, and the smell of coffee hit them like a wall. “Hey, guys. We’re in the séance room,” he said, after greeting them. “Come on up. We’ve got plenty of coffee.”
“They’ve definitely left, then?” Alex asked, shaking snow from his boots.
“Bright and early!”
Avery looked around, admiring the high ceilings edged with elaborate cornices, and the decorative architraves around the doors and windows. She watched Alex as he closed his eyes and concentrated. She knew he was feeling for any signs of spirits, or a presence of any sort, but he took only a moment before following Ben up the stairs.
With everyone seated around the table, it looked as if they were about to have a real séance. Alex and Avery were the last to arrive, and they acknowledged the others with a brief nod. Avery could feel Hunter’s Alpha male presence resonating across the room. He wore his black leather jacket and dark jeans, and radiated testosterone.
Hunter sat next to Briar, and he could barely keep his eyes off her, although he did meet Avery’s gaze and grinned, a flash of victory lurking behind it. Briar looked flushed and slightly furtive. Avery glanced at El, who raised her eyebrow speculatively, and Avery tried hard to subdue a smile. Looking around the room, Avery saw that only Jasper, Eve, and Caspian were there from the other covens.
Genevieve, also present, caught her questioning glance. “I told Rasmus, Oswald, and Claudia that they didn’t need to come today. I’ll update them later.” She turned to Jasper. “Do you want to start?”
Jasper cleared his voice with a cough. “It was difficult to find out some of the more colourful history of the House of Spirits until I resorted to magic.”
“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing,” Caspian noted curiously.
“No, not at all.” Jasper shook his head, and pulled his notebook onto his lap. “It just meant I had to use subterfuge and engage in a rather risky break-in to the council buildings.”
“Good work,” Reuben said. He leaned back in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “Didn’t think you were the breaking and entering type, Jasper.”
Jasper shuffled uncomfortably. “I’m not, but it was important. I needed to find out who had owned that house before, and they’re not public records.” He gestured to Dylan. “We’ve both been busy. Tell them what you’ve found, first.”
Dylan flipped open a small notebook, too. “The house was built in 1810 and was originally a large private house with extensive gardens that took up most of the existing street. The family must have been pretty wealthy, but a chunk of the grounds were sold off in 1854, and that’s when some houses were built along the street. Fifteen years later more land was sold, and more houses were built. By the time the First World War rolled around, the house belonged to another family, and the road appeared much as it looks today.” He paused and looked up. “Before the land was divided up in 1854, there were a couple of deaths in the area. Two female bodies were found close to the grounds. There were also a number of disappearances, men and women, whose bodies were never found.”
Caspian edged forward on his seat. “When they built on the grounds, did they ever find any remains?”
“No. But,” Dylan pointed out, “it’s remote, and the land is surrounded by trees and fields. There was a lot of speculation in the press, but they never found out who did it.”
“What years were the deaths and the disappearances?” El asked.
Dylan consulted his notebook again. “On and off over forty years, between 1820 and 1860, approximately.”
A collective murmur ran around the room. Avery was astonished. “That long!”
“I know. And this isn't something I discovered,” Dylan said. “I found this out from a book on unexplained Cornish deaths. It’s pretty old, written in the 1960s, and it saved me a lot of work. The author, some guy called Ralph Nugent, speculated it was a local serial killer, and that the disappearances and murders stopped when the killer died. Of course the police never connected them, and perhaps they weren’t connected, but it’s suspicious, especially as they’re in the same area.” He shrugged. “We’ll never know. The murders stopped, apart from the usual ones whose perpetrators were found and arrested. Then time passed and all was well, until—” He paused again, looking at them ominously. “In 1938, a spate of unexplained disappearances started again, lasting just over a year. And of course World War II started in 1939, bringing chaos and disruption.”
“Evelyn bought the house in the 1920s and retired from the world in 1938,” Alex said. “Everything adds up. So, who owned it originally?”
“And that’s where I come in,” Jasper said, placing his coffee cup down. “The first owner, the one who built it, was from Eastern Europe—Romania, in fact.”
“As in Transylvanian Europe? Dracula-land!” Reuben declared, incredulous.
Jasper didn’t even laugh. “I can’t give you specifics, because the owner didn’t provide them, but Transylvania is in Romania.”
Once again the room fell silent as everyone glanced nervously at each other and Jasper continued. “His name was Grigore Cel Tradat. Other than the fact that he arrived with his wife and four children, and owned a successful business, I know very little about him. He rented for a while, and then built the house. He traded silks and other materials and did very well, but when he got older he made some bad investments and had to sell some land. According to my notes he’d have been 84 at that point. His wife was much younger. She was not the children’s mother, or certainly not of the oldest ones. She would have been too young.”
Alex leaned forward on his chair, listening intently. “How old was the oldest child?”
“He was a young boy of sixteen when they arrived. Grigore’s wife, Sofia, was only ten years older.”
“And the other children?”
“A girl of fourteen, and then two younger girls, aged five and two.”
“So the two youngest must have been Sofia’s children. It was a second marriage,” Genevieve said.
“Well, that’s all very interesting,” Caspian said dryly, watching Jasper, “But was there anything suspicious about them? Anything other than they built the house that links the family to this current nightmare of vampires and death?”
“Other than the deaths around where they lived? No. But,” Jasper’s eyes held a gleam of excitement. “The oldest boy was called Lupescu, and he was never seen anywhere. He didn’t join the family business, not that I could find, anyway, and I checked the census several times. I found the other children, but not him. He never married. He never had children. It’s as if he never even existed.”
Ben had been watching and listening, frowning between Jasper and Dylan until he
finally spoke. “You think it’s him, don’t you? Our mysterious killer. The vampire.”
Jasper spread his hands wide. “It would make sense. Although in Romania, the more common name for vampire is Strigoi. Their mythology describes them as troubled spirits that cause havoc when they rise from the grave. They can become invisible, and transform into an animal. They are what Bram Stoker took his inspiration from. The word is fascinating,” he went on, revealing his love of research. “It has also been associated with witches, through various etymological means, and is linked to the word striga, meaning scream.”
“What about Vlad the Impaler?” Reuben asked. “I thought he was part of the legend too?”
“Ah yes, Vlad Dracule,” Jasper replied, nodding. “A man known for his cruelty to his enemies. His reputation was conflated with the vampire myths. Dracul means the devil, or dragon in old Romanian.”
Eve looked at them as if they’d gone mad. “As fascinating as that is, Jasper, and great job on finding all this out, nothing about this makes sense. You’re suggesting that Grigore brought his vampire son to Cornwall. Why? To hide?”
“Perhaps. Why not? He was a wealthy businessman with a reputation to protect, and his son has become a Strigoi. He needs to get the family out of Romania, and go where no one knows them.”
Eve just looked at him. “This is pure speculation!”
“Eve, we’re just reporting what we found in the records,” Dylan explained. “It’s dry—words and records only. Yes, we’re speculating, but the missing son is weird! Oldest sons don’t just disappear. And there’s no record of his death. Grigore died in 1859, and his wife inherited the house. And if you remember the date, that’s when the disappearances stopped.”
Eve still looked confused. “So you think Grigore had something to do with the deaths, too?”
Dylan leaned forward, his eyes bright, and he raised his index finger to emphasise his point. “No, I think his death freed Sofia to do what Grigore couldn’t or wouldn’t let her do. She was able to stop Lupescu.”
As the events started to slide into place, Avery smiled. “Of course. Grigore wanted to protect his son, despite the fact he was a vampire. Or else why bring him here, where no one knew him?”
“And he built this house to protect him,” Caspian said darkly.
“But how did Sofia stop him?” Avery asked.
Jasper shrugged. “That is still to be determined.”
“Don’t forget the witch-bottle,” Caspian said. “You said it was old. That would fit the time period.”
Avery nodded slowly as she added things together. “She hired a witch to help, and the witch-bottle was part of that. But who?”
Caspian looked across to Alex. “Your family’s magic is the strongest as regards controlling spirits and demons, and they weren’t linked to the Cornwall Coven. It’s most likely to have been one of them, and that’s why we have no knowledge of it. And they would have been close by.”
Alex leaned back in his chair, his eyes staring blankly into the middle distance until eventually he looked at Caspian. “You’re right. Maybe my family did help. I’ll see if there are any clues in my grimoire.”
“But there’s more,” Dylan added. “The children all married and moved out, and then had their own children. But they stayed close.” He looked at Jasper. “Do you want to tell them?”
Jasper grinned. “Evelyn…aka Madame Charron, was Grigore’s great, great, something granddaughter. When she bought this house, she was going home.”
They stared at each other, mute with shock, the silence so great that Avery wondered if she’d gone deaf until Alex groaned. “Now it makes sense! Evelyn was trying to contact the spirits of her ancestors. She was in the house where they had lived for years!”
El nodded in agreement, excited. “Her husband was ill, probably unrecognisable after the war, and she wanted to be somewhere safe.”
Cassie frowned as she glanced at the notes Dylan had made. “Do you think she knew about the mysterious Lupescu?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Reuben said, reaching for a pastry from the table next to him. As usual, nothing dented his appetite. “It’s hard to know at the moment. You would have hoped she wouldn’t have gone poking about with that family history, though.”
“We found something else last night,” Avery said, placing the box-book on the table, and the book called Mysteries of the Occult. “I found these. They’re from this house.” She outlined everything that had happened, including the attempted break-in. “There’s a message in this, written in runes, which says, ‘the centre of the mysteries is beneath the full moon.’ We think it points to the centre of this book—there’s a witch-mark on the cover. The chapter is about using death deities and demons as spirit guides. The page focuses on demons of the First Hierarchy.”
“The first what?” Ben asked, perplexed.
“According to demonologists of the 16th and 17th century,” Avery explained, “there was a hierarchy of demons, much as there was a hierarchy of angels. There’s a first, second, and third hierarchy, as well as many lesser demons. The hierarchy denotes importance and power, and they have traits.”
“Christian theology,” Caspian said disdainfully.
“There are many belief systems in this world,” Jasper admonished him. “Any demon in particular, Avery?”
“Verrine, who tempts men with impatience—apparently.”
Reuben snorted. “What kind of demons did we face in the summer?”
Avery stared at him, incredulous. “I have no idea! If you remember, we really didn’t have time to ask.”
“I think demons are demons are demons,” Alex said contemptuously. “I don’t hold with this hierarchy crap. As Caspian said, it’s Christian theology, and was designed to aid with hunting witches—that was the original reason to name them. In my opinion, Evelyn was looking for a spirit guide, and she found one. And a malevolent one, by the sound of it.”
Briar looked thoughtful. “But the runes say beneath the full moon. Is it a reference to vampires? They don’t need a full moon, do they? Is it relevant?”
“There’s more to this, I’m sure,” Genevieve said, worried. “Madame Charron’s name is a play on Charon, the ferryman who takes souls to the underworld in Greek mythology. I’m sensing a deep obsession.”
Hunter finally spoke. “We still don’t know if she really was genuine though, do we?”
“There’s only one way to know for sure. I aim to try contacting some spirits myself, preferably Evelyn’s,” Alex said, resolutely.
19
While Alex set up his crystal ball, remaining in the séance room as he tried to detect the presence of ghosts, the others split up to look around before Ben showed them the tower room.
Avery wandered through the ground floors of the house, checking for signs of spells or magical protection, but she felt nothing untoward, which reassured her. Rupert puzzled her, but she thought it unlikely that he had any magical ability.
The first time she visited the house, she had been taking in so much that she failed to see details in the decor, but now that she had time to look, Avery observed many occult symbols. This included a large sigil embedded in the plaster above the front door, small symbols in the cornices of the ceiling, and the roses around the light fittings.
The rooms on either side of the hallway were large and imposing reception rooms that stretched to the rear of the house. The one on the left of the main entrance had symbols and sigils around the fireplace, and even the paintings were occult in nature—dark, brooding fantastical landscapes. They were symbols she was familiar with, but for anyone coming into the house for a séance, they would have been striking, and probably intimidating. They suggested a house of power and mystery. Perhaps this room was intended for those participating in séances, while the other room was for daytime visitors. The colours were lighter, and decorated with nothing occult at all. No doubt she would find more as they explored.
Avery paused in front of the firep
lace and looked up at an oil painting hanging above it. The subject was a striking woman, dressed in velvet and silk, all purples and reds. Her black hair was arranged in an elaborate chignon, and her dark eyes stared down at Avery, imperious and challenging. Was she Madame Charron?
Avery found Cassie in the kitchen, pulling the EMF metre out of their equipment bag, and asked, “How long did you say they’d be away for?”
“Overnight. Back by midday tomorrow.” She looked annoyed and slammed the metre on the table. “Rupert is getting pretty cranky. He wants to know why we can’t find the spirits that he knows are here. I’ve told him we don’t raise spirits, just read them! He’s being really unreasonable. We’re as frustrated as he is that we can’t identify whatever it is in their bedroom.”
Avery stood by the window, gazing out across the large garden, currently covered in snow, as she listened. At the end of the garden was a brick wall, and beyond was a thick strand of trees that must lead to the reserve. On the far right of the wall was a wooden gate, padlocked. She could see it glinting in the weak sunlight from here.
“I’m still wondering why he hired you in the first place,” Avery said, turning to face Cassie. “Everything this man does confuses me. Why is he so obsessed with spirits? It makes me wonder if he’s toying with necromancy. A weird hobby.”
“No weirder than ours,” Cassie said with a wry smile.
Avery heard Eve and Caspian’s voices in the hall, and went to join them, leaving Cassie to finish setting up her equipment.
“Interesting place,” Caspian noted, looking around, his gaze finally falling on Avery. “It’s quirky. I like it.”
Eve moved past him, staring at the architraves, as Avery had. “I’m surprised. You don’t strike me as the quirky type.”
A smile crept over Caspian’s face and his gaze swept down Avery from her head to her toes. “Quirky is growing on me.”
Is that directed at me? Avery thought, feeling her face flushing with annoyance. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice as Jasper and Genevieve came down the stairs to join them.
